“They say that every snowflake is different. If that were true, how could the world go on? How could we ever get up off our knees? How could we ever recover from the wonder of it?” Jeanette Winterson

I don't try to pretend that every emotion I feel is unique.  Or that each time I hurt, or laugh, or fly with happiness, that no one else has felt the same, or greater than me, whether now, or in the past, or in the future.  I wouldn't be so immodest to believe that my heart is any different than anyone elses.

We can't measure love, except by our own experience.  One is not greater than another, every love you have is a snowflake, as near to unique as ever could be comprehended, and in fact - can never be explained.  Why two people should feel a connection is beyond me.  It's (as I have said before) a question of chemistry. 

But the difference of each of them is very important.  You can appreciate the differences as well as the similarities.  One person is uniquely different to another, and so they don't need your love in the same way.  They may not even need your love.  They may want it, in spite of being strong and independent.  You may want to give it, without any reaction from them - although this plant will eventually wither and die, unless something keeps it fed and watered.  And right now my plants have overdosed on Baby Bio.

I have had a splendid few weeks.  No time to write, and it has bottled up a little, into a story that yearns to be told.  It is a story of friends and fun and love and happiness.  A few weeks with rare interjections from the bad side of the world - and I have relished each moment as it comes.  A story of new beginnings, and rekindlings of old.  A story of ongoing flares, bubbling into the night sky.  A tale of gentle thoughts and simple pleasures.

And yet I cannot tell it.  The story burns inside, but the logic of all around me prevents it's freedom.  And that's as it should be.  If no snowflake is unique, then I am not unique in keeping my stories untold.  One day maybe, I will make a study of my snowflakes; if I thought anyone would be interested....

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.” Anon

But the story of the last few weeks is one of hard work for more than one.  I suspect that others have not shared my pleasure.  Has it changed me?  Has it changed them?  The Doubt always creeps in, and makes me ashamed of the happiness I have felt.  Oh, why do I deserve that happiness?  Have I been overly indulgent?

Of course I have.

Can I make amends?  Maybe.

That seems to be my word of the day... maybe.
Each snowflake may bump into another and flutter gently down with them for a short time, even resting with them on a branch before moving on.  They can entwine their crystal fronds and become bigger and better than ever before.  And as each one progresses, they influence the path of others, either joining with them for a short while, or forever.  Learning from that experience.  Sometimes moving on harmlessly, sometimes having to disentangle, and sometimes forced to break the bindings to separate.  But never quite losing the memory, and always growing from the other's uniqueness.

My snowflake is fluttering lightly, and is buoyant, supported by some wonderous alternate branches.  I know that it will not last for ever; but appreciate my chances to touch the uniqueness of my fellow ice scrolls, and perhaps become a better person; before I sink under the wonder of my good fortune to know them.

Vermont farmer Wilson A. Bentley (1865 - 1931) was the first person to capture a single snowflake on camera.  He was later known as Snowflake Bentley for his pioneering 19th-century photography of more than 5,000 jewel-like snowflakes — no two alike.



Now

For every simple pleasure there is the next day.
For every perfect moment there are a million dull ones.
To see your reality for a moment touch fantasy is to taste heaven
and not fear the fires of hell.

When one day starts in peace
You know there will be more in complexity.
The joy of now a temporary right
Becomes a standardised loan in need of repayment.

The sigh of open heart untamed
The waking dream of sense unleashed,
The here, the now, the day, the night,
The wishes lined in sable cushions lay.

And so to sit in wait for what may come,
So long in need of sleep and silk.
Return at once to calm untamed,
The sunrise appears in perfect glow.

Excitement

An eagerly anticipated time awaits.  All the trappings of the holiday season of course, and other more intimate moments.  Not that anything untoward will be happening, but I can't hide my excitement.  Well, not from myself and my blog, anyway.

A trip to see friends is the cause.  Planned for months, and I've been counting the days.  Simple pleasures: the chance to dress up and have fun.  Perhaps dance a little.  Enjoy good company.  Relax.  My time.  Me time.  Where I'm not in charge, trying to impress or dealing with heavy amounts of work.

I like being in charge mostly.  I get things done the way I want them.  Simple enough - but it takes work.  And I relish the chance to not be that person.  But every now and then, I like to submerge myself in someone elses will.  Not without trust of course, but with gentle acceptance that this is a part of me too.

I know who I am - it's always been said that I can be bossy.  Yes - I'd agree with that.  Overbearing, directive, selfish - lots of words describe me, with both good and 'bad' connetations.  And that's me.  I've tried to be someone else in the past.  I can't do it.  Those time burrow into my psyche and make me hurt inside.  I've vowed 'no more!'

So I will be myself - whoever that amorphous creature is.  Bad and Good alike.  A complex mix of controversy and compliance, rebellion and rules.  And I love her.

I love the balance.  I don't always love the outcomes, but I'd become really selfish if I didn't lose the battle once in a while. 

So my excitement is a chance to move from rules to rebellion, in a humane and safe manner.  No creatures will be hurt in the making of this trip.  Only exploration and fun to be had.  And to be the relaxed creature with no agenda, etherially letting things happen in an evolutionary manner.  Simplicity itself perhaps?  We will see. 

And breathe...

Do I Care What People Think?

Yes.

And No.

Tricky, isn't it.  There is not a clear answer or definition to this most elusive of questions.  It ends up more a list of reasons rather than a solution.  All apply, and in different circumstances, different ones will take precedent.  So, my lists...

Yes.
I want approval, from those I think are important.  Those whom I love.  Those whom I respect, both professionally and privately.  It makes me happy.  It gives me a warm glow of worthiness, and helps each day to take a step forward.  I do not thrive on disapproval - if I feel that is my status, I feel low. 

I want people to like me, but don't always know how to get it to happen.  That confuses me.  I can play 'the game' as well as most, and sometimes use the knowledge I've amassed to be able to work a situation.  This is a learnt skill, not an inherent one.  I have to work at it, as I do with most things.  And of course, sometimes I can't be bothered - especially when the game is not worth playing.

But back to the warm glow... why does that happen.  A biological change happens when you smile - the simple thrust of movement seems to change the world inside your head - the formation of the muscles on your face can take a key step through banality, and force you to be a little lighter, calmer, more joyous.  So if the biology is there, it is partly that: when a compliment arrives and brings a smile to your face, the physicality changes the mood.

Chemistry too.  Drink (or I guess drugs - although I have no experience) loosens one up, and approval or connection can flow through.  I've noticed that one drink is wonderful, and makes me much more conversant.  This must be the Chemistry at work - chemical structures changing the way you feel.  Later, things don't always go on in this way.  Alcohol makes things more extreme - big highs with lots of fun, but big lows.  It acts as a magnifying glass to your natural state, and sometimes unusual things can creep in that you were not aware of.  But it's not all about drink - I;m no chemist, but when I feel someone thinks positively about me, I feel the rush of heat.  Surely that must be chemical?  And different people have different effects too.  Sometimes, the rush of heat is in different places - well, we all know what that means.  A secret stigmata that tells you how you feel.  Chemistry - two people having a physical reaction to one another.

The last of the three - Physics.  I'm even less a Physics expert than Chemist, but I take it generally to be a discussion and understanding how the world (infinity of being and non-being) operates, at a micro level.  Feeling that someone approves of my behaviour, being, skill, observations helps to make my world operate more effectively.  People will always work better with you if they approve, than if they don't approve.  So I want to make things run more smoothly.

And this is about fitting into your environment.  The rules which are set - culturally, legally, etc, all have a bearing.  In general I follow 'the rules'.  But have always had trouble where I don't understand of believe the rules are reasonable.  Live and let live has always been my motto - how a person chooses to live their life is not normally of concern.  Some things, yes.  A rampaging gun-man might not get my approval.  Extremists.  People who impose their way of life on others.

So if my basis on the rules is to the good of all, I am happy to follow it.  And make the world run smoothly. 

No
Sashaying through life completely without regard for anyone is a wholely fruitless state of existence.  We humans are built upon shared working to achieve more.  How else could we have evolved - if those before us had not taken a step further than their predecessor and on, and on.  However, there are lots of times when I don't care what people think.

When I don't respect them, their actions or judgement.
When I don't think they have a just reason for making a judgement on me.

The live and let live motto fits in here too though.  If people don't understand my reasons for living the way I do, they can still accept that it is my choice.  Just as I think the same about others.  If their disapproval harms me, then I am unhappy, and that will make me react differently to them.  The wheel turns, and we move on.  With luck, circumstance and hard work, you don't have to work repeatedly through the same problems too often.  I try not to anyway.

But I try not to get there anyway.  I want people to like what I do.

But more important than all of this, I want to like what I do.  And mostly, I do.

Back to colour

Feeling a lot better today. Thank you for your kind thoughts.

I still don't know how to sort some things - perhaps even thAt phrase says it all. Sort. Maybe I should stop trying to sort things. Maybe that is impinging on free will, when it isn't mine to sort.

But I hate seeing someone in pain. Especially someone so special.

Time will tell.

Anyway, a project has come to fruition today. Nearly two projects. And the results - although as yet untested, should be just as hoped. Comfort and function for a loved one.

And achieving something is a tonic.

As is laughing with a friend.
The simple things in life are really so incredibly special to me.

Black

I'm at a loss.
Husband falling apart. How to help?

Work descending into poor performance. Through over commitment mostly. And poor prioritisation. I can't do it all.

Bank account sick.

Mother in law getting frail.

At least son is cool.

The banal ramblings of a Modern working woman. Not unusual I'm sure. But very personal while you're going through it.

The Trials of Imagination

Is Imagination a good thing?

Or a bad thing?

On one hand, it sends you spiralling safely into worlds you will never have to risk, and at the end of it all, it lets you return home.  You don't have to go there again if you don't want to (although nightmares have a will of their own).  It's a way of testing things you think you might want to explore, but won't, or can't, or shouldn't do.  We all have those, I'm sure.

The illusion is that imagination is not nearly so dangerous as reality.  In actual terms, maybe it is more dangerous.

On the second (and covert) hand, Imagination opens doors, and then you find you can't close them again.  Imagination is the rust on the hinges, the sock stuffed under the door-jamb, the moisture that swells the wood - preventing a previously snug fit from filling its chosen and previously acceptable hole.

Some liken it to allowing a caged bird to fly free, and then trying to get it back into the cage - whilst expecting it to be happy there.  John Osborne said 'A Taste of Honey' 'is a dangerous thing' in his play of the same (capitalised) name.  He could have been talking about imagination too.

My imagination is wild and free, and wanders all over the place.  It subverts my every day life, and criticises me for my dullness.  It is 'mad, bad and dangerous to know' - a phrase used by Lady Caroline Lamb to describe Lord Byron - but she might have been surreptitiously rummaging in my head.

There are only a few people who see my imagination.  A very few.  People I value and trust.  But not everyone I value and trust.  Only those I am not afeared of misunderstanding.

I used to keep it under lock and key.  Or subvert it into simple creative pleasures in dramatic terms - but since all that went by the wayside, it has been delving deeper into the madness of the psyche in a much more dangerous way.

And I don't know if that is a good or a bad thing.

I only know, that it is very difficult to give it up.









It really doesn't want to go back in the cage.  It wants to fly free.



Being Alive

A moment of clarity from Stephen Sondheim

Bobby is a confirmed batchelor, whose married friends continually try and find him a girlfriend.  Throughout the show he muses on who and why and what a partner should mean, and debates whether he wants one.  His final frustrated tirade, and subsequent acceptance/revelation is emotive, and in both words and music.

It speaks to me about what we all want - or get - from any relationship.

ROBERT:  What do you get? (with a relationship)

Someone to hold you too close,
Someone to hurt you too deep,
Someone to sit in your chair,
To ruin your sleep.


Someone to need you too much,
Someone to know you too well,
Someone to pull you up short
And put you through hell.

Someone you have to let in,
Someone whose feelings you spare,
Someone who, like it or not,
Will want you to share
A little, a lot.

Someone to crowd you with love,
Someone to force you to care,
Someone to make you come through,
Who'll always be there,
As frightened as you
Of being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive.

He realises what he really wants.
Somebody, hold me too close,
Somebody, hurt me too deep,
Somebody, sit in my chair
And ruin my sleep
And make me aware
Of being alive,
Being alive.

Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.

Make me confused,
Mock me with praise,
Let me be used,
Vary my days.
But alone is alone, not alive.

Somebody, crowd me with love,
Somebody, force me to care,
Somebody, make me come through,
I'll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive!

If you get the chance, listen to the full vocal version. 

I love this song.  It reminds me that there is a very fine line between right and wrong in relationship terms.  Sometimes it just takes one word to change the meaning.

Life can be very subtle.

Stuck in the Mud

Well, I'm still here, even though I've not been posting.  And it wasn't because my activity earlier this month debilitated me.  Just that there has been so much going on.  And also that I've been struggling to make enough sense, in one place at one time, in liaison with the computer, to make any cohesive attempt at showing my thoughts.

I've been rather pressured by things that are directly or indirectly my responsibility.  Helping another to make choices, when he really would rather not.  This is a process of sowing the seed, and encouraging conversation to make him order his own mind, and think about the future.  I think we might finally be getting somewhere now.  There has been a change in him that is welcomed.  As I have posted before, it is indifference that really gets my goat, not a strong opinion and then working towards it - even if it is in what I see as the wrong direction.  So I'm happy that the seed has germinated, and now he has to water it and care for it.

...and in spite of the above analogy - it is his seed, not mine.  I just gave him the seed catalogue to look at. 

He might not choose the seed I wanted him to plant - but then it's not my choice - or seed - or goat.

And that is the way it should be.

On a professional front, I've been challenged on work done over a year ago.  It is good to make me go through this and correct the anomaly, but frustrating when I was told that it was all done and dusted, and the problem was not material.  This type of work is not in my comfort zone, although with hard work, I've got through it so far.  One more step to go.  I need to think carefully about this one, but it is doable.

Looking back is good.  It reaffirms what went right and what went wrong.  It's just frustrating to be put on the spot again, when you thought all that was over.  Like opening an old wound, digging a spoon in and waggling it about.  Then adding a bit of salt for good measure.  Oh well- that is what they pay me for. 

Other frustrations abound there - people, circumstances, and an endless battle of priorities.  I simply can't do everything.  There - I've said it.  That's been annoying me hugely this week, as I really want to help everyone.  But I can't do it all - and develop the system too.  There just aren't enough hours in the week.  My working hours are creeping up again... need to watch that one.

But I can remove 'waste' from the system where possible.  Like the 'lean-working' I'm always on about, I can assess the steps of the process and work out what is value-added.  then cut out anything that isn't so categorised.  I've got to do that. 

I think I'll go and sort my tupperware cupboard now.

And yes, these beautiful things really are made of tupperware.  There can be innovation and beauty in all things - a lesson for us all.

I Step Up

It's easy to take things for granted.  Often you don't see their worth until they are gone.

Today I'm making damn sure I appreciate what is fantastic about my life.  I won't get to everything but the important ones know who they are.

It's a reflective time.  Trying hard to ignore creeping doubts about what I've done.  But hey, I can't change anything that is in the past.  Just learn from it and move on.  All the windows are open because of the unseasonal heat - it's not a good day for doing the life laundry, but there is lots of sorting and cleaning going on.  Finishing off a few things feels good - especially when they've been hanging around for a while.

Count Vronsky in Tolstoy's Anna Karenin, does this: every now and then he has a “laundry day” where he puts all his affairs in order, and completely clears his mind.  And when he’s finished “doing his laundry” (he doesn’t actually wash his clothes), he feels like a new man. His friend says it always looks like he just got out of a bath.  Generally, he's not a terribly nice chap, but he is efficient.  And knows where his towel is (Douglas Adams - HHGTTG)

I've foolishly ordered a portrait.  I've been meaning to do it for several years - about 12 I guess - to be taken from an old and wistful photograph.  Finally I've found someone I think will do it justice, and hope that it comes out well.  It seems a little immodest of me, but then I need to certify my own confidence.  And I won't have to look at it too often - as it's a family present.  It's an irrational purchase really.  But the product also of money I had put by to do something very special, which never happened, and will probably not anyway.  So it's gone to good use.

I feel proud of myself.  I'm taking a leap of faith.  I'm trusting people to do their job, and not trying to do it for them - not that I could anyway.  And I've achieved a couple of goals along the way.  There are many more to go, but Confucious said

And that's probably an over-used quote, but I like it just the same.  I've started my journey over and over.  it seems as though every journey is one step - you never quite reach the end, just take the next journey, or step, in your stride.  Changing direction is frequent.  And it never quite reaches the finish line.  Perhaps that is why sports are so popular - you do come to an end.  The end of the race, the end of the match.  And then you prepare for the next one.  With life, it's one step after the other.

But I'm happy.  Happy that I'm taking a step forward, and am looking back at all the good and bad things that have happened.  More good than bad I'm glad to say.  I will take my leap and be done.

The Sting in the Tale

It’s a frustration of mine that, quite often, wonderful things are spoilt by an adverse twist that taints perfection with a stained thought.  On this occasion, a quite beautiful experience of peace and inspiration was ended with slight pain and suffering.    I was stung by a bee.  It got caught inside my trouser leg and obviously feared for its own safety.   It should have been insignificant to me, but following my relaxed state, a 2 hour drive which vibrated across the sting, and a brisk walk up 4 flights of stairs, a reaction took place and illness set in.  The pain of the aftermath so far away from home, changed plans and caused some distress.  Not a major illness, you understand, but enough to tarnish the memory of the previous days.

This has happened before.  Well, not the bee sting, (this was new) but the ‘sting’ of something at the end of beauty.  And I know that it has happened to friends in the same way.  There is a saying that with childbirth, a woman never remembers the pain, only the glorious emotion of the baby that follows.  Otherwise, why would any woman ever choose to have subsequent children?  This theory I concur with.  The wonder and happiness (and busy-ness) of what follows wipes clean the slate and allows the mother to bond with the baby – who has caused the pain through no fault of their own – an innocent thrust into a circumstance with no intention to harm.  It was not the bee’s ‘fault’ – it was trying to save itself.  This should therefore mean that the bad memories dissipate, leaving only the good ones...  and will probably be so, but here, in the lee of the event (and still feeling washed out by the experience) I have almost forgotten the good.

I tend to arrange these memories as separate ones.  The beauty is not altered, and on a different page there is the learning – and soon to be forgotten pain – of what happened afterwards.  It is this compartmentalisation that helps me to sustain life and hope.  I can look at these events as mutually exclusive.  One did not lead to another – even when one was in fact caused during another – I would not have been stung had I not been where I was (32 beehives perhaps held high risk of someone falling foul of the occupants) – they were incidentally connected and therefore should be only considered in that light.

Perhaps this is rather functional.  Could it be thought too sterile?  After all, life is a series of interrelated events.  They often link to each other, as experience shared in one area will no doubt influence the actions and outcomes of another moment in time.  We grow by our experiences.  We germinate ideas based on pain: a spark of magic from moments of distress.  Out of need comes great learning.  The important thing is to form that learning – not to forget any lesson, and not to read evil into the simplest of actualities.

The bee is a conundrum.  Unlike the garish wasp, the gentle honeybee dies after stinging.  It only stings once, in great need.  Does the bee know that it will die?  In this case it felt it was in peril – but did it have a sense of how serious a scenario was playing out?  Has it spent its life stopping the anger in other circumstances so that it could live longer?  I know nothing of the consciousness of bees, but in human terms it would be of great help to mankind’s evolution if killing was based on certain knowledge that death of the self would follow harm of another.  It would inform human actions greatly.  Admittedly some would not care.  Others would be deterred.  Of course this might lead to overpopulation on an even grander scale than is currently so: I don’t propose it as a solution to the world’s ills.  But it would make mankind a different beast.

If the bee does not know it will die, and it is a simple biological and automatic response to life threatening danger, then is there a sadness about its loss?  Perhaps, or perhaps not.  We tend to personify inanimate objects with human traits and put our own suffering onto them.  We also give living creatures the powers of humans – and subsequently some develop the sensitivity to eating/killing them.  Thirty-two hives full of bees – do they miss their fallen compatriot?  Or just not notice its loss.  Even in human communities, 32 times the size of a hive – the loss of a fellow town member for example would not – could not – always cause grief. 

But as usual, I digress.  I will move forward and remember separately the idyll of solitary creation.  The retreat; the sabbatical from life; the chance to reflect.  I should focus on those reflections, and take their meaning: but in reality the peace was one where I shut down from the trials of conscience of the past months.  Simply shut them out, like my network shutting me off for being out of its distant environs.  And the feeling on my return, is that I have changed nothing, and perhaps need to change nothing.  I do not run away to make any decision, I am happy that I feel the way I do, complex though it may be.  The simple answer is that there is no answer.  Changing one thing would change many others, some good, some bad.  The more complex answer is that I still hope not to have to change anything.  Just enjoy effortless pleasures when they arise.

To allow myself a moment of sentimentality, the poor bee is no more.  I suffered a few days of sharp but minor pain in mourning for her death.  If I need to take any more learning from the experience, there are two elements.  Firstly, when I am relaxed, I am susceptible.  Second, I am also strong.  I made decisions, and got myself home in spite of my weakened and distressed state.  And the learning is that I did not have to rely on anyone else to solve the problem.  So the future is a subtle and rainbow striped horizon.  There will be wonder, and there will be pain.  But I have confidence in my ability to plough through the field, and grow more of the best things in life.

I just had a lovely dream, of dancing in a meadow, and am filled with hope and light and potential.  Rich green grass under my feet, and we danced as one.  There was a sense of freedom, of a journey, and one that I was not frightened of taking.  Time to book another exploration then.  Little bee, you are one of billions, but you will not be forgotten.

They all grow up eventually

I'm sitting waiting for my son to finish his first driving lesson. How soon this has all come along, and although it's early in this case, I'm sure I will see a steady decrease in his need of me as the next couple of years progress. I'm so glad he's confident in this area. We've tried so hard over the years, and it's not been easy. Partly because he has gained the husband's temperament, and my weak areas too. That sounds a little odd, and most that knew me would declaim my lack of confidence.

The thing is, it's mostly a show. I hide my insecurities very well, and only those with the deepest of understanding see through the glaze. It's a strong glaze, built on years of layered lacquer, and a fine dusting of schmoozey light deflection. It's there, but light bends around the true me.

So the boy has the worst of that. Or is it that I have created circumstances where he has fallen down, and I picked him up rather than let him get up himself. I didn't think I did that but when 20:20 hindsight kicks in, you start doubting yourself.  Children pick up on who you are, not just what you want them to be.  There will inevitably be some of your bad habits that they pick up - and it's hopefully not the worst ones. 

In their learning process, they see what is considered normal, and believe that it is normal.  Perhaps that's aggressive behaviour, drink or drug addition.  Perhaps its bossiness, being spoilt, or ego. Perhaps it's the paradigm that it is possible to love multiple people at the same time.  Perhaps it's the lovely laid back attitude, lack of arguments, cynicism, humour and sensitivity.  Perhaps it's the ability to be a good and deep friend, but only to a small number of people.  Maybe it's the work ethic, or principles, or unbending beliefs.

Maybe it's more or less of any of those things.  Not just me, but all of humanity rises and falls when one parent-child relationship continues the delegated responsibility for the grandparent's ideals. 

But it mutates slightly through each step.  My son is not me.  He may have some of my ideals (the good ones I hope) but he is so much more - as he has all his own ideals too.  I hope to share in learning about those ideals as I get older, and he does too.  I hope I have a friend in my son.

Forgive the cheesy picture, but don't we all want the best for our children?

Friendship

Last weekend I met up severally with two old friends.  Both have been a huge part of my life, although one has slipped back in the number of times we meet for quite a few years.  But it remains true that I can slip back into deep and wonderful conversation with both at the drop of a hat.

For one of them, it is an unconventional hat, perhaps a patchwork beret or something wild and arty.  Practical, but uncompromising; and rightfully so.  Anything that is not right, is dispensed with.  And the glamour and certainty is fantastic.  I love her for her confidence, in life, in herself, in the world – and for her hefty batch of cynicism and practicality.  She’s amazing.

And so supportive of me.  But still very neutral and open.  She’s always so busy doing things, I can relax and not have to be the life and soul of the party.  Which is refreshing, as I play that role so much of the time.

There was a third party present though, and so I wasn’t as open as I would normally be, and did not get to speak about what was really affecting me.  This was interesting, but acceptable, and I’m sure there will be other times for that conversation.  In fact I know there will be.

The other hat was from long ago (probably a mad bobble hat or piece of carnival silliness).  I’d felt that we’d rather lost touch, but it turns out we’ve been around the houses in very different directions and ended up in a very similar place emotionally.  She’s also supporting and neutral.  There is rather a lot of history there, and we did quite a bit of sceptical reminiscing this time.  There was no interruption, no distraction, and no holding back.  We're mad.  Quite mad.  But she has encouraged me to do something that has been suggested by another wonderful friend who believes in me.  And what's more, I've done it.  So, we shall see how that turns out...

I believe in both of them, and trust them implicitly.  It’s ridiculous how I haven’t seen much of either lately, something I really must put right.  Not that I don’t have other excellent friends; but every piece in the puzzle of me helps me see the full picture.  And no hats were dropped in the making of this blog.

"Letters To My Son" by Kent Nerburn

This is so good I had to share it in full.  And I've bought the book....

Why people fall in love?

It is a mystery why we fall in love. It is a mystery how it
happens. It is a mystery when it comes. It is a mystery why
some love grows and it is a mystery why some love fails.

You can analyze this mystery and look for reasons and
causes, but you will never do anymore that take the life out
of the experience. Just as life itself is more than the sum of
the bones and muscles and electrical impulses in the body,
love is more than the sum of the interests and attractions
and commonalities that two people share. And just as life
itself is a gift that comes and goes in its own time, so too, the
coming of love must be taken as an unfathomable gift that
cannot be questioned in its ways.

Sometimes, hopefully at least once in your life - the gift of
love will come to you in full flower. Take hold of it and
celebrate it in all inexpressible beauty. This is the dream we
all share. More often, it will come and take hold of you,
celebrate you for a brief moment, then move on.

When this happen to young people, they too often try to
grasp the love and hold it to them, refusing to see that it is a
gift that just as freely, moves away. When they fall out of
love, or the person they love feels the spirit of love leaving,
they try desperately to reclaim the love that is lost rather
than accepting the gift for what it was, then moving on.

They want answers where there are no answers. They
want to know what is wrong in them that makes the other
person no longer love them, or try to get their love to change,
thinking that if some small things were different, love would
bloom again. They blame their circumstances and say that if
they go far away and start a new life, their love will grow.

They try anything to give meaning to what has happened. But
there is no meaning beyond the love itself, and until they
accept its own mysterious ways, they live in a sea of misery.

You need to know this about love, and accept it. You need to
treat what it brings you with kindness. If you find yourself in
love with someone who does not love you, be gentle with
yourself. There is nothing wrong with you. Love just didn't
choose to rest in the other person's heart.

If you find yourself someone in love with you but you don't
love him back, feel honored that love came and called at your
door, but gently refuse the gift you cannot return. Do not
take advantage; do not cause pain. How you deal with love
is how you deal with yourself. All our hearts feel the same
pains and joys, even if our lives and ways are different.

If you fall in love with another, and he falls in love with you,
and then love chooses to leave, do not try to reclaim it nor to
assess blame. Let it go. There is a reason and there is a
meaning. You will know in time.

Remember that you don't choose love. Love chooses you. All
you can really do is accept it for all its mystery when it
comes into your life. Feel the way it fills you to overflowing,
then reach out and give it away. Give it back to the person
who brought it alive in you. Give it to others who deem it
poor in spirit. Give it to the world around you in any way you can.
There is where many lovers go wrong. Having been so long
without love, they understand love only as a need. They see
their hearts as empty places that will be filled by love, and
they begin to look at love as something that flows to them
rather than from them.

The first blush of new love is filled to overflowing, but as
their love cools, they revert to seeing their love as a need.
They cease to be someone who generates love and instead
become someone who seeks love. They forget that the
secret of love is that it is a gift, and that it can be made to
grow only by giving it away.

Remember this and keep it to your heart. Love has its time, its
own season, its own reason for coming and going. You
cannot bribe it or coerce it, or reason it into staying. You can
only embrace it when it arrives and give it away when it
comes to you. But if it chooses to leave from your heart or
from the heart of your lover, there is nothing you can do and
there is nothing you should do. Love always has been and
always will be a mystery. BE GLAD THAT IT CAME TO LIVE
FOR A MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE.

If you keep you heart open, it will come again...

Transition and simplicity

Erwin G. Kotzab, Photographer

'She sees shooting stars and comet tails
She's got heaven in her eyes
She says I don't need to be an angel
But I'm nothing if I'm not this high
But we only stay in orbit
For a moment of time'
Counting Crows

Thank you to this wonderful group of musicians for these words.  There are too many meanings in them to count, but that's ok.  I feel refreshed and revived today.  Ready to face the new world.  It's good knowing I have such good friends that they can put up with my silliness, and my sensibilities.

Aim high.  There's nothing wrong with that at all - it's a question of purpose and design.  Having a purpose helps you to take one step after the other to reach something wonderful.  Design is about working out what steps to take to get there.  Looking up into the canopy leads you to ask what else is up there.  Trying to climb a tree to aim higher is probably not a good idea - you may fall, or get stuck, but you get a good view while you are up there.  And that stays with you for a long time.

'Many people die with their music still in them.  Why is this so?  Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live.  Before they know it, time runs out.' 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Supreme Court Judge and Moral Sceptic

I am lucky, so lucky to have what I have.  I may waver, but I do believe that everything good is worth fighting for.  It's hard work sometimes.  Often.  Maybe even every day.  But the time to worry is when you don't care and so can't be bothered to fight.  That is the step into oblivion.

But it is worth fighting for more.  Everyone who is worth something sees comet tails and shooting stars.  One should have heaven in your eyes, and if someone sees you as heaven, then relish the joy of it, irrespective of what might happen tomorrow or the next day.  Live for the moment, plan for tomorrow.

'To change one's life:  Start immediately.  Do it flamboyantly.  No exceptions. ' William James, Philosopher

 Well, get on and do it now!

“Sometimes I'm confused by what I think is really obvious. But what I think is really obvious obviously isn't obvious...” Michael Stipe

It seems that all is well.  Having portrayed uncertainty, disconnect, disapproval and indifference all weekend, now it seems that the praise is sung for the weekend's excursions and location.  I didn't see that one coming.









My mood has been somewhat depressed by the seeming atmosphere.  Accepting that a migraine started things off badly, was it too much to ask for a little positive speaking?

I really feel I should know these things by now.  If not now, then when will I learn the lessons?

However, all is well now.

The bigger garden pt 2

The picture frame is still large. There are squirrels in it, who bravely scamper all across their territory. Tomorrow it will return to normal. I had hoped that it might be returning with a new insight. On some level that is true. I have hinted, asked, encouraged, even slightly coersed information on feelings and intentions. To little avail. Well, a spirit of conversation maybe. But I can't even get below the surface.

I've been spoilt. I've come to think of feelings as being worth talking about, good and bad. Have I changed? Have I become more challenging, or have I higher expectations? I suppose I have. Or was I just ignoring it previously?

I still talk about the future. I ask what is wanted. Practical things are all we can discuss. And that is all we will ever discuss. I must accept that, and not expect more - it is just not going to change.

Should I accept? Or is that weakness? I realised from talking to a friend this week, that I have been singing the same tune for a number of years, and yet cannot bring myself to move forward. It isn't broken, so maybe I don't need to 'fix' it. I just need to learn to accept, like countless generations before me. And stop reflecting, challenging and lamenting my woes.

I know what to do. Now I need the courage to do it. But with renewed vigour, thanks to the picture frame and some good friends.

A bigger garden

Today I have a new viewpoint. To borrow an analogy from a new friend and kindred spirit, (thank you) there is a picture frame through which I view the world. It is very large. Across a whole wall it is broken into sections, rectangular at the lower panels and with an angled edge at the higher, as the window leads up to the pitched roof. Glass gables I suppose you might say.

The effect is to look like the forest outside is part of my world inside. It is green and brown, and very, very still and quiet. The trees stand tall and firm. They disappear into the distance in a triumph of perspective generosity; allowing my eye to wonder what is beyond. I know it is more of the same, with a few expected changes and perhaps some unexpected challenges. There will also be some wonderful surprises. Things you come across, that are worth exploring.

The trees are serene and constant. All the tendencies of a goddess's mind. Sensitive and somewhat aloof, but constant. Dappled light streams through the leaves, indicating the day beyond.

I sit alone though. Contemplating the stillness.

Roses - part two

There aren't many songs about roses (well, ones I like, anyway).  But this one came to mind.
Beautiful lyrics.

'There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.
But did you know,  That when it snows,
My eyes become large and
The light that you shine can be seen.
Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray.
Ooh, The more I get of you,
The stranger it feels, yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the gray.
There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
But did you know,  That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray.
Ooh, the more I get of you
The stranger it feels, yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom.
A light hits the gloom on the gray,

I've been kissed by a rose on the gray,
I've been kissed by a rose
I've been kissed by a rose on the gray,
...And if I should fall along the way
I've been kissed by a rose
.....'
by Seal

Bliss

Roses

Two roses are in bloom in my garden.  Not two plants, just two roses. Peachy-apricot and today they sit flawlessly on the bush, no blemishes, at the peak of their perfection, ready to take on the world. 

All the aphids or rot are gone, although they may always worry about their return.  The birds ignore them.  The sun radiates on them, even though the rays do not yet reach them, I know that today is their day. I admire them, and send their image to the world. 

Who knows how long it will last?  My view here is very simplistic, a hopeful simplicity (if only life were that simple).  What is important is that they enjoy the wonder that is today, forget the battles over, and find quiet ignorance of what may come.  Happy oblivion is so hard to come by.  Their perfection is unique - I know that to be such, they are flawed.  We are all flawed - and that is what makes us who we are.  The honesty of this perfection is knowing and admitting what we know about ourselves to be true.  I wouldn't want the roses to be anything else...

Aside from the beauteous roses, the apple tree is now shedding quite a few of the glut of apples – as predicted.  It simply was too much to handle, and they lie lost on the floor.  The blackbirds enjoy them though, and I even open the fallers to allow easy access to the flesh within.  The birds know this.  They are quite capable of pecking through the skin, and do so if I have not cut for them.  Of course they are totally self-sufficient – they are living beings.  Their evolution has brought them to a place where they can be so.  And I am happy that is the case.  I’m not trying to save a weak species from extinction, it is just a welcome recognition that I can sometimes help make their life easier.  That gives me some small feeling that I have helped – even though it may not have been needed.  And in any case, I would rather the fallen apples were used than wasted.

The air was cool as I walked barefoot on the lawn this morning.  All the promise of a glorious day ahead is given, although the sun has not yet reached high enough in the sky to warm the air.  It will do so later, and that will be good.  This time of year is wonderful, and unusually the garden is still green and lush, when normally it would be fading into brown by now.  The cycle of things is taking its course, but is always different – and this year the garden is sporting a new fence, a tidy pond, and is warming my heart.  Life goes on.

Reflections part two...

I realise last night's blog was uncharacteristically raw.  The response to something that unsettled me.

Your love for yourself is central to your ability to take new challenges and step forward bravely in everything that you do.  Part of it is a conviction that you can do what you are about to do.  And part of it is understanding what you are and are not capable of.  It’s a question of being realistic in these considerations, but also to understand that if there is something you have to do, then you need to find a way of do it, that doesn’t involve getting someone else to do it, or doing without it.

I have never suffered from lack of confidence.  Anyone who knows me would probably stake their life on this.  There are times though when it has wavered.

A long time ago I was a performer.  An actress, who could carry a song, and execute a dance.  But chiefly an actress.  I was up there on the stage portraying someone other than myself.  One of the things about this was that you usually have a script.  When you didn’t – that horrific word ‘improvisation’ – I would shy away and never create what I thought of as good work.  I couldn’t think quickly enough to say the things that really meant what I wished to convey.  So I avoided it.

Then a friend convinced me to do something that involved high risk improvisation – face to face with the public.  I was petrified.  But hooked.  I wasn’t very good that first time, and remember freezing at one point, and being helped out by one of my colleagues.  But I did get something out of it, and went on to do many more.  My confidence in myself grew.  In being myself on stage, rather than having to be a character.  And this spread into my work life, and other hobbies, allowing me to find a whole new sector of operations.

So I do understand a little of what someone close to me is going through.  But I am frustrated, as every opportunity has been given to develop those skills.  Something as simple as ordering a meal is – seemingly – impossible.  Or at least, he shies away from it.

I’ve always thought of this as laziness, and been cross, but got on and done it anyway.  But I now see that my ‘giving in’ has created a bigger problem.  I do know I haven’t been negligent – I’m sure about that.  I do know that I’ve only done what I thought was right for him.  Have I spoilt him?  Maybe.

So it’s back to square two.  (Square one would probably be an over simplification)  Little steps.

What has been hard is that another person has been rather critical on my lack of understanding.  As though he knows so much more.  Yes, he is probably far quieter than I.  But the conversation gave the impression that I was in the wrong for acting as I have done.  And turned it in on himself as an equal victim that I didn’t understand.  I don’t know where to go with that one – he won’t tell me what is really bothering him.  So I’m in the dark.  I might have suspicions, but I can’t do anything about those until confirmed.  And this is typical.  I want to know.  I ask, but I never get any answers, real, implied or hints. 

How am I meant to know what to do?  How is anyone meant to know what someone wants if they refuse to communicate?  I want the best for them both.  So how to go about it?

The quandary for now is such.  I will try to find answers and solutions.

My favourite theorist Stephen Covey says if you want to change someone for the better, make sure you are who you want to be first.  Easier said than done, especially when you believed it was all going well.  Still, always good to take another look.  And I know there are some things that I should avoid.  But those are the sweetest pleasures.  Do I have to take the bland option?

Talking rubbish

It's late, and a conversation has stolen my peace.

Something that I thought was relatively stable has proved not to be so, and needs urgent attention. But I'm not meant to know.

How to give someone confidence in himself? Or two people?

Have I lost sight of all that matters? In pursuit of my own life.

Musings about Cake

Cake is lovely.  There is simply no other way of describing it. 

It can be light, fluffy and barely appear to be there, or it can be dark, heavier and more intense. 

It might have a topping on it – of icky-sticky butter-cream, which sweetens the experience far past the voyages of sensibleness.  Or a topping to give texture, such as the crunch of chopped nuts, chocolate strands, or even sweet delicacies.  

It might have things inside it, like gooey jam – raspberry is my favourite, but I also have a penchant for blackcurrant’s bitter-sweet edge, which offsets the richness of a warm vanilla sponge.  Ah, and cake made with real vanilla is second to none.

I’m not one of these girls who have an overt desire for chocolate cake.  It’s fine, but I prefer the simplicity of a Victoria Sponge over heavy cocoa beans.  Or English Madeira Cake… simplicity personified.

But no fruit.  Well, occasionally, may be, but I am not in favour of too many complex flavours at the same time.  Christmas Cake is just too much of a good thing all at once – you can’t tell what is happening to the flavour – and I am a bit of a control freak.

The exception to the rule (isn’t there always), is carrot cake.  Weird and wacky; but I like it.  It has to be naked of those silly passion-fruit cream toppings though, and be lavish in its cinnamon with a hint of cloves.  You see – I really know what I like, although if someone comes up with a new recipe – I’ll give it a try.  Finding a new favourite is always just fine.

Maybe some chocolate chips.

Maybe it’s best when you’ve made it yourself – but also good when someone has made it for you.

And when?  Well, cake can be right for any time of the day or night. It is a multi-purpose food-stuff.  When the mood takes, or planned and strategized.  Accompanied by tea, or port, or cream poured over.  It might even share the plate with some ripe, luscious strawberries... or be drizzled with lemon syrup...

Oh dear, I’m going to have to go and buy some now…

Reflections

I don't break easily.  I have no doubt that I could be broken - particularly if someone was peculiarly close to knowing the real me.  But whilst it might happen, it would be understandable.  And so I would know why.

And would accept.  I have to accept.  Fighting eternal power is fruitless.

I hope that there would never be a reason to fear such a thing. Knots can be untied, they don't have to be cut. That I can deal with every eventuality... Well, I've made that my goal.

I don't regret.  I analyse, understand, catalogue and move on.  I know where my towel is.  Well, most of the time.

I am a product of my experiences.  If I had had different ones, I would be a different person now.  Not so... curious.  Not so ... patient.

I've not had everything I ever wanted.  But I have had lots that I did, once want.  That I still do want.

A paradigm of paradoxes.

Yep, that describes me well.

'No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe' - John Donne, 1624



No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe;
every man is a peece of the Continent,

a part of the maine;

if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse,
as well as if a Promontorie were,
as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine own were;

any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde;

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

Today has been quite changeable.  It started with a high - and then another.  Personal things that I've longed to do for some time, and now have done.

A quiet day, doing chores, tidying heart and home, and a little work thrown in. 

Well, quite a lot of work really, but I am surprisingly mellow about it.  A deadline on Monday.  My team have noted that I seem not to care.  This is not true - I care very much, but have finally managed to set it in perspective.  

This year I have taken control.  I am no longer reliant on a system that fights me every step of the way.  I take what it gives and then adjust for the things I know are missing.  Bringing everything back to completeness.  I have learned to trust my team, to allow them to help me, and take ownership and develop their own ideas and strategms.  And it has helped.  The weight of the job is not just on my shoulders, they help me carry the heavy load.  And they too benefit from this.  An Island is only an island if you look at the water.  We are all connected beneath the surface.

What would be good is if everything worked perfectly first time.  If there were no adjustments to make, and if the system did all the work.  But that never happens.  Ever.  In anything.  So why should I be trying to attain the impossible here in my work life, as I have done in my private.  Who cares about my struggles?  They want my work to be the best, to use it for their aims (and abuse it when it suits), but do not care or understand the sweat and tears that lie beneath.

That doesn't mean to say I don't try my best.  Lord knows I've struggled to perfect things.  But even though most of us know there is no 'Happy Ever After', we still try to attain it. We dream about it, and write it down in books.  I get paid to do a job - and doing it well makes me happy.  My own terms, my rules.

Do I want there to be a Happy Ever After?  If I did get it right, first time, would it provide the challenge during or the satisfaction on completion?  The satisfaction -yes, it probably would give, the first time.  But the second or the third.... ?  Satisfaction is like a drug - we need to be challenged more to gain it.  Each step further than the last.  To be able to taste the next sip of nectar - a new step, richer, thicker, more idyllic than the last.  We want to bathe in such luxury, but know that it is not good for us.  It makes us want more.

In work, that is accepted.  The consumate professional works to an end, achieves (or doesn't) and moves on to new things.  Perhaps that is why I am so cool - I have reached the point at which I should move on, but can't, just yet, and that has made me switch off from the pain of frustration.  I should move, refresh the challenge.

But I don't want to leave things half finished.  Walking away now would seem like abandonment on my part - I have to finish what I have started.  Although nothing will be 'finished' in the pure sense, it will carry on growing and developing for many years.  But I can reach a stable state, that has a future.  I care what happens afterwards - when I am gone.  I want to be remembered in a good light.  (As a shining beam in the gloom would be nice, but that is too much to ask...)  And it makes me happy to know that I leave that legacy.


Such a waste

Do any of us ever achieve what we set out to do?  We may achieve a version of what was started, but it has often evolved into something different.  All we can hope is that we have instilled some of our values into it, and given it the best start in life.  To allow it to become its own thing, is perhaps one of the challenges - like letting a grown child out into the world. 

We also learn by the journey, and sometimes, just sometimes, the thing we achieve is far better than we ever dreamed of.  Our imagination is not infinite - combine the imaginations of valued people along with your own, and you can make something amazing together.  And it is not the end, but just the beginning. 

Father Alfred D'Souza - mysterious possible theologian and philosopher 
'For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin -- real life.
But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first,
some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.
At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
This perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness.
Happiness is the way.
So treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one.
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.'

And finally for today

'If you want to be happy, be.'  ~Leo Tolstoy