beach OBE

On August 11, 2023August 4, 2025 By ©️K.T. 2025In Alchemy, crone chronicles, grandmother, liminal, metaphysical, out-of-body experience, Poem, poetry, waterLeave a comment

i Am revisiting the significance of this poem — first published on my former Tumblr site [kimtn.tumblr.com] in August 2012 and one of the first poems i ever composed

this poem is derived from my near-drowning and out-of-body experience [OBE] when i was about three years old at a beach near Waukegan, Illinois while under the brief watch of my Finnish-American paternal grandmother, Dolores “Babe” Laine (shortened from Kumpulainen) who was often drunk

i am actually lucky that this near-drowning happened to me — and at such a tender age; my out-of-body experience imprinted on me and left me with the capacity to be open to, recognize and receive other metaphysical and liminal experiences throughout my life, and is absolutely part of the origin story for The Limineen and its previous incarnation as the “Accidental Seeker & Intentional Opiner”

beach obe

I open my eyes and ochre water’s all around

I’m underneath, but I’m not scared,

I still see golden sunlight too

I see your legs; you’ve let me go

and I think I’m down here all alone

I hear voices, but I can’t breathe

So I leave, I’m off to explore

But wait, there’s me! – that’s my face!

Can you see, that somehow now, there’s two of me?!

you finally see — the first me
you slowly raise her up

She coughs and breathes;

and the other me, She goes, She floats away

But, which one Am i?

now, i’m not sure

Am i real, or was it She?

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from the inner city to the outer rural:

On July 24, 2023October 18, 2024 By ©️K.T. 2025In 2-flat, agraria, biographical, bucolia, Crone, crone chronicles, Earth hospice, Home, inner city, limineen, outer rural, planetary hospice, Portage Park, Rainy Lake Miami Meadow, ruralia, Stabilization, transformationLeave a comment

first in a series

new geographies

All movement is thirst.
Hafiz

she moved out of the city of them, into the country of Her Self

in January 2017, i impulsively yet instinctively, instinctually, bid on a house in the country — after viewing one listing on the internet employing the most banal search terms — and never having physically toured the interior of the house; after losing the first bid, and rebidding within minutes to spare, in the second round — as my unfamiliar real estate agent was at the gate at O’Hare about to board a plane for a Caribbean vacation, i won with a numerological bid (against the agent’s advice) and closed escrow on March 30th; then in late July, i abruptly and stunningly — listed my home of 22 years in the city — for-sale-by-owner— without even a for-sale sign and telling only a handful of people — selling it twice, the second time, successfully — also using numerology, in August; then closed sale and left for the country house on September 29th —

nine months time – a human gestation.

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