Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Not doing better.
So many facets of essentially this same mis-guided drive for perfection. It pervades so much of what I do and feel. I want to do better. I want to be a better person. Surely there's nothing wrong in that? It seems almost perverse to me that in order to progress I must learn to accept and love my imperfections first, and then go on to forgive myself for them. Where is the logic in that? It seems contradictory to me. It is imperfection that I am trying to overcome.
Yet I do see that this logic of mine has it's own inherent flaws. Since it is impossible to be perfect should I then never love myself? Where does that leave me? In a life-long state of being unfulfilled and unloved ... and all because I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the fact that it is perfectly OK to be imperfect.
Why then do I entertain this idea that I must strive for perfection in all that I am and do? Is it arrogance? Stupidity? I think perhaps it is another consequence of the same rigidity of thought that I talked about in exercise two. It's hard to break out of certain kinds of thought patterns, particularly when they are the product of life-long beliefs. I can see that.
I do not expect perfection in others. Far from it. I am forgiving of others in a way I find almost impossible to be towards myself and I'm not sure how to unravel the reasons for that. My best guess is that it stems from my childhood belief that if I had been a good girl then the bad stuff wouldn't have happened.
In the chaotic environment of violence and abuse of those early years it was hard to see any sense. Hard to see why ... any kind of cause and effect. I couldn't figure out the rules on how to act so as to stay safe from all that. Children often only view events with themselves in the center ... it is the nature of a child to think this way. So as a girl I thought I must be the cause. My badness made the bad things happen. Perhaps then I need to forgive that little girl who didn't know any better.
It feels so odd doing this exercise. It seems in many ways as if I have to forgive myself just for being me. Perhaps that's the whole point. It just makes me feel sad that's all ... like I'm having to give up on something I've wished so hard for and worked so hard for in my life ... and for what?
At the same time it is a relief. However much time I've wasted trying trying trying, I can learn a different path. I guess what it comes down to is that I need to forgive myself for not seeking answers to these deeper questions sooner. Nobody is perfect.
30 Days of Truth: Day 2
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Just as exercise one was easy peasy so today's is trickier. This learning to be gentler with oneself and becoming more self accepting is a difficult art to master.
Conversely after yesterdays exploration one thing I am learning to love about myself is that I am able to confront uncomfortable truths in a way I would never have thought possible even a couple of years ago. Not only to confront them but to work towards overcoming / improving / accepting them as well. I can see that some courage is involved in this process.
By learning to open my heart more freely I am increasingly becoming more self accepting. It is a slow process but one where I am able to see progress even so. I have had to be willing to explore my flaws and get used to the fact that whilst I might aspire to perfection I am never actually going to be perfect this side of eternity ... and possibly not even then!
There is something in the rigidity of my thinking that makes me incredibly resistant to this truth. It is one of those things I am having to force myself to accept, and learn to love myself regardless of these imperfections as I see them. I accept these things on a rational level, of course I do ... but emotionally accepting them is a different matter entirely. It grates.
I suppose I love the fact that at least I keep on trying. I am not passively waiting to be rescued but am paddling my own little boat through the choppy seas of life. Effort is never enough on it's own though ... something again I have had to learn to accept more fully. That along with having the humility to seek help with navigational skills. After all, it's pretty pointless paddling like crazy if we're just going around in circles.
Physically I love the fact that I look a lot like my mother. She looks good. She is a very direct and forthright person and it shows. She looks strict and stern because that is what runs through her core. She has had to be so strong in order to survive the knocks life has thrown her way. I admire that in her, even whilst wishing there was more softness in her character. I look at her and see myself years from now. In looks she has aged gracefully and I hope to emulate that.
Just as exercise one was easy peasy so today's is trickier. This learning to be gentler with oneself and becoming more self accepting is a difficult art to master.
Conversely after yesterdays exploration one thing I am learning to love about myself is that I am able to confront uncomfortable truths in a way I would never have thought possible even a couple of years ago. Not only to confront them but to work towards overcoming / improving / accepting them as well. I can see that some courage is involved in this process.
By learning to open my heart more freely I am increasingly becoming more self accepting. It is a slow process but one where I am able to see progress even so. I have had to be willing to explore my flaws and get used to the fact that whilst I might aspire to perfection I am never actually going to be perfect this side of eternity ... and possibly not even then!
There is something in the rigidity of my thinking that makes me incredibly resistant to this truth. It is one of those things I am having to force myself to accept, and learn to love myself regardless of these imperfections as I see them. I accept these things on a rational level, of course I do ... but emotionally accepting them is a different matter entirely. It grates.
I suppose I love the fact that at least I keep on trying. I am not passively waiting to be rescued but am paddling my own little boat through the choppy seas of life. Effort is never enough on it's own though ... something again I have had to learn to accept more fully. That along with having the humility to seek help with navigational skills. After all, it's pretty pointless paddling like crazy if we're just going around in circles.
Physically I love the fact that I look a lot like my mother. She looks good. She is a very direct and forthright person and it shows. She looks strict and stern because that is what runs through her core. She has had to be so strong in order to survive the knocks life has thrown her way. I admire that in her, even whilst wishing there was more softness in her character. I look at her and see myself years from now. In looks she has aged gracefully and I hope to emulate that.
30 Days of Truth
Shamelessly lifted from Christine's wonderful blog which you can find here
Almost identical exercise to one I've been recommended to undertake as part of my ongoing recovery but this one has slightly more questions so here goes ...
30 Days of Truth
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself
Day one: Something you hate about yourself.
Well, quite honestly I could write a whole book on this, but summarising;
> attention seeking
> lying
> self pitying
> cowardly
> playing the victim
> fantasising ridiculous scenarios in my head
> problem drinking
> laziness
> procrastination
Of these I believe two are fundamental to the rest. It seems like my propensity for attention seeking leads on to me fantasising, playing the victim, self pitying and lying.
This might start off with a real event that I exaggerate out of all proportion ... creating a complete fantasy out of relatively minor events, or out of some throw away comment made either towards me or in my presence. These lies start to take on a life of their own as I pile embellishments onto untruths, often shifting them through time and amalgamating them and interweaving them with other truths. Quite a tangled web.
It would be fair to say that in life generally there are times when I find it quite difficult to unpick things to segregate fact from fiction, and this is partly an extension of that difficulty. Having a vivid imagination and a love of stories feeds into it as well ... a trait I inherited from my father who to this day still tells very tall tales.
Why?
It would be all too easy to point to self esteem issues and other "mitigating" circumstances but in the end I think I am searching for comfort in any way possible. This does not excuse what I do, but goes some way to explain it. On the whole I do not hurt others with this aspect of my character and it is never my intention to do so in any way. I hate hurting people. I think it is generally just a very immature aspect of my personality that I have so far largely failed to even try to address.
The second is problem drinking. This has it's roots to some degree in the same drive for comfort. It is also in part an attempt to break out of my own head ... to rebel against my own best interest and to block out the dissonance I feel at doing things that are at odds with my own moral code. For various reasons my head fills with thoughts and feelings which I find hard to tolerate. To escape these I have used various means the latest being to return to drinking in an addictive way. I can see that escapism is at the root of this which in itself is an extension of fantasising. The two are thus inextricably linked.
Basically I find it hard to deal with the real world. I see this as a fundamental weakness in my character which manifests itself in all the ways I've described above.
Strangely it never occurred to me when doing this exercise to focus on something I hate about my appearance ... ha! Lucky really since there is in fact a super long list of those!
Almost identical exercise to one I've been recommended to undertake as part of my ongoing recovery but this one has slightly more questions so here goes ...
30 Days of Truth
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself
Day one: Something you hate about yourself.
Well, quite honestly I could write a whole book on this, but summarising;
> attention seeking
> lying
> self pitying
> cowardly
> playing the victim
> fantasising ridiculous scenarios in my head
> problem drinking
> laziness
> procrastination
Of these I believe two are fundamental to the rest. It seems like my propensity for attention seeking leads on to me fantasising, playing the victim, self pitying and lying.
This might start off with a real event that I exaggerate out of all proportion ... creating a complete fantasy out of relatively minor events, or out of some throw away comment made either towards me or in my presence. These lies start to take on a life of their own as I pile embellishments onto untruths, often shifting them through time and amalgamating them and interweaving them with other truths. Quite a tangled web.
It would be fair to say that in life generally there are times when I find it quite difficult to unpick things to segregate fact from fiction, and this is partly an extension of that difficulty. Having a vivid imagination and a love of stories feeds into it as well ... a trait I inherited from my father who to this day still tells very tall tales.
Why?
It would be all too easy to point to self esteem issues and other "mitigating" circumstances but in the end I think I am searching for comfort in any way possible. This does not excuse what I do, but goes some way to explain it. On the whole I do not hurt others with this aspect of my character and it is never my intention to do so in any way. I hate hurting people. I think it is generally just a very immature aspect of my personality that I have so far largely failed to even try to address.
The second is problem drinking. This has it's roots to some degree in the same drive for comfort. It is also in part an attempt to break out of my own head ... to rebel against my own best interest and to block out the dissonance I feel at doing things that are at odds with my own moral code. For various reasons my head fills with thoughts and feelings which I find hard to tolerate. To escape these I have used various means the latest being to return to drinking in an addictive way. I can see that escapism is at the root of this which in itself is an extension of fantasising. The two are thus inextricably linked.
Basically I find it hard to deal with the real world. I see this as a fundamental weakness in my character which manifests itself in all the ways I've described above.
Strangely it never occurred to me when doing this exercise to focus on something I hate about my appearance ... ha! Lucky really since there is in fact a super long list of those!
A quiet place
Lately I have been seeking silence
a quiet place to think things through
not to dwell
just to rest awhile
re-group after recent upheavals
change
change comes around the corner
and even when it wears a friendly face
still it frightens me
so much to learn
so much
it still surprises me
that I can spend years learning little
and yet moments learning much
it would be so useful
if these moments lasted longer
and happened more often
but I'm not altogether sure
my heart could take it
a quiet place to think things through
not to dwell
just to rest awhile
re-group after recent upheavals
change
change comes around the corner
and even when it wears a friendly face
still it frightens me
so much to learn
so much
it still surprises me
that I can spend years learning little
and yet moments learning much
it would be so useful
if these moments lasted longer
and happened more often
but I'm not altogether sure
my heart could take it
Poem #3
Life is never all one thing or another is it?
Over the last few months Oliver and I have taken to spending a couple of hours a week on our own doing "stuff". My sister and her husband have been taking their youngest son for speech therapy. Sitting in the waiting room is tedious for anyone but excruciating for a 7 year old. So instead we do our own thing.
A lot of the time it's simply a walk to the playground with our football and kite, or doing some Wii game if it's raining outside. We also cook, chat, practise juggling, magic tricks, make up jokes ... the list goes on but basically we hang out.
Maths. Oliver is stunningly good at maths. When we go for walks we start out with a mathematical problem that we can only use our heads to solve. No writing things down. Oliver loves to do mental gymnastics and I love to show him the shortcuts and tricks for helping to remember where we've got to in the process of finding the solution. Cool (his word).
And words. We try to think of the hardest word to rhyme anything with, and then try to find one that does. We do allow compound words and hyphenated ones because otherwise it's not fair (or so I've been informed). There are times when we must look quite mad as we bellow out that the word that rhymes with science is alliance ... we are still looking for a satisfactory rhyme for the word elephant.
On my fridge at home I have one of Oliver's first poems. When I look at it now I see that in his orderly manner he has noted the fact that this was in fact his third poem. Time passes so quickly don't you find? By keeping these reminders where I can see them I try to keep in mind that life is happening NOW. There is much to enjoy.
As some of you might have guessed, I am working through some things in my life at the moment. Even so, I am also finding time to have fun. Whenever I make a mental list of my blessings my family and friends come right up there at the top of my list. It is only recently that I have started to learn to rank myself up there too. Life is a journey.
This Regret of Mine
Taking stock of my life to date is an odd experience. How did I ever manage to get this far? I’m on the threshold of half a century of living but with very little idea beyond chronological aging of how I got here.
We have always had major difficulties in our intimate life despite nearly two decades having passed in our lives together. My gentle man is often at a loss as to how to help matters and this serves only to heighten my sense of total inadequacy in this most personal aspect of our relationship.
There are times when my body seems unable to distinguish between what lies in my memory and the reality of what is happening now. Between danger and safety. It is so tangled up and confusing that I don’t know how to describe it really. Other than to say that because of this there are times when I feel unable to endure being touched at all.
Sometimes this happens when my gentle man is “well under way”. This is the most difficult part of all for me. Whilst I enjoy the closeness of the initial stages and build up towards intimacy, I do not enjoy the sensations of the act itself, the movement inside of me. My body sends out distress signals that I sometimes find impossible to ignore. I do try to though. There are occasions when these signals are of sufficient magnitude to bring things to a halt and other times not. I have neither the will nor the courage to be more graphic but I’m sure you get the gist.
We are both aware that most of the problems stem from within me and from the past. And yet I can’t help feeling that on those occasions when he decides not to respond to my distress by stopping he is in some ways reinforcing the violation perpetrated by the monster man from so long ago.
I know that it’s not fair on either of us that this shadow hangs over us still. And I know that it is grossly unfair to characterise my loving gentle man as in any way similar to the one who did the damage all those years ago.
I suggested that we get some help. As it turns out though, I am not the only intensely private person in this relationship. In many ways I was relieved because in this as in so many areas of my life, I lack courage.
So we have soldiered on through the years. We talk about it now and then, but not much. When we broach the subject the conversation is usually short as this is not something either of us finds easy to discuss. Despite this, over time things have improved somewhat to the extent that we both find some enjoyment these days. At least sometimes. We are mostly happy.
I come now to a period in my life that I find difficult to comprehend even in retrospect. I've always assumed that I am by nature a faithful person. Hardly surprising really given what I’ve just relayed. Even so, I believe strongly in commitment and the value of a promise given and kept.
And yet I have been unfaithful. There are all sorts of things I could say about this but none of them are more relevant than my deep contrition and confusion over the way I behaved. I found I was capable of acting in a way I never dreamt possible.
I will not describe how this came about other than to say that I'd never experienced anything like the level of desire I felt in those moments with her. I won't deny it. In some ways I think this was partly due to the unreality of the situation. Drinking has that effect.
It was just so incredibly freeing to be close without being burdened by the anticipation of sensations I‘ve learned to dread. Having said that, this was two short lived episodes.
So … a few hours of delight weighed against nearly two decades of loving faithfulness. Which justifies nothing. I know that. It is impossible in the real world to undo what has been done.
Would I undo it though? Yes I would. In an instant.
It’s simple. I did the wrong thing, there is no doubt in my mind about that. I broke trust with my gentle man. I thought I was incapable of doing that. I acknowledge that I learnt something about myself even so. I'd long ago reconciled myself to the idea that I mightn't have the capacity to feel such intense physical desire at all.
But the cost has been higher than I could have imagined. Nearly two years have passed and still I’m trying to find a way past it. To tell my gentle man is not an option. Not only would it cause untold hurt but I think with our history it might break our relationship beyond repair.
Anyway, why should he suffer for my mistake? So if I can't or won't disclose this then I continue to break trust on one level in order to preserve it on another. This is my deepest regret of all.
We have always had major difficulties in our intimate life despite nearly two decades having passed in our lives together. My gentle man is often at a loss as to how to help matters and this serves only to heighten my sense of total inadequacy in this most personal aspect of our relationship.
There are times when my body seems unable to distinguish between what lies in my memory and the reality of what is happening now. Between danger and safety. It is so tangled up and confusing that I don’t know how to describe it really. Other than to say that because of this there are times when I feel unable to endure being touched at all.
Sometimes this happens when my gentle man is “well under way”. This is the most difficult part of all for me. Whilst I enjoy the closeness of the initial stages and build up towards intimacy, I do not enjoy the sensations of the act itself, the movement inside of me. My body sends out distress signals that I sometimes find impossible to ignore. I do try to though. There are occasions when these signals are of sufficient magnitude to bring things to a halt and other times not. I have neither the will nor the courage to be more graphic but I’m sure you get the gist.
We are both aware that most of the problems stem from within me and from the past. And yet I can’t help feeling that on those occasions when he decides not to respond to my distress by stopping he is in some ways reinforcing the violation perpetrated by the monster man from so long ago.
I know that it’s not fair on either of us that this shadow hangs over us still. And I know that it is grossly unfair to characterise my loving gentle man as in any way similar to the one who did the damage all those years ago.
I suggested that we get some help. As it turns out though, I am not the only intensely private person in this relationship. In many ways I was relieved because in this as in so many areas of my life, I lack courage.
So we have soldiered on through the years. We talk about it now and then, but not much. When we broach the subject the conversation is usually short as this is not something either of us finds easy to discuss. Despite this, over time things have improved somewhat to the extent that we both find some enjoyment these days. At least sometimes. We are mostly happy.
I come now to a period in my life that I find difficult to comprehend even in retrospect. I've always assumed that I am by nature a faithful person. Hardly surprising really given what I’ve just relayed. Even so, I believe strongly in commitment and the value of a promise given and kept.
And yet I have been unfaithful. There are all sorts of things I could say about this but none of them are more relevant than my deep contrition and confusion over the way I behaved. I found I was capable of acting in a way I never dreamt possible.
I will not describe how this came about other than to say that I'd never experienced anything like the level of desire I felt in those moments with her. I won't deny it. In some ways I think this was partly due to the unreality of the situation. Drinking has that effect.
It was just so incredibly freeing to be close without being burdened by the anticipation of sensations I‘ve learned to dread. Having said that, this was two short lived episodes.
So … a few hours of delight weighed against nearly two decades of loving faithfulness. Which justifies nothing. I know that. It is impossible in the real world to undo what has been done.
Would I undo it though? Yes I would. In an instant.
It’s simple. I did the wrong thing, there is no doubt in my mind about that. I broke trust with my gentle man. I thought I was incapable of doing that. I acknowledge that I learnt something about myself even so. I'd long ago reconciled myself to the idea that I mightn't have the capacity to feel such intense physical desire at all.
But the cost has been higher than I could have imagined. Nearly two years have passed and still I’m trying to find a way past it. To tell my gentle man is not an option. Not only would it cause untold hurt but I think with our history it might break our relationship beyond repair.
Anyway, why should he suffer for my mistake? So if I can't or won't disclose this then I continue to break trust on one level in order to preserve it on another. This is my deepest regret of all.
Not quite 20/20 vision.
It’s quite something when you come across symmetry where you least expect to find it.
Nearly twenty years passed between the comings and goings of the monster man present in my early childhood until the time that my gentle man first appeared. And nearly twenty years have passed from that day to this.
With the departure of the monster man and not coincidentally our father from our lives, childhood turned in turn into adolescence and then on into adulthood. Time moved on outwardly but something inside me remained trapped in the past.
To deal with the pain of that early trauma I tried many avenues. I tried faith and prayer. Faith is capricious though. Not unlike handfuls of sand the harder you grip the more it runs through your fingers. When you open your hands it’s gone, leaving only fine grains clinging on, the grit a reminder of those early aspirations to believe.
I tried smoking it out as if a colony of hornets had taken to nest building under the eves of my mind. The smoke billowed and blotted out the world, but it did not diminish the pain left in it’s wake. I tried pills and potions that had my mind whirling in every direction skewing my perceptions of reality and not. I tried submerging it under a lake of fire water to little effect beyond drowning myself in the process.
Building a virtual box of lead in my mind, I poured my memories into it, hoping that the radioactive waste would be sealed beneath the weight of this heavy mental metal. Then I built walls around it until wall building itself became a habit, a rite, crafting ever thicker layers to separate myself from the whirlwind within.
It was in this state that my gentle man found me. I can’t explain to you why it was that he persevered in the face of my determined resistance, but he did. Initially he lay siege in what might be described as the usual fashion, but to no avail. Quite some time passed but still he persisted.
Eventually he appealed for a truce and I walked out from behind the walls under the protection of a white flag. We talked long into the night and through the dawn of a new day. He whispered of the fears that lay in his heart and in turn I tried to explain some of the reasons for the walls I‘d built. I mentioned something of the dark taint that lay within. I can’t explain to you where I found the courage to do that.
This man of mine has the kindest eyes. They reflect something of the soul that lies within. With a wisdom I still find quite breath-taking he explained that whilst the monster man might have taken my innocence, he hadn’t taken me. The way he described his love for the person he saw in me was my undoing. And so it was that he became my gentle man.
In the real world there is no happily ever after. Even so we have built a life together. By making himself vulnerable to me, my gentle man shows a strength I’m not sure I will ever match. Fundamentally it is this willingness that underpins our relationship. Without it, I would always feel like the weaker one.
There are times when he is washed out into the sea of his own foreboding. Long periods when he is lost to me in all but name. Other times he shuts himself away behind his own walls. When this happens I carry a beacon onto the shore to light a path homewards. So far it has always worked in the end, although there have been times when I've despaired of his despair. In constancy I show my own kind of strength.
In a similar vein there have been periods when I too have retreated behind my old walls, falling prey to the need for self protection in uncertain times. I forget that real trust is built on an ever firmer foundation in times of trouble.
A while long ago I breached that trust in a way I never thought possible. I need not burden you with the whys and wherefores. Suffice to say that despite being crippled with self doubt on so many fronts I’d always believed that once I made a promise I would keep to it no matter what. It has been hard to learn to live with this failing. I would undo it if I could, but I will not disown my actions all the same. Contrition and sorrow have gradually eroded guilt. But still it remains.
Somehow over the years my gentle man and I have found ourselves taking up self destructive habits with an ever increasing frequency. For him this has largely been a matter of recreational relief from the stresses and strains of life. For me though, these habits are of a more compulsive and dangerous bent. They threaten to drive me back behind those walls of total isolation. I have much to lose and little to gain by such practices whatever their allure. In these last years in particular I have fallen under their spell more and more.
And so finally we have come full circle. In order to progress from here I must once again make myself vulnerable to my gentle man by telling him in a more forthright manner the sinister effect these habits have upon me. How they undermine my sense of myself. Ultimately this impacts us both, damages us both. I have already sought outside help, but now I must seek it within our relationship too. In this way trust is built. I know that.
You might think I show strength by such actions, but not really. You see despite the ups and downs of the last twenty years I have been learning to trust a small step at a time. How strange. It seems that I have found faith where I least expected to.
Nearly twenty years passed between the comings and goings of the monster man present in my early childhood until the time that my gentle man first appeared. And nearly twenty years have passed from that day to this.
With the departure of the monster man and not coincidentally our father from our lives, childhood turned in turn into adolescence and then on into adulthood. Time moved on outwardly but something inside me remained trapped in the past.
To deal with the pain of that early trauma I tried many avenues. I tried faith and prayer. Faith is capricious though. Not unlike handfuls of sand the harder you grip the more it runs through your fingers. When you open your hands it’s gone, leaving only fine grains clinging on, the grit a reminder of those early aspirations to believe.
I tried smoking it out as if a colony of hornets had taken to nest building under the eves of my mind. The smoke billowed and blotted out the world, but it did not diminish the pain left in it’s wake. I tried pills and potions that had my mind whirling in every direction skewing my perceptions of reality and not. I tried submerging it under a lake of fire water to little effect beyond drowning myself in the process.
Building a virtual box of lead in my mind, I poured my memories into it, hoping that the radioactive waste would be sealed beneath the weight of this heavy mental metal. Then I built walls around it until wall building itself became a habit, a rite, crafting ever thicker layers to separate myself from the whirlwind within.
It was in this state that my gentle man found me. I can’t explain to you why it was that he persevered in the face of my determined resistance, but he did. Initially he lay siege in what might be described as the usual fashion, but to no avail. Quite some time passed but still he persisted.
Eventually he appealed for a truce and I walked out from behind the walls under the protection of a white flag. We talked long into the night and through the dawn of a new day. He whispered of the fears that lay in his heart and in turn I tried to explain some of the reasons for the walls I‘d built. I mentioned something of the dark taint that lay within. I can’t explain to you where I found the courage to do that.
This man of mine has the kindest eyes. They reflect something of the soul that lies within. With a wisdom I still find quite breath-taking he explained that whilst the monster man might have taken my innocence, he hadn’t taken me. The way he described his love for the person he saw in me was my undoing. And so it was that he became my gentle man.
In the real world there is no happily ever after. Even so we have built a life together. By making himself vulnerable to me, my gentle man shows a strength I’m not sure I will ever match. Fundamentally it is this willingness that underpins our relationship. Without it, I would always feel like the weaker one.
There are times when he is washed out into the sea of his own foreboding. Long periods when he is lost to me in all but name. Other times he shuts himself away behind his own walls. When this happens I carry a beacon onto the shore to light a path homewards. So far it has always worked in the end, although there have been times when I've despaired of his despair. In constancy I show my own kind of strength.
In a similar vein there have been periods when I too have retreated behind my old walls, falling prey to the need for self protection in uncertain times. I forget that real trust is built on an ever firmer foundation in times of trouble.
A while long ago I breached that trust in a way I never thought possible. I need not burden you with the whys and wherefores. Suffice to say that despite being crippled with self doubt on so many fronts I’d always believed that once I made a promise I would keep to it no matter what. It has been hard to learn to live with this failing. I would undo it if I could, but I will not disown my actions all the same. Contrition and sorrow have gradually eroded guilt. But still it remains.
Somehow over the years my gentle man and I have found ourselves taking up self destructive habits with an ever increasing frequency. For him this has largely been a matter of recreational relief from the stresses and strains of life. For me though, these habits are of a more compulsive and dangerous bent. They threaten to drive me back behind those walls of total isolation. I have much to lose and little to gain by such practices whatever their allure. In these last years in particular I have fallen under their spell more and more.
And so finally we have come full circle. In order to progress from here I must once again make myself vulnerable to my gentle man by telling him in a more forthright manner the sinister effect these habits have upon me. How they undermine my sense of myself. Ultimately this impacts us both, damages us both. I have already sought outside help, but now I must seek it within our relationship too. In this way trust is built. I know that.
You might think I show strength by such actions, but not really. You see despite the ups and downs of the last twenty years I have been learning to trust a small step at a time. How strange. It seems that I have found faith where I least expected to.
Acceptance
I am an engineer. Not a particularly good or smart one, but one of quite long standing now. It doesn't completely define who I am obviously, but nevertheless it suits me. From an early age I loved to build and fix things, but most particularly I loved to take pretty much anything apart to see how it works. In the painful, chaotic and confusing environment of my childhood I found much comfort in the solidity and constancy of gadgets, construction toys and the domestic machines we had dotted around the place.
In my work there are days where I do nothing but carry out a repetitive sequence of relatively complex calculations to ensure that the parts we are planning to make will actually work. I love those days. I shut everything and everyone out for a while and lose myself in the numbers.
Calculating and manipulating the various formulae is kind of like playing with toy soldiers in a way. I arrange and re-arrange the numbers and symbols. I order them about. I line them up this way and that until a pattern emerges that looks stable. I know then that the design part concerned will withstand the working conditions in which it must function. Numbers consistently obey the rules just as machines are designed to. They are friendly in that way.
I know that probably sounds a bit odd. But the thing with numbers is that I know that as long as I'm careful ... if I can just work through each stage methodically in a focused manner and not miss anything off ... well then I can get it right.
I mean right right, not nearly or almost, but bang on perfect.
There are no other areas in my life where this is possible. But there is much in my inherent nature that wants it to be. I want to be able to figure everything out ... to shake all the variables out onto the table and then line them up and if necessary modify them so that they behave consistently ... or at least more consistently.
I find change and uncertainty frightening. Always have. Social stuff scares me stiff most of the time. Have I mentioned that I stammer? Also I blush like a small girl over the stupidest things. I go blotchy red and hot. There's often no cause that I can pinpoint other than the fact that I feel anxious a lot when I'm with people generally. I can't figure out why or how to stop it happening.
I hate being this way and yet at the same time I know it's chicken feed in the overall scheme of things. There are worse things than being a nervous wreck. But it stops me wanting to mix with people who don't already know me ... and sometimes even the ones that do. Close friendships are few, but they light my life all the same. They are deep and solid. I believe in them and I trust as much as I can. I am lucky in many ways, I know that. Through my friends I am learning to lighten up ... kind of.
I see people around me embracing change all the time, welcoming it for the excitement it brings. I wonder at their courage. I wonder at my lack of it. If I knock all the toy soldiers over they won't just get up and re-group by themselves.
I can't conjure. I can't change things to be the way I want them to be. But I can learn to accept things the way they are.
In my work there are days where I do nothing but carry out a repetitive sequence of relatively complex calculations to ensure that the parts we are planning to make will actually work. I love those days. I shut everything and everyone out for a while and lose myself in the numbers.
Calculating and manipulating the various formulae is kind of like playing with toy soldiers in a way. I arrange and re-arrange the numbers and symbols. I order them about. I line them up this way and that until a pattern emerges that looks stable. I know then that the design part concerned will withstand the working conditions in which it must function. Numbers consistently obey the rules just as machines are designed to. They are friendly in that way.
I know that probably sounds a bit odd. But the thing with numbers is that I know that as long as I'm careful ... if I can just work through each stage methodically in a focused manner and not miss anything off ... well then I can get it right.
I mean right right, not nearly or almost, but bang on perfect.
There are no other areas in my life where this is possible. But there is much in my inherent nature that wants it to be. I want to be able to figure everything out ... to shake all the variables out onto the table and then line them up and if necessary modify them so that they behave consistently ... or at least more consistently.
I find change and uncertainty frightening. Always have. Social stuff scares me stiff most of the time. Have I mentioned that I stammer? Also I blush like a small girl over the stupidest things. I go blotchy red and hot. There's often no cause that I can pinpoint other than the fact that I feel anxious a lot when I'm with people generally. I can't figure out why or how to stop it happening.
I hate being this way and yet at the same time I know it's chicken feed in the overall scheme of things. There are worse things than being a nervous wreck. But it stops me wanting to mix with people who don't already know me ... and sometimes even the ones that do. Close friendships are few, but they light my life all the same. They are deep and solid. I believe in them and I trust as much as I can. I am lucky in many ways, I know that. Through my friends I am learning to lighten up ... kind of.
I see people around me embracing change all the time, welcoming it for the excitement it brings. I wonder at their courage. I wonder at my lack of it. If I knock all the toy soldiers over they won't just get up and re-group by themselves.
I can't conjure. I can't change things to be the way I want them to be. But I can learn to accept things the way they are.
Hope is like that
My younger sister has always been frightened of things. Nothing in any way unusual, just the normal childhood fears. Thunder, lightning, fireworks, wasps, spiders, creepy crawlies in general and snakes. As she's grown the list has lengthened to include heights and anything that might endanger her children. She is still the bravest person I've ever known, a fierce lioness in the protection of her cubs, but with the gentlest of natures in loving and nurturing them.
When we were small Kath really hated thunder storms, and the flash of lightning in particular. For some reason nearly all of my childhood memories of these storms are of the ones that happened at night time. Perhaps that's because at the first sign of distant rumbling she would scoot across our bedroom and crawl under the blankets with me. I would then turn on my little torch flashlight for her to see. Already frightened by storm sounds the dark spooked her, so we'd hunker down and watch the bulb fiz and crackle in the night. Small low voltage light bulbs did that sort of thing back then.
Anyway, I would wait until I thought she'd dropped off to sleep before turning off the torch to save the batteries. Sometimes the click would re-awaken her because on some level she was attuned to this noise despite the background of crashes and rumbles. So I'd switch it back on, and wait her out again. However dim the remaining light was as the battery faded that little light never failed to bring some measure of comfort to her. I like to think my presence helped a bit as well though.
It's funny though isn't it? What light does in the darkness I mean. Even the tiniest candle flame can be seen in the night from miles away in clear conditions. Such is the power of light against the immensity of even the deepest darkness. In fact it is this contrast that makes light such a beacon in the gloom. Little wonder then that light is synonymous with hope. Where faith might falter or even fail, some small element of hope remains.
Earlier today I was writing to a dear friend of mine. Someone who keeps reminding me of the steadfastness of hope and friendship in hard times. I was trying to find some way of conveying to her where I am just now, which is in a far better place than even a few days ago. I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's there ... and while it might still be some miles off, it's there. Hope is like that.
When we were small Kath really hated thunder storms, and the flash of lightning in particular. For some reason nearly all of my childhood memories of these storms are of the ones that happened at night time. Perhaps that's because at the first sign of distant rumbling she would scoot across our bedroom and crawl under the blankets with me. I would then turn on my little torch flashlight for her to see. Already frightened by storm sounds the dark spooked her, so we'd hunker down and watch the bulb fiz and crackle in the night. Small low voltage light bulbs did that sort of thing back then.
Anyway, I would wait until I thought she'd dropped off to sleep before turning off the torch to save the batteries. Sometimes the click would re-awaken her because on some level she was attuned to this noise despite the background of crashes and rumbles. So I'd switch it back on, and wait her out again. However dim the remaining light was as the battery faded that little light never failed to bring some measure of comfort to her. I like to think my presence helped a bit as well though.
It's funny though isn't it? What light does in the darkness I mean. Even the tiniest candle flame can be seen in the night from miles away in clear conditions. Such is the power of light against the immensity of even the deepest darkness. In fact it is this contrast that makes light such a beacon in the gloom. Little wonder then that light is synonymous with hope. Where faith might falter or even fail, some small element of hope remains.
Earlier today I was writing to a dear friend of mine. Someone who keeps reminding me of the steadfastness of hope and friendship in hard times. I was trying to find some way of conveying to her where I am just now, which is in a far better place than even a few days ago. I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's there ... and while it might still be some miles off, it's there. Hope is like that.
Learning to let go
History itself is irreversible it's true
no I mean it's really really true
beyond dispute or the power of wishing
even if you yearn with your entire being
the past remains resolutely unalterable
Remember it or not
it matters not a jot
So then it's not a matter of undoing
or re-hashing it over and over again
it is over, to be filed away in the archive
the only thing that can change now
is how we choose to think of it
For some reason I've always thought
that true healing meant undoing
and re-making over again but whole
because I wished it so, so much
I wanted the done to be undone
I didn't want a papering over of the cracks
I wanted the cracks to be mended
the parts fused without scar tissue
I wanted it to look better than this
smoother, cleaner, more complete
Clinging on to impossible wishes
only serves to encourage us to shelter
from the truth on all sorts of fronts
we indulge in our hopeless fantasies
rather than engage in the reality of living
But life refuses to lay down passively
beneath the insubstantial blanket we fashion
to insulate ourselves from the cold winds
of a reality we're unwilling to face
instead it continually rises up to confront us
And in doing so we turn to rail against it
this injustice of not getting our hearts desire
feeds into the general frustration within us
calling from inside us in increasingly strident tones
this is not right, this is not how it should be
But the fact of the matter is, that it just is
and whether that be right or wrong is immaterial
for when what is now is caused by what was then
then transformation to what should have been is impossible
and so learning to let go starts with accepting what is
to be continued ...
no I mean it's really really true
beyond dispute or the power of wishing
even if you yearn with your entire being
the past remains resolutely unalterable
Remember it or not
it matters not a jot
So then it's not a matter of undoing
or re-hashing it over and over again
it is over, to be filed away in the archive
the only thing that can change now
is how we choose to think of it
For some reason I've always thought
that true healing meant undoing
and re-making over again but whole
because I wished it so, so much
I wanted the done to be undone
I didn't want a papering over of the cracks
I wanted the cracks to be mended
the parts fused without scar tissue
I wanted it to look better than this
smoother, cleaner, more complete
Clinging on to impossible wishes
only serves to encourage us to shelter
from the truth on all sorts of fronts
we indulge in our hopeless fantasies
rather than engage in the reality of living
But life refuses to lay down passively
beneath the insubstantial blanket we fashion
to insulate ourselves from the cold winds
of a reality we're unwilling to face
instead it continually rises up to confront us
And in doing so we turn to rail against it
this injustice of not getting our hearts desire
feeds into the general frustration within us
calling from inside us in increasingly strident tones
this is not right, this is not how it should be
But the fact of the matter is, that it just is
and whether that be right or wrong is immaterial
for when what is now is caused by what was then
then transformation to what should have been is impossible
and so learning to let go starts with accepting what is
to be continued ...
The sky is not falling in ...
I love the story of Chicken Licken (sometimes called Chicken Little). At the beginning of the story an acorn falls on her head. She looks up and all she can see is the sky. Now being a somewhat scientifically minded, and literal rather than lateral thinking kind of chicken, Licken concludes that the sky is falling in. So she sets off to warn the king.
It's so tempting to hide behind verse. One of the reasons I started writing verse in the first place is because there are so many things I am not brave enough to talk about. So instead I say it in a roundabout fashion. But not today.
I guess Licken decided the sky was falling in because she couldn't think of any other explanation for the knock to her head. She'd looked upwards, but not down or around. She just didn't gather enough evidence to adequately support her hypothesis.
Even so, you have to give Licken some credit here ... despite her mistaken conclusions she did at least act in good faith. I have every sympathy because I too suffer from a similar kind of blinkered vision. Even so, like Licken I act in good faith most of the time despite my many regrets and mistakes.
I am humbled by the loving support and kindness you have shown towards me, particularly over the last few weeks. I am getting help. There are better ways to deal with emotional pain than drowning it out. The nature of addiction is that there are often many false dawns before the reality of a true sunrise ocurrs. However harsh the sun seems, I am determined to walk in the light.
I am not sure how my blog will evolve from this point. It may become part journal part verse, I'm not sure yet. I'm so sorry not to have been popping by to visit you all with anything like the frequency I'd like over the last little while. I will make more of an effort over the next few weeks.
xx Jos
It's so tempting to hide behind verse. One of the reasons I started writing verse in the first place is because there are so many things I am not brave enough to talk about. So instead I say it in a roundabout fashion. But not today.
I guess Licken decided the sky was falling in because she couldn't think of any other explanation for the knock to her head. She'd looked upwards, but not down or around. She just didn't gather enough evidence to adequately support her hypothesis.
Even so, you have to give Licken some credit here ... despite her mistaken conclusions she did at least act in good faith. I have every sympathy because I too suffer from a similar kind of blinkered vision. Even so, like Licken I act in good faith most of the time despite my many regrets and mistakes.
I am humbled by the loving support and kindness you have shown towards me, particularly over the last few weeks. I am getting help. There are better ways to deal with emotional pain than drowning it out. The nature of addiction is that there are often many false dawns before the reality of a true sunrise ocurrs. However harsh the sun seems, I am determined to walk in the light.
I am not sure how my blog will evolve from this point. It may become part journal part verse, I'm not sure yet. I'm so sorry not to have been popping by to visit you all with anything like the frequency I'd like over the last little while. I will make more of an effort over the next few weeks.
xx Jos
There is always room for truth
You can’t possibly be more ashamed of me
Than I am shamed by my own behaviour
You might ask why do you do this to yourself
And I answer that there’s no why in addiction
Addiction sneaks in the back door
It accumulates in the dark corners
Soothing the burdened soul
With it’s liquid smoothness
Taking the sharp corners from life
Slowly building it’s foundations
Becoming something from nothing
Feeding upon itself gradually taking hold
Unknowingly I let it
I fed it
Then it devoured me
Until I couldn’t see
Another way to be
But don’t feel sorry
Please
I need no pity
I did this to myself
I will fight my way
Out
Than I am shamed by my own behaviour
You might ask why do you do this to yourself
And I answer that there’s no why in addiction
Addiction sneaks in the back door
It accumulates in the dark corners
Soothing the burdened soul
With it’s liquid smoothness
Taking the sharp corners from life
Slowly building it’s foundations
Becoming something from nothing
Feeding upon itself gradually taking hold
Unknowingly I let it
I fed it
Then it devoured me
Until I couldn’t see
Another way to be
But don’t feel sorry
Please
I need no pity
I did this to myself
I will fight my way
Out
Houston we have a problem
I am sure it is apparent from the last few posts that I have a problem. It would be so tempting to tell you that I am in recovery but the truth is that my recovery journey of late has involved mostly prolonged "detours". These leave me feeling confused, depleted and cast out from the person I aspire to be. So I am going to take an extended blogging break to take some time out in order to get straight again. xx Jos
Adult ... kind of
I knew I should never become a mother
because I am the daughter of a woman
who should never have become a mother
and I am also the daughter of a man
who should never have become a father
There are too many flaws in my family
and the long and short of it is that
these two should never have had children
because having them they abandoned them
whilst appearing not to do so at all
And so we grew up ... except we didn't
we grew on the outside but not really
we aged which is not the same thing
how do you grow a child to maturity
when she is stuck in the pain of the past
because I am the daughter of a woman
who should never have become a mother
and I am also the daughter of a man
who should never have become a father
There are too many flaws in my family
and the long and short of it is that
these two should never have had children
because having them they abandoned them
whilst appearing not to do so at all
And so we grew up ... except we didn't
we grew on the outside but not really
we aged which is not the same thing
how do you grow a child to maturity
when she is stuck in the pain of the past
A strange land
What do you do when the person reflected in the mirror is a stranger
when the internal dialogue within you becomes incomprehensible
so that what you once trusted is whisked out from under your feet
leaving you sinking ever deeper into the quicksand of incomprehension
What do you do when your reality seeps into some form of unreality
diminishing you in such a fundamental way that you are no longer sure
that you have the knowledge or ability to distinguish between the two
is this at long last the line that lies between sanity and something other
How long can you walk along a narrow ledge without falling off
if you only know and accept the things that lie above or on the surface
how can you ever hope to slow your descent into what lies below it
what measures can you take to ensure a soft landing at the bottom.
when the internal dialogue within you becomes incomprehensible
so that what you once trusted is whisked out from under your feet
leaving you sinking ever deeper into the quicksand of incomprehension
What do you do when your reality seeps into some form of unreality
diminishing you in such a fundamental way that you are no longer sure
that you have the knowledge or ability to distinguish between the two
is this at long last the line that lies between sanity and something other
How long can you walk along a narrow ledge without falling off
if you only know and accept the things that lie above or on the surface
how can you ever hope to slow your descent into what lies below it
what measures can you take to ensure a soft landing at the bottom.
Writing
I will write and write
until the pain lessens
like in the olden days
when we were bled
to remove the toxins
I will cut into myself
to remove the flaws
until I am nothing more
than I was before
until the pain lessens
like in the olden days
when we were bled
to remove the toxins
I will cut into myself
to remove the flaws
until I am nothing more
than I was before
Exposed
I stand shivering under your gaze
as exposed as ever I have been
these flaws run so deep
deeper than I knew
or rather
than I allowed myself to see
I wish some days
I could be restored
to my former blindness
as exposed as ever I have been
these flaws run so deep
deeper than I knew
or rather
than I allowed myself to see
I wish some days
I could be restored
to my former blindness
Shuttered
Why do you ask a blind woman to look at it this way
can you not see the unfocused look of her eye
why do you ask the deaf woman to hear you out
when listening is the last things she's capable of doing
to awaken deadened senses is next to impossible
Why do you look for understanding from a statue
is she not as immobile in thought as in deed
where a human heart might beat out it's feelings
hers is but a silent pump, although not inert
hers is a far more sinister form of stillness
can you not see the unfocused look of her eye
why do you ask the deaf woman to hear you out
when listening is the last things she's capable of doing
to awaken deadened senses is next to impossible
Why do you look for understanding from a statue
is she not as immobile in thought as in deed
where a human heart might beat out it's feelings
hers is but a silent pump, although not inert
hers is a far more sinister form of stillness
Change
There are reasons why
but unraveling them is not easy
hard to face the harsh realities
to see what it is, to look at it square on
to accept that this is mine
as are the results
If at the root of a lie lies no harm
but unforeseen unintended hurt
is it any more excusable
no
is it any more acceptable
no
is it any more forgivable
perhaps
A child might use fantasy
truth and untruth woven together
as a defense against the indefensible
but would expect to grow out of it
not cling to and repeat this old pattern
once it's reason has long since ceased
Except accepting untruth repeatedly
creates an ability to detach
to put the unacceptable into a box
like turning a mental blind eye
so lies remain hidden but known
and duality thus becomes the norm
With sufficient time detachment
becomes the ability to ignore
those neglected internal voices
that gradually dwindle to a whisper
the smallest twinge of conscience
dissonance just faintly knocking
But we confront this duality at our peril
unless we've also learnt acceptance
not necessarily of specific acts of untruth
right and wrong remain unchanged
but of the person trying to change
hoping still for some redemption
Some hope
but unraveling them is not easy
hard to face the harsh realities
to see what it is, to look at it square on
to accept that this is mine
as are the results
If at the root of a lie lies no harm
but unforeseen unintended hurt
is it any more excusable
no
is it any more acceptable
no
is it any more forgivable
perhaps
A child might use fantasy
truth and untruth woven together
as a defense against the indefensible
but would expect to grow out of it
not cling to and repeat this old pattern
once it's reason has long since ceased
Except accepting untruth repeatedly
creates an ability to detach
to put the unacceptable into a box
like turning a mental blind eye
so lies remain hidden but known
and duality thus becomes the norm
With sufficient time detachment
becomes the ability to ignore
those neglected internal voices
that gradually dwindle to a whisper
the smallest twinge of conscience
dissonance just faintly knocking
But we confront this duality at our peril
unless we've also learnt acceptance
not necessarily of specific acts of untruth
right and wrong remain unchanged
but of the person trying to change
hoping still for some redemption
Some hope
Lies
A lie, just one to start with
but lies escalate and accumulate
ultimately taking their revenge
causing this unintended hurt
I never meant it to be this way
regret isn't a strong enough word
sorry doesn't come close either
if I tell you that I hate me too
will it ease your heart a little?
but lies escalate and accumulate
ultimately taking their revenge
causing this unintended hurt
I never meant it to be this way
regret isn't a strong enough word
sorry doesn't come close either
if I tell you that I hate me too
will it ease your heart a little?
No verse today.
Just wanted to tell you about something that happened earlier on. I was driving over to my sisters place to help out with the boys for a few hours. It's been a sunny day so typical of late summer here in England. I was driving through a nearby village caught up in a queue behind a slow moving tractor. In no great rush I was quite happy to crawl along. Up ahead I saw two young girls sitting by the curb waving at the passing cars. Nothing better to do than brighten up other peoples day I guess. Eventually it came to my turn and of course I smiled merrily waving back. Got an extra wide smile and a thumbs up in return from one of the little girls.
Then it dawned on me. The other drivers hadn't bothered to wave ... or smile ... or wave and smile ... or wave and smile and actually mean it. My reward of a thumbs up was both a cause of happiness and small sadness. As grown ups we have a lot to think about. Kids don't get that. They shouldn't have to. It's partly what's supposed to be great about childhood. Anyway, I'm glad I waved and smiled and meant it. And I'm glad that kids still have time to wave at passing cars.
Does this seem frivolous? Maybe it is. Life is pretty tough going at the moment and so smiles are an extra special gift. At least so it seems to me. xx Jos
Just wanted to tell you about something that happened earlier on. I was driving over to my sisters place to help out with the boys for a few hours. It's been a sunny day so typical of late summer here in England. I was driving through a nearby village caught up in a queue behind a slow moving tractor. In no great rush I was quite happy to crawl along. Up ahead I saw two young girls sitting by the curb waving at the passing cars. Nothing better to do than brighten up other peoples day I guess. Eventually it came to my turn and of course I smiled merrily waving back. Got an extra wide smile and a thumbs up in return from one of the little girls.
Then it dawned on me. The other drivers hadn't bothered to wave ... or smile ... or wave and smile ... or wave and smile and actually mean it. My reward of a thumbs up was both a cause of happiness and small sadness. As grown ups we have a lot to think about. Kids don't get that. They shouldn't have to. It's partly what's supposed to be great about childhood. Anyway, I'm glad I waved and smiled and meant it. And I'm glad that kids still have time to wave at passing cars.
Does this seem frivolous? Maybe it is. Life is pretty tough going at the moment and so smiles are an extra special gift. At least so it seems to me. xx Jos
A piece of my heart
I never knew that paintings
could speak so to my heart
until the day I saw yours
and instead of looking away
something made me pause
so I stopped to look again
and a little door opened
in the corner of my mind
I walked through and found
myself seeing something new
a vista of such celebration
a party conveyed by a brush
and how I laughed to see it
seeing that some hearts speak
in shape and colour and texture
and some listen with eyes alone
I was drawn in, in a way
that I'd never known before
and so I said so, well no
I didn't actually say so
being the klutz bunny I am
I tried to say so though
and well, wouldn't you know
your open heart heard mine
By some happy circumstance
I was in a position to say
something I never usually do
I said would you, could you
and here's where your heart
listened particularly carefully
because you didn't just say yes
you painted me my 'orange pop'
I have positioned it here
and I've tried it over there
I've even taken it upstairs
but somehow it calls to me
saying I need the dark wood
to lay against to make me glow
I bet that even you didn't know
you'd sent me a piece of my heart.
An Annie Coe original defies words
no really, just take another look
and to see more go here
Dancing with the devil you know
Unreality beckons, whispering in my ear
not so sweet somethings saying lose yourself
in the familiar folds of blissful oblivion
nothing hurts when we drift in the ether
and then everything does afterwards
so then don't think of afterwards
or of consequences, only of release
a chance to lay again and to lie again
rehash our fantasies, detach from reality
And then?
what then?
When we succumb, we alter without and within
losing hard won ground in this ongoing battle
between ourselves and the people
we aspire to be except on those days
when we want nothing more than to be a breath of wind
utterly inconsequential even within our own lives
thus we excuse ourselves from the hurt we cause
when we pause to listen to the malevolent whispers
of unwelcome unwanted visitors from our past
Oh but how they crow, they point and laugh
you see they know, and knowing has it's price
they say pay the piper or lose your soul
and only then might we let you go
but then the dance begins amidst the confusion
as colours brighten and noise levels heighten
unreality takes a hold as sad laughter bubbles up
as if to escape, and as it does you might notice
that it sounds painfully like the cries of hysteria
and then?
what then?
Well you see then you have the aftermath
the resounding impact of the almighty crash
as reality slams through our semi consciousness
realisation dawning, squinting against the light
of a day when all that matters is getting through
until the hour when the doors of the dance hall
re-open to the possessed and dis-possessed alike
because once dance fever re-takes it's hold
it takes the devils own strength to escape it
but only
if you dance
After all the dance hall never closes it doors
we delude ourselves that waiting is in fact control
when our delay is only in anticipation of the music
whereas choosing is but a turning point away
a re-creation of our lives devoid of this tomfoolery
learning instead the rhythms of new songs
ones that nourish once forsaken hearts and souls
and although I know all this there are still dark days
when I find my foot tapping to the old rhythm.
not so sweet somethings saying lose yourself
in the familiar folds of blissful oblivion
nothing hurts when we drift in the ether
and then everything does afterwards
so then don't think of afterwards
or of consequences, only of release
a chance to lay again and to lie again
rehash our fantasies, detach from reality
And then?
what then?
When we succumb, we alter without and within
losing hard won ground in this ongoing battle
between ourselves and the people
we aspire to be except on those days
when we want nothing more than to be a breath of wind
utterly inconsequential even within our own lives
thus we excuse ourselves from the hurt we cause
when we pause to listen to the malevolent whispers
of unwelcome unwanted visitors from our past
Oh but how they crow, they point and laugh
you see they know, and knowing has it's price
they say pay the piper or lose your soul
and only then might we let you go
but then the dance begins amidst the confusion
as colours brighten and noise levels heighten
unreality takes a hold as sad laughter bubbles up
as if to escape, and as it does you might notice
that it sounds painfully like the cries of hysteria
and then?
what then?
Well you see then you have the aftermath
the resounding impact of the almighty crash
as reality slams through our semi consciousness
realisation dawning, squinting against the light
of a day when all that matters is getting through
until the hour when the doors of the dance hall
re-open to the possessed and dis-possessed alike
because once dance fever re-takes it's hold
it takes the devils own strength to escape it
but only
if you dance
After all the dance hall never closes it doors
we delude ourselves that waiting is in fact control
when our delay is only in anticipation of the music
whereas choosing is but a turning point away
a re-creation of our lives devoid of this tomfoolery
learning instead the rhythms of new songs
ones that nourish once forsaken hearts and souls
and although I know all this there are still dark days
when I find my foot tapping to the old rhythm.
From this place
Sometimes tears fall
and the heart eases
but not always
there are landscapes
arid desserts within
that remain barren
and from this place
it seems that even
words run dry
not for always
just for now
or so I hope anyway
and the heart eases
but not always
there are landscapes
arid desserts within
that remain barren
and from this place
it seems that even
words run dry
not for always
just for now
or so I hope anyway
A Week Off
What did I learn?
that putting up a tent
in a howling gale
is more fun
than taking it down
That a leaking tent
can only leak so much
and so clothes
can only get so damp
and still be worn
That when you think
about it clearly
no one is really looking
as you strip off
layers on the beach
That getting into
a soaking wet wetsuit
makes for a lot of fun
for pretty much everyone
as I collapse in giggles
But also that wetsuits
are the perfect gear
for lying on the ground
and letting the rain
pour over your face
That nothing tastes
better than hot chocolate
and barbequed sausages
in onion bread rolls
with no salad, just sauce
That it's exhausting work
trying to turn cartwheels
in the sand
attempting to match
what small boys do
That a week is too short
I am home now
safe and sound
warm and dry at last
and satisfyingly tired.
that putting up a tent
in a howling gale
is more fun
than taking it down
That a leaking tent
can only leak so much
and so clothes
can only get so damp
and still be worn
That when you think
about it clearly
no one is really looking
as you strip off
layers on the beach
That getting into
a soaking wet wetsuit
makes for a lot of fun
for pretty much everyone
as I collapse in giggles
But also that wetsuits
are the perfect gear
for lying on the ground
and letting the rain
pour over your face
That nothing tastes
better than hot chocolate
and barbequed sausages
in onion bread rolls
with no salad, just sauce
That it's exhausting work
trying to turn cartwheels
in the sand
attempting to match
what small boys do
That a week is too short
I am home now
safe and sound
warm and dry at last
and satisfyingly tired.
A Moleskine
How many people do you know
where just by seeing their name
written at the top of an envelope
makes you break into a wide smile
or who write about getting excited
at the nifty pocket inside a moleskine
sent as a prize for sharing a thought
How many people do you know
that invite you to play with a rabbit
who in bunny ways is very wise
and yet is constantly getting in trouble
to the point of incarceration no less
well now I suspect not that many
people will lay claim to such fame
And yet I know many of you reading
will already be pretty well acquainted
with this uniquely special someone
keeper of Emily the Adventure-ess
who knows the value of many things
not least crying from your belly
and rolling downhill while laughing
I did nothing to deserve a moleskine
this very epitome of writers’ chic
yet here it is arrived safe and sound
opened and already starting to fill
because courage sometimes falters
at the sight of pristine empty pages
enjoyment comes in the use of a gift
Enjoyment comes in acceptance too
as freely bestowed gifts are a rich prize
and I believe that giving honours the giver
as well as the given to
what you sent meant more to me
than I have been able to convey
except to say heartfelt thanks to you KJ
... and hurray! (I know, but I had to!) xx Jos
where just by seeing their name
written at the top of an envelope
makes you break into a wide smile
or who write about getting excited
at the nifty pocket inside a moleskine
sent as a prize for sharing a thought
How many people do you know
that invite you to play with a rabbit
who in bunny ways is very wise
and yet is constantly getting in trouble
to the point of incarceration no less
well now I suspect not that many
people will lay claim to such fame
And yet I know many of you reading
will already be pretty well acquainted
with this uniquely special someone
keeper of Emily the Adventure-ess
who knows the value of many things
not least crying from your belly
and rolling downhill while laughing
I did nothing to deserve a moleskine
this very epitome of writers’ chic
yet here it is arrived safe and sound
opened and already starting to fill
because courage sometimes falters
at the sight of pristine empty pages
enjoyment comes in the use of a gift
Enjoyment comes in acceptance too
as freely bestowed gifts are a rich prize
and I believe that giving honours the giver
as well as the given to
what you sent meant more to me
than I have been able to convey
except to say heartfelt thanks to you KJ
... and hurray! (I know, but I had to!) xx Jos
A childhood friend
How wonderfully strange to be with you today
although thirty five years have passed us by
since we as two and three girls sat alongside
and walked any kind of sandy beach together
a lifetime by pretty much anyones' measure
and yet here you are, still looking as you do
Somehow familiar in that comfortable way
of children who've grown up through hard times
and so know the value of good times together
and that tears on arrival are a welcome home
I loved that you were moved by our meeting
and pretty much everything about today too
In particular when we wandered to be alone
shell hunting again after all these years
feeling the tug of memories long since lost
except so vivid still in your recollections
lovingly relayed with waving arms and words
ah now that is something I do remember
How you continually express what goes on inside
drawing pictures in my mind with your words
you still do that, I'm amazed we sill connect
it seems you are so, so very smart these days
using words I have only the vaguest notion of
and yet ... well there it is, you are still you
This incredible woman, yet with a clear sense
that somehow you are not nearly enough
that you must even now still measure up
to some ideal, some meaningless standard
I wish I knew you more fully in this time
translating my past admiration to the present
What can I tell you that you don't already know
we were children the last time we sat together
on the kerb kicking against things not wanted
even then I remember the way you looked to the sky
the way you drew vivid pictures with your words
and now you do the same thing with your pen
I wish,
god how I wish,
that I could express
this better
you
you mean something to me
I remember
you
I try not to remember
so many things
but
that does not include you.
although thirty five years have passed us by
since we as two and three girls sat alongside
and walked any kind of sandy beach together
a lifetime by pretty much anyones' measure
and yet here you are, still looking as you do
Somehow familiar in that comfortable way
of children who've grown up through hard times
and so know the value of good times together
and that tears on arrival are a welcome home
I loved that you were moved by our meeting
and pretty much everything about today too
In particular when we wandered to be alone
shell hunting again after all these years
feeling the tug of memories long since lost
except so vivid still in your recollections
lovingly relayed with waving arms and words
ah now that is something I do remember
How you continually express what goes on inside
drawing pictures in my mind with your words
you still do that, I'm amazed we sill connect
it seems you are so, so very smart these days
using words I have only the vaguest notion of
and yet ... well there it is, you are still you
This incredible woman, yet with a clear sense
that somehow you are not nearly enough
that you must even now still measure up
to some ideal, some meaningless standard
I wish I knew you more fully in this time
translating my past admiration to the present
What can I tell you that you don't already know
we were children the last time we sat together
on the kerb kicking against things not wanted
even then I remember the way you looked to the sky
the way you drew vivid pictures with your words
and now you do the same thing with your pen
I wish,
god how I wish,
that I could express
this better
you
you mean something to me
I remember
you
I try not to remember
so many things
but
that does not include you.
Journeying Back to Day One
The light fell into her eyes
so instead she looked downwards
and when music filled her ears
she blocked them off from hearing
even as tastes filled her mouth
she swallowed as if it were bile
As loving hands reached out
she turned her back and shut the door
then she drew the curtains
and in the shade she poured herself
from there into oblivion and beyond
seeking only to wash it all away
And some time passed this way
as her reality faded into grey
replaced by vivid colours of fantasy
each dancing in their crazed delight
across that dim and foggy screen
of her barely semi consciousness
The sands of time continued to flow
until one day in an uncertain dawn
came a flickering faltering realisation
of too much time having been spent
wandering in that inner wilderness
those wastelands of her imagination
And so finally she drew open the veil
poured the last of her fantasy fuel
down the drain of things past
and walked out into her garden
to find that in reality the sunlight
didn't hurt her eyes after all
so instead she looked downwards
and when music filled her ears
she blocked them off from hearing
even as tastes filled her mouth
she swallowed as if it were bile
As loving hands reached out
she turned her back and shut the door
then she drew the curtains
and in the shade she poured herself
from there into oblivion and beyond
seeking only to wash it all away
And some time passed this way
as her reality faded into grey
replaced by vivid colours of fantasy
each dancing in their crazed delight
across that dim and foggy screen
of her barely semi consciousness
The sands of time continued to flow
until one day in an uncertain dawn
came a flickering faltering realisation
of too much time having been spent
wandering in that inner wilderness
those wastelands of her imagination
And so finally she drew open the veil
poured the last of her fantasy fuel
down the drain of things past
and walked out into her garden
to find that in reality the sunlight
didn't hurt her eyes after all
A new arrival.
I had to bust through my self-imposed holiday haitus ...
for this ...
It seems that I am now a great-auntie
OK I am already a great auntie
but that is not the same thing at all
Ah ... c'mon ... look at her face
isn't she just beautiful?
lovely Dylan Rose
welcome to our world
already I love you
xx Jos
for this ...
It seems that I am now a great-auntie
OK I am already a great auntie
but that is not the same thing at all
Ah ... c'mon ... look at her face
isn't she just beautiful?
lovely Dylan Rose
welcome to our world
already I love you
xx Jos
This guilt
I have almost become someone
I don't recognise at all
do you know this feeling?
a kind of internal dis-location
incongruence, or so I'm told
everything, however complicated
seems to have this
a long word to describe it
But I describe it as this
I look the same, or near-abouts
grey and wrinkles notwithstanding
the person I see in the mirror
is at least somewhat familiar
I sound pretty similar to always
but something inside is not the same
a disintegration is continuing
Not solely physical, that is just aging
a process that I have long since
quite happily reconciled myself to
there is beauty in my mothers face
the future is written clearly there
would that I might one day
show such elegance and grace
seeing her in me, repeating our history
No this disintegration is self induced
looking back I can pinpoint it's start
that day when I decided on a fiction
and to tell that fiction to another
and then to tell yet another after that
until the teetering pile was so vast
I very nearly lost sight of the facts
having given myself over to the unreality
Here I am once again brought up short
oh my word, what to do ... and can I undo?
and how much of this can I undo
without undoing you too, or indeed us
this is not the first time I've been here
trying to untangle this mess I’ve made
saying without actually having to say
or ever even admiting to anything at all.
I don't recognise at all
do you know this feeling?
a kind of internal dis-location
incongruence, or so I'm told
everything, however complicated
seems to have this
a long word to describe it
But I describe it as this
I look the same, or near-abouts
grey and wrinkles notwithstanding
the person I see in the mirror
is at least somewhat familiar
I sound pretty similar to always
but something inside is not the same
a disintegration is continuing
Not solely physical, that is just aging
a process that I have long since
quite happily reconciled myself to
there is beauty in my mothers face
the future is written clearly there
would that I might one day
show such elegance and grace
seeing her in me, repeating our history
No this disintegration is self induced
looking back I can pinpoint it's start
that day when I decided on a fiction
and to tell that fiction to another
and then to tell yet another after that
until the teetering pile was so vast
I very nearly lost sight of the facts
having given myself over to the unreality
Here I am once again brought up short
oh my word, what to do ... and can I undo?
and how much of this can I undo
without undoing you too, or indeed us
this is not the first time I've been here
trying to untangle this mess I’ve made
saying without actually having to say
or ever even admiting to anything at all.
Schnorchel
And I have favourite words too
bumble-bee and bubble are my top two
and now this new one
I came across the other day
you never know when you will
stumble upon unexpected treasure
I am learning German
just a little bit
hopefully enough to help things along
between my sister and her husband
who has no-one to converse with
in the language of his youth
and so I try
anyway
it is this word
schnorchel
no
not snorkel
but schnorchel
try it out
I will henceforth
go forth
in my fins
and schnorchel
the word
schnorchelling
has me
chortling
are you smiling yet?
some words have power
it is easy to think
only in terms of
words that move you
to tears
to painful recollection
to empathy
but here
well
schnorchel
does not move me
perhaps though
there is a particular power
in smiley words.
bumble-bee and bubble are my top two
and now this new one
I came across the other day
you never know when you will
stumble upon unexpected treasure
I am learning German
just a little bit
hopefully enough to help things along
between my sister and her husband
who has no-one to converse with
in the language of his youth
and so I try
anyway
it is this word
schnorchel
no
not snorkel
but schnorchel
try it out
I will henceforth
go forth
in my fins
and schnorchel
the word
schnorchelling
has me
chortling
are you smiling yet?
some words have power
it is easy to think
only in terms of
words that move you
to tears
to painful recollection
to empathy
but here
well
schnorchel
does not move me
perhaps though
there is a particular power
in smiley words.
An Orange Girl
I have so many favourite things
like I love lemon meringue pie
have done ever since I can remember
it marks the close of my birthday each year
with it's fizzy popping sweet and sourness
white swirls and sparkling peaks above
and soft wobbly lemon wonder below
it is the queen of all the desserts to me
And I just love the colour orange
ever since the moment as a young girl
that I was told that it is a colour
but it is also a thing
so you can hold it
touch it
smell it
taste it
be splashed by it
how many colours can you do that with
come on now ...
that is seriously cool
in fact way cool :)
You can never be sure
how a series of events will unfold
and so when you asked me
about my colour preference
I had to own up to this
this childlike love of orange
which persists even to this day
and I know it hardly goes with anything
so I put it with everything
because it makes me smile
I got a package the other day
unfamiliar writing outside
but addressed to me
and on opening
there
orange tissue paper
layer upon layer
of orangeness
and underneath
more paper
and more anticipation
then underneath again
ah now
how can I explain
Only by telling you this
something of who I am
and who I am not
I am not a pretty one
or a girlie girl
just me
and so I don't own
much jewellery
but here, lying here
are earrings and bracelet both
orange, silver and shiny black
and perfect
so perfect.
On to an hour later
I am out and about
talking with some friends
I am waving my arm around
waggling my head back and forth
I am grinning from ear to ear
because I am an orange girl
a happy orange girlie girl
which makes me smile
you do that
Do you know
I take you with me
so many days these days
I just look at my wrist
twist it this way and that
seeing the beauty and care
this proof of you there
there, already I am smiling
and thinking of you
and being thankful
all over again.
like I love lemon meringue pie
have done ever since I can remember
it marks the close of my birthday each year
with it's fizzy popping sweet and sourness
white swirls and sparkling peaks above
and soft wobbly lemon wonder below
it is the queen of all the desserts to me
And I just love the colour orange
ever since the moment as a young girl
that I was told that it is a colour
but it is also a thing
so you can hold it
touch it
smell it
taste it
be splashed by it
how many colours can you do that with
come on now ...
that is seriously cool
in fact way cool :)
You can never be sure
how a series of events will unfold
and so when you asked me
about my colour preference
I had to own up to this
this childlike love of orange
which persists even to this day
and I know it hardly goes with anything
so I put it with everything
because it makes me smile
I got a package the other day
unfamiliar writing outside
but addressed to me
and on opening
there
orange tissue paper
layer upon layer
of orangeness
and underneath
more paper
and more anticipation
then underneath again
ah now
how can I explain
Only by telling you this
something of who I am
and who I am not
I am not a pretty one
or a girlie girl
just me
and so I don't own
much jewellery
but here, lying here
are earrings and bracelet both
orange, silver and shiny black
and perfect
so perfect.
On to an hour later
I am out and about
talking with some friends
I am waving my arm around
waggling my head back and forth
I am grinning from ear to ear
because I am an orange girl
a happy orange girlie girl
which makes me smile
you do that
Do you know
I take you with me
so many days these days
I just look at my wrist
twist it this way and that
seeing the beauty and care
this proof of you there
there, already I am smiling
and thinking of you
and being thankful
all over again.
It's that simple
Today I will talk of solace
Today I went on my bike
after a long day at work
I cycled to the playground
with my sisters' wonderful boys
I swung on the swings
I made out
that I could only swing
so high
that they could go higher
that I could not match them
how they crowed
how they healed
my heart
I love these boys
who love me
who send me off
with kisses
and hugs
and waves
from the window
I love them
they love me
it's that simple
Today I went on my bike
after a long day at work
I cycled to the playground
with my sisters' wonderful boys
I swung on the swings
I made out
that I could only swing
so high
that they could go higher
that I could not match them
how they crowed
how they healed
my heart
I love these boys
who love me
who send me off
with kisses
and hugs
and waves
from the window
I love them
they love me
it's that simple
Some days
Some days are supposed to be hard
it is not supposed to be easy to watch
as his dark wooden box is lowered
knowing that the person lying within
is no longer the boy you once knew
that his smiling eyes are forever shut
it is not supposed to be easy to stand
next to the loving mother of this son
to hold tight her hand whilst she tries
with everything she's got inside her
to withstand the onslaught of grief
without crumpling to the earth
it is not supposed to be easy to listen
as one after another stands out front
to say some words in choked voices
streaming eyes all around us
as earth is scattered onto the lid
and hands are pressed in their passing
it is not supposed to be easy to feel
her trembling in an effort to withstand
and then when beyond withstanding
to hold and to sway and murmur
wrapping arms tight in a vain attempt
to impart some small measure of strength
just enough to walk us back to the car
away from eyes themselves turned away
and in the shelter, behind the darkened glass
to sit beside this silently shuddering woman
feeling the helplessness that comes
from bearing witness to such devastation
knowing that this is only the start of it
that grief is a journey in its own right
that there will be more days as tough
with family and friends gone back home
and fewer of us left to stand alongside
some days are just supposed to be hard.
it is not supposed to be easy to watch
as his dark wooden box is lowered
knowing that the person lying within
is no longer the boy you once knew
that his smiling eyes are forever shut
it is not supposed to be easy to stand
next to the loving mother of this son
to hold tight her hand whilst she tries
with everything she's got inside her
to withstand the onslaught of grief
without crumpling to the earth
it is not supposed to be easy to listen
as one after another stands out front
to say some words in choked voices
streaming eyes all around us
as earth is scattered onto the lid
and hands are pressed in their passing
it is not supposed to be easy to feel
her trembling in an effort to withstand
and then when beyond withstanding
to hold and to sway and murmur
wrapping arms tight in a vain attempt
to impart some small measure of strength
just enough to walk us back to the car
away from eyes themselves turned away
and in the shelter, behind the darkened glass
to sit beside this silently shuddering woman
feeling the helplessness that comes
from bearing witness to such devastation
knowing that this is only the start of it
that grief is a journey in its own right
that there will be more days as tough
with family and friends gone back home
and fewer of us left to stand alongside
some days are just supposed to be hard.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow
I will stand next to you
all is prepared
everything is as ready
as it can be
except
there is no way
to prepare for this
for saying goodbye
finally
and there is no way
for me to prepare
to find a way
to be there
with you ... for you
except
I know something
about loss
not enough
not even nearly
so I will listen
and learn
open my heart
to your pain
my friend
I will stand next to you
all is prepared
everything is as ready
as it can be
except
there is no way
to prepare for this
for saying goodbye
finally
and there is no way
for me to prepare
to find a way
to be there
with you ... for you
except
I know something
about loss
not enough
not even nearly
so I will listen
and learn
open my heart
to your pain
my friend
Sad news
Death is rarely a welcome visitor
no guest takes as much
giving so little in return
even in anticipation of it's visit
we are wholly unprepared
as if that in itself
might be enough to cause delay
hold shut the gate
through which we pass
into eternity
but death sweeps all aside
ignoring this lack of preparedness
entering without knocking
it overshadows
so that our loved ones cease
and are carried off
I knew
it was something bad
the minute I heard your voice
I knew
and a part of me plummeted
as I let your words wash over me
as I listened to your heart
crack open
words pouring out
through the fissures
even as I clung to the phone
even as I slid to the floor
I tried to find words
where no words will do
since words cannot undo
and then a nudge
at the back of my mind
Gabbriella
literally hearing her voice
reminding me to listen
that I don't need words to listen
And so in those moments
I quietened my own heart
reminded that this is not my grief
although I ache with you
to help
to offer solace
to lift some share
but I can't
it belongs to you
it is yours
ours is but an echo
the smallest ripple
it does not compare
so I can only offer
what I have
knowing it is not enough
because it can't be
Time ticks on
eventually your words
falter
stop
what did I say
nothing much
but enough I hope
laying the phone into it’s cradle
I send up a prayer
for my friend
and also to a friend
who watches over me
still
and even now
finds a way
to remind me
of the value
in a silent presence.
no guest takes as much
giving so little in return
even in anticipation of it's visit
we are wholly unprepared
as if that in itself
might be enough to cause delay
hold shut the gate
through which we pass
into eternity
but death sweeps all aside
ignoring this lack of preparedness
entering without knocking
it overshadows
so that our loved ones cease
and are carried off
I knew
it was something bad
the minute I heard your voice
I knew
and a part of me plummeted
as I let your words wash over me
as I listened to your heart
crack open
words pouring out
through the fissures
even as I clung to the phone
even as I slid to the floor
I tried to find words
where no words will do
since words cannot undo
and then a nudge
at the back of my mind
Gabbriella
literally hearing her voice
reminding me to listen
that I don't need words to listen
And so in those moments
I quietened my own heart
reminded that this is not my grief
although I ache with you
to help
to offer solace
to lift some share
but I can't
it belongs to you
it is yours
ours is but an echo
the smallest ripple
it does not compare
so I can only offer
what I have
knowing it is not enough
because it can't be
Time ticks on
eventually your words
falter
stop
what did I say
nothing much
but enough I hope
laying the phone into it’s cradle
I send up a prayer
for my friend
and also to a friend
who watches over me
still
and even now
finds a way
to remind me
of the value
in a silent presence.
Patter
I am just
unfolding myself
and my pyjamas
when the door opens
smallest boy
appears
dummy in mouth
biggest blue eyes
mumble mumble splutter
"take your dummy out"
determination flashes
louder more strident
mumble mumble splutter
"I can't understand you"
determination becomes
frustration
of the obstinate kind
of the 4 year old kind
time for the guessing game
do you need
a cuddle
a story
a drink of water
ummm
have you
wet yourself
wet the bed
errr
do you feel
too hot
too cold
a bit sick
a lot sick
hmmm
OK
here's what we'll do
I take his hand
and we head back
to his room
where I tuck him in
all the while
keeping up
the patter
you know
the patter
nonsensical chatter
encompassing whatever
pops into your head
at the time
where do we learn this
this soothing
how do we know instinctively
that the only thing
really needed here
is a flow of words
a few more minutes
of company
as I sit watching
him fall from here
all the way down
into dream land.
unfolding myself
and my pyjamas
when the door opens
smallest boy
appears
dummy in mouth
biggest blue eyes
mumble mumble splutter
"take your dummy out"
determination flashes
louder more strident
mumble mumble splutter
"I can't understand you"
determination becomes
frustration
of the obstinate kind
of the 4 year old kind
time for the guessing game
do you need
a cuddle
a story
a drink of water
ummm
have you
wet yourself
wet the bed
errr
do you feel
too hot
too cold
a bit sick
a lot sick
hmmm
OK
here's what we'll do
I take his hand
and we head back
to his room
where I tuck him in
all the while
keeping up
the patter
you know
the patter
nonsensical chatter
encompassing whatever
pops into your head
at the time
where do we learn this
this soothing
how do we know instinctively
that the only thing
really needed here
is a flow of words
a few more minutes
of company
as I sit watching
him fall from here
all the way down
into dream land.
Why
Why is such a powerful question
to be used with caution
many sided as it is
at once a challenge
a request for clarification
but you see the thing is
that in any complete response
a peeling back is involved
an exposure of the layers
delving into the murky depths
of what motivates an act
or creates an interaction
In much the same way
I am cautious in answering
do you actually mean why
are you ready to engage
in a dialogue on the matter
deal with what may very well
turn out to be raw realities
or will platitudes suffice
in which case
the question is not why at all
and the simplest answer is
well ... it just is.
Why do we do what we do
side stepping the issue
we might ask instead
what made me do it
we may thus seek absolution
teetering on the edge
of a shocking self revelation
for isn’t the truth of it
that mostly we do what we do
for our own ends
seeking to meet our own needs
and that is why.
If life were that simple
questioning it would now falter
but isn't it also true
that in the way we seek
we sometimes act
in ways we would not normally
causing internal conflicts
as we try to justify the unjustifiable
shifting the burden of responsibility
from our own shoulders
why do we do this?
When we abdicate responsibility
for our actions
we become powerless
consigned to the fates
or to the will of the gods
in this way we misuse faith
cushioning ourselves from the reality
that we act this way
because we want to
at least at the time we do
but why?
to be used with caution
many sided as it is
at once a challenge
a request for clarification
but you see the thing is
that in any complete response
a peeling back is involved
an exposure of the layers
delving into the murky depths
of what motivates an act
or creates an interaction
In much the same way
I am cautious in answering
do you actually mean why
are you ready to engage
in a dialogue on the matter
deal with what may very well
turn out to be raw realities
or will platitudes suffice
in which case
the question is not why at all
and the simplest answer is
well ... it just is.
Why do we do what we do
side stepping the issue
we might ask instead
what made me do it
we may thus seek absolution
teetering on the edge
of a shocking self revelation
for isn’t the truth of it
that mostly we do what we do
for our own ends
seeking to meet our own needs
and that is why.
If life were that simple
questioning it would now falter
but isn't it also true
that in the way we seek
we sometimes act
in ways we would not normally
causing internal conflicts
as we try to justify the unjustifiable
shifting the burden of responsibility
from our own shoulders
why do we do this?
When we abdicate responsibility
for our actions
we become powerless
consigned to the fates
or to the will of the gods
in this way we misuse faith
cushioning ourselves from the reality
that we act this way
because we want to
at least at the time we do
but why?
Silence
Can silence
ever be as eloquent
as words spoken
or is it that the impact
of a look
can never match
what is said
In silence
we can be eloquent
without words
we can speak
a simple touch
a drawing near
can say more
But silence
can be a barrier
a separation
so I'll throw a line
aim it high
a string of words
from my side
What to say
that hasn't been
only this
I've been thinking
that letting you go
might make it easier
for you to stay
ever be as eloquent
as words spoken
or is it that the impact
of a look
can never match
what is said
In silence
we can be eloquent
without words
we can speak
a simple touch
a drawing near
can say more
But silence
can be a barrier
a separation
so I'll throw a line
aim it high
a string of words
from my side
What to say
that hasn't been
only this
I've been thinking
that letting you go
might make it easier
for you to stay
Isn't This?
I don't want to start fighting again
I am so tired of trying to find
new ways to say the same old things
can't we go walking instead
hold hands and talk of the breeze
or of the sound of the river flow
I just want to walk with you my love
and speak of gentler things
reminding us of times gone by
when there was nothing better
than we two on the same path
wandering homeward together
You think this is avoidance tactics
but when I question this use
of such war-like words you shrug
as if to say well isn't this
I know better than to disagree
but my heart cries into the silence
I don't do much in the way of shouting
having never been able to see the benefit
of using volume over reason
is this why you can't see
the intensity of the emotions I feel
or does your focus rest solely on your own rage
I wonder again how it comes to this
how there is even a question of sides
and rights, since when did we have rights
in our dealings with one another
whatever happened to the art of compromise
that doesn't only require that I back down
Still I don't believe that even these difficulties
cannot be untangled, undone rung by rung
if only we can both ascend to the plateau
an agreed level at just the right height
between your needs and mine
from where we can both see the horizon.
I am so tired of trying to find
new ways to say the same old things
can't we go walking instead
hold hands and talk of the breeze
or of the sound of the river flow
I just want to walk with you my love
and speak of gentler things
reminding us of times gone by
when there was nothing better
than we two on the same path
wandering homeward together
You think this is avoidance tactics
but when I question this use
of such war-like words you shrug
as if to say well isn't this
I know better than to disagree
but my heart cries into the silence
I don't do much in the way of shouting
having never been able to see the benefit
of using volume over reason
is this why you can't see
the intensity of the emotions I feel
or does your focus rest solely on your own rage
I wonder again how it comes to this
how there is even a question of sides
and rights, since when did we have rights
in our dealings with one another
whatever happened to the art of compromise
that doesn't only require that I back down
Still I don't believe that even these difficulties
cannot be untangled, undone rung by rung
if only we can both ascend to the plateau
an agreed level at just the right height
between your needs and mine
from where we can both see the horizon.
Note to a long time friend
I think you've mentioned that I’m soft
both in the heart and in the head
at least so you've said
But I just wanted to let you know
that I have not given up on us
even if it turns out that you have
Some say things they don’t mean
trying to soften the blow
or avoid it altogether with silence
So if I have misunderstood somehow
mis-read the signals or lack thereof
I thought I’d better just say
That this softness lasts a lifetime
and so you’re always welcome
to re-establish contact when you’re ready
Assured that our friendship endures
until or if such time comes
that you tell me otherwise
It feels like it’s been too long now
since we sat at your kitchen table
chatting into the small hours
Since none of my recent attempts
to tempt you into talking have worked
I’ll leave you instead with this thought
I can’t change the person I am or was
or any of the things I have done
despite having so many deep regrets
But something I can say in truth
is that no matter what happens
I will never regret knowing you
So now I’ll leave you finally in peace
for I’m not sure I can bear trying again
to scale the walls of your silence
both in the heart and in the head
at least so you've said
But I just wanted to let you know
that I have not given up on us
even if it turns out that you have
Some say things they don’t mean
trying to soften the blow
or avoid it altogether with silence
So if I have misunderstood somehow
mis-read the signals or lack thereof
I thought I’d better just say
That this softness lasts a lifetime
and so you’re always welcome
to re-establish contact when you’re ready
Assured that our friendship endures
until or if such time comes
that you tell me otherwise
It feels like it’s been too long now
since we sat at your kitchen table
chatting into the small hours
Since none of my recent attempts
to tempt you into talking have worked
I’ll leave you instead with this thought
I can’t change the person I am or was
or any of the things I have done
despite having so many deep regrets
But something I can say in truth
is that no matter what happens
I will never regret knowing you
So now I’ll leave you finally in peace
for I’m not sure I can bear trying again
to scale the walls of your silence
Some Starting Point
I hate that familiarity breeds contempt
how is it that I can trace my hand
across any part of your terrain
and know it as if it were my own
whilst your thoughts remain hidden
behind this dull but polite courtesy
when did we start behaving this way
How can I risk so much on you
when you give so little in return
each small step seen from the outside
can feel like a giant leap from within
and yet … ah well, here we are again
with me thinking this way and you that
am I still so blind to your compromise
Can divergence ever be persuaded
to change course and head for home
have you forgotten the promises we made
that no matter what life brings our way
you and I would be our own safe haven
us against the world, do you remember
such safety found in each others arms
As I talk of such matters I meet your eyes
I want you to see my serious intent
knowing my simplicity bothers you
makes you think I don’t see the whole
the complexity of the issues at play
but in this you mistake me my love
for I see it all … all too well
I am not searching for a quick fix
but a lasting solution or resolution
I want to find some starting point
a place where I can stand with you
where we can once again become one
even if it is only in this endeavour
to find some way forward together
how is it that I can trace my hand
across any part of your terrain
and know it as if it were my own
whilst your thoughts remain hidden
behind this dull but polite courtesy
when did we start behaving this way
How can I risk so much on you
when you give so little in return
each small step seen from the outside
can feel like a giant leap from within
and yet … ah well, here we are again
with me thinking this way and you that
am I still so blind to your compromise
Can divergence ever be persuaded
to change course and head for home
have you forgotten the promises we made
that no matter what life brings our way
you and I would be our own safe haven
us against the world, do you remember
such safety found in each others arms
As I talk of such matters I meet your eyes
I want you to see my serious intent
knowing my simplicity bothers you
makes you think I don’t see the whole
the complexity of the issues at play
but in this you mistake me my love
for I see it all … all too well
I am not searching for a quick fix
but a lasting solution or resolution
I want to find some starting point
a place where I can stand with you
where we can once again become one
even if it is only in this endeavour
to find some way forward together
Time passes
Nearly six months have passed
since yesterday
when I walked into your room
for the very last time
carrying yet more flowers
some of our favourite music
and a heavy photo album
loaded down in every way
for our stroll along memory lane
wondering as I did
how to build an effective dam
against the pressing torrent
of tears threatening
to engulf me at any moment
Even now I remember the dread
other mixed emotions
how to live up to this honour
of being here to see you through
from this side
to whatever lies beyond
not knowing though
that this would be that hallowed day
hoping as ever to push back time
stretch the moments
and yet with your next breath
wanting to run as far away
as it was possible to get
afraid as ever
Rooted instead to the spot
holding tight somewhere inside
even as I gently held your hand
too frail, not really yours at all
listening to the rasp of your breaths
spaced impossibly far apart
wondering how to tell
when exactly it would be that you left
and thinking where are the final words
the chance to say ...
well so many things
too many for such a dry mouth
as my hammering heart raced
even whilst yours slowed to a still
Slowly I became aware of that stillness
from which there would be
no re-awakening
no more feeble jokes
as we stumbled through another rosary
why is it that when your heart is full
your mouth ceases in it's ability
to form even simple words
perhaps because they are as dust
whirling like so many motes
in the light that fell upon your face
I never sat so still
as I did in those moments
hoping for one more flicker of you
See, I remember just as if these months
were really only seconds
I can still feel the crushing weight
somewhere below my stomach
and how wobbly my legs were
as I went to find someone to come
to make sure of what I already knew
and not wanting to walk back
into this room ever again
even as I desperately wanted to
to see you, no ... to see you
not this remnant left over
I recall thinking you looked better
now that it was all over
What I don't remember is leaving
or any of the drive home
how strange it was to feel so numb
and yet still able to move
I can still hear the whooshing sound
and the indescribable cry
when your mum heard my voice
knowing that I was
keeping my last promise to you
that even in those moments
we were letting go
and starting the whole process
of somehow learning to live
without you
However it feels in this moment now
it is not the same as then
each day has unfolded in it's time
bringing with it a lessening
in such imperceptible increments
that it's almost impossible to tell
except in small ways
I never knew how much I'd love
your amazing mother
or how much we'd laugh and cry
as we sorted through your stuff
finding small treasures
to parcel out to loved ones
how we would ourselves become friends
How strange it is now when we chat
that I see your smile on her face
that funny way you'd flutter your hands
as if to wave away my idiocy
and just when proved right
you'd twist it so it wasn't so
so this is where that sharpness comes from
I see the history of you in her every line
and in the gentleness of her chiding
that I should eat better, get more sleep
I know how she drove you up the wall
with her unceasing care
bequeathed now to us left to bear
even as time passes.
since yesterday
when I walked into your room
for the very last time
carrying yet more flowers
some of our favourite music
and a heavy photo album
loaded down in every way
for our stroll along memory lane
wondering as I did
how to build an effective dam
against the pressing torrent
of tears threatening
to engulf me at any moment
Even now I remember the dread
other mixed emotions
how to live up to this honour
of being here to see you through
from this side
to whatever lies beyond
not knowing though
that this would be that hallowed day
hoping as ever to push back time
stretch the moments
and yet with your next breath
wanting to run as far away
as it was possible to get
afraid as ever
Rooted instead to the spot
holding tight somewhere inside
even as I gently held your hand
too frail, not really yours at all
listening to the rasp of your breaths
spaced impossibly far apart
wondering how to tell
when exactly it would be that you left
and thinking where are the final words
the chance to say ...
well so many things
too many for such a dry mouth
as my hammering heart raced
even whilst yours slowed to a still
Slowly I became aware of that stillness
from which there would be
no re-awakening
no more feeble jokes
as we stumbled through another rosary
why is it that when your heart is full
your mouth ceases in it's ability
to form even simple words
perhaps because they are as dust
whirling like so many motes
in the light that fell upon your face
I never sat so still
as I did in those moments
hoping for one more flicker of you
See, I remember just as if these months
were really only seconds
I can still feel the crushing weight
somewhere below my stomach
and how wobbly my legs were
as I went to find someone to come
to make sure of what I already knew
and not wanting to walk back
into this room ever again
even as I desperately wanted to
to see you, no ... to see you
not this remnant left over
I recall thinking you looked better
now that it was all over
What I don't remember is leaving
or any of the drive home
how strange it was to feel so numb
and yet still able to move
I can still hear the whooshing sound
and the indescribable cry
when your mum heard my voice
knowing that I was
keeping my last promise to you
that even in those moments
we were letting go
and starting the whole process
of somehow learning to live
without you
However it feels in this moment now
it is not the same as then
each day has unfolded in it's time
bringing with it a lessening
in such imperceptible increments
that it's almost impossible to tell
except in small ways
I never knew how much I'd love
your amazing mother
or how much we'd laugh and cry
as we sorted through your stuff
finding small treasures
to parcel out to loved ones
how we would ourselves become friends
How strange it is now when we chat
that I see your smile on her face
that funny way you'd flutter your hands
as if to wave away my idiocy
and just when proved right
you'd twist it so it wasn't so
so this is where that sharpness comes from
I see the history of you in her every line
and in the gentleness of her chiding
that I should eat better, get more sleep
I know how she drove you up the wall
with her unceasing care
bequeathed now to us left to bear
even as time passes.
Here
The irony is
that I have longed for this
for you to finally crack
and talk to me
how has the law
of unintended consequences
come into play here
As I listen to you say
that you're not sure
if you want me any more
that you've felt
like this
for quite a while now
which leaves me
here
that I have longed for this
for you to finally crack
and talk to me
how has the law
of unintended consequences
come into play here
As I listen to you say
that you're not sure
if you want me any more
that you've felt
like this
for quite a while now
which leaves me
here
My heart does not lie
I don't know what to say
how to tell you that this
has not been some huge lie
our life so far together
and yet I must say something
So I will tell you only this
I love you, I always have
from that first moment
when your eyes softened
looking straight into mine
I wish so many things
that my past was different
no, not to spare me but you
for you suffer consequences
unintended and undeserved
You know I never thought
I would ever be with anyone
can you imagine the journey
taking me from there to here
to being here with you my love
If I regret anything at all
it's that I've not been enough
in pretty much every sense
insufficient in my deeds
and yet never in my heart
how to tell you that this
has not been some huge lie
our life so far together
and yet I must say something
So I will tell you only this
I love you, I always have
from that first moment
when your eyes softened
looking straight into mine
I wish so many things
that my past was different
no, not to spare me but you
for you suffer consequences
unintended and undeserved
You know I never thought
I would ever be with anyone
can you imagine the journey
taking me from there to here
to being here with you my love
If I regret anything at all
it's that I've not been enough
in pretty much every sense
insufficient in my deeds
and yet never in my heart
Have you?
Have you ever
given yourself
into the arms of
another
in complete
surrender?
Have you?
How did it
feel?
given yourself
into the arms of
another
in complete
surrender?
Have you?
How did it
feel?
A little bit sad
Such a strange thing this ... your superior smile
telling me that I'm naive beyond your credulity
but what if I tell you that it's by my own choice
that I have chosen to trust rather than the opposite
You tell me that this hurt is then my own fault
for being unable to read the underlying signs
that lie between the lines of what’s said and unsaid
askance at my incomprehension of the obvious
It seems beyond belief that I do not understand this
unless you understand that I do not see as you do
so signs need to be high up and fluorescent bright
not asides that apparently any idiot would pick up on
Purposeful naivety, is there a specific word for it
probably not, so maybe I should create one of my own
for I own to this approach with my whole heart
and I would rather be hurt than be the cause of it
If you need to be smart to understand all this stuff
then leave me in my ignorance so I can find friends
that do not scorn and scoff at my attempts to integrate
and since when was laughter such a potent weapon
I see your wry grin as you state that I am just childish
whereas I'd say I am child-like which is not the same
for I've had the benefit of many long years of living
in which to learn and understand what's important
And although your good opinion of me would be nice
I'd rather stand tall under the gaze of my own estimation
than whither inside trying to pay the price to meet yours
so I'll aim to remain child-like in whom I choose to trust
Even though the price might be more times like these
when ridicule will aim it's sharp arrows at this soft target
I know the price paid for a hard outer shell is even higher
which makes it funny in a way, and just a little bit sad too.
telling me that I'm naive beyond your credulity
but what if I tell you that it's by my own choice
that I have chosen to trust rather than the opposite
You tell me that this hurt is then my own fault
for being unable to read the underlying signs
that lie between the lines of what’s said and unsaid
askance at my incomprehension of the obvious
It seems beyond belief that I do not understand this
unless you understand that I do not see as you do
so signs need to be high up and fluorescent bright
not asides that apparently any idiot would pick up on
Purposeful naivety, is there a specific word for it
probably not, so maybe I should create one of my own
for I own to this approach with my whole heart
and I would rather be hurt than be the cause of it
If you need to be smart to understand all this stuff
then leave me in my ignorance so I can find friends
that do not scorn and scoff at my attempts to integrate
and since when was laughter such a potent weapon
I see your wry grin as you state that I am just childish
whereas I'd say I am child-like which is not the same
for I've had the benefit of many long years of living
in which to learn and understand what's important
And although your good opinion of me would be nice
I'd rather stand tall under the gaze of my own estimation
than whither inside trying to pay the price to meet yours
so I'll aim to remain child-like in whom I choose to trust
Even though the price might be more times like these
when ridicule will aim it's sharp arrows at this soft target
I know the price paid for a hard outer shell is even higher
which makes it funny in a way, and just a little bit sad too.
Seven Years of Wisdom
I do love our celebration days
the gathering of everyone together
the colour and ceremony of it all
cake, balloons, games, family & friends
and today watching you glow
the centre of all of our attention
present opening gone in a flash
wrapping paper flying ... oo's and ah's
so often now these days
I am conscious of your wisdom
more so than you are of course
since you've so much to think about
and not that much of it wise at all
such is the nature of this age
what more could I expect
and I don't, since I remember well
the ebb and flow of thoughts and dreams
beliefs subsequently undone by events
that don't concur with your conjecture
but whilst not quite matching up
don't cause huge consternation either
such is the wisdom of seven years.
Years in which you've learnt much
and I much too alongside you
discovering through your eyes
a new kind of wonder at it all
somehow despite your young age
I sometimes think that you teach
lessons I could learn nowhere else
and what of the pillars of wisdom
gathered over these seven years.
First and foremost acceptance of love
both in the giving and in the receiving
creating certainty and a sense of safety
I love the assumption that all is well
as long as one of us is alongside
so on to the second which is trust
freely given and even in the breach
not quite so freely but still, forgiven
fallibility not a cause for derision
and on to the third, simple enjoyment
in running down a hill too fast
at spinning around until giddy
in sitting on a swinging gate chatting
in finally getting a kite off the ground
taking the training wheels off your bike
jumping from the top diving board
well ... too many other things to list
on to the fourth which is gratitude
demonstrated in a sudden hug
a handmade card or a painted picture
a grasp of the hand and a swing about
a twinkling of eyes across the room
fifth is in the seizing of the moment.
There is rarely a better time than now
in which to start having more fun
chores nearly always get done in the end
especially the ones turned into a game
there is a time for work, but also for play.
Sixth is trying even when you're not sure
how do we know without giving it a go
and how many times have I watched you
overcome some overwhelming trepidation
only to turn with that gigantic smile
that comes from such accomplishments
and finally we come on to the seventh
which is back to where we started.
I just love the way that you wonder
and are so often filled with wonder
is this not the very foundation of wisdom?
Altogether this makes you a very wise boy.
Happy Birthday Oliver. I love you. Always.
the gathering of everyone together
the colour and ceremony of it all
cake, balloons, games, family & friends
and today watching you glow
the centre of all of our attention
present opening gone in a flash
wrapping paper flying ... oo's and ah's
so often now these days
I am conscious of your wisdom
more so than you are of course
since you've so much to think about
and not that much of it wise at all
such is the nature of this age
what more could I expect
and I don't, since I remember well
the ebb and flow of thoughts and dreams
beliefs subsequently undone by events
that don't concur with your conjecture
but whilst not quite matching up
don't cause huge consternation either
such is the wisdom of seven years.
Years in which you've learnt much
and I much too alongside you
discovering through your eyes
a new kind of wonder at it all
somehow despite your young age
I sometimes think that you teach
lessons I could learn nowhere else
and what of the pillars of wisdom
gathered over these seven years.
First and foremost acceptance of love
both in the giving and in the receiving
creating certainty and a sense of safety
I love the assumption that all is well
as long as one of us is alongside
so on to the second which is trust
freely given and even in the breach
not quite so freely but still, forgiven
fallibility not a cause for derision
and on to the third, simple enjoyment
in running down a hill too fast
at spinning around until giddy
in sitting on a swinging gate chatting
in finally getting a kite off the ground
taking the training wheels off your bike
jumping from the top diving board
well ... too many other things to list
on to the fourth which is gratitude
demonstrated in a sudden hug
a handmade card or a painted picture
a grasp of the hand and a swing about
a twinkling of eyes across the room
fifth is in the seizing of the moment.
There is rarely a better time than now
in which to start having more fun
chores nearly always get done in the end
especially the ones turned into a game
there is a time for work, but also for play.
Sixth is trying even when you're not sure
how do we know without giving it a go
and how many times have I watched you
overcome some overwhelming trepidation
only to turn with that gigantic smile
that comes from such accomplishments
and finally we come on to the seventh
which is back to where we started.
I just love the way that you wonder
and are so often filled with wonder
is this not the very foundation of wisdom?
Altogether this makes you a very wise boy.
Happy Birthday Oliver. I love you. Always.
Me (in 55 words)
Why?
oh god ... well
if I only knew
the reason for that
then I could change it
alter myself
entirely
so instead of being
an individual
as I am
even so
I could be
divergent
or maybe not
what matters here
is the difference
but it's not to be
not yet
now
I'm just
me
oh god ... well
if I only knew
the reason for that
then I could change it
alter myself
entirely
so instead of being
an individual
as I am
even so
I could be
divergent
or maybe not
what matters here
is the difference
but it's not to be
not yet
now
I'm just
me
Faith
Is complexity compromised
by our desire to break it down
to simplify into basic concepts
in order to gain an understanding
or does it steadfastly maintain
it’s inherent nature despite us
Recently I have been thinking
about why I feel the need
to break complexity down
knowing as I do that the whole
is made up of so much more
than the sum of it’s parts
Even so the whole is too vast
and trying to encompass it
has made my brain sorely ache
both in an effort to understand
and in regret at my poor efforts
leaving me here in my ignorance
Perhaps it is better to accept
than to strive for understanding
but can we change our own nature
if questioning is deeply ingrained
is it necessary to subjugate it
fleeing instead to a form of faith
Is faith based on a fleeing from
as valid as that of a fleeing towards
does The Maker look kindly on us
in such circumstances as these
being able to see the whole as it is
in all of it’s glorious complexity
Does anything change it’s nature
under the influence of mere observation
surely only our perceptions change
as we move from one standpoint
hoping that the next will in turn yield
epiphany, revelation, perhaps even faith.
by our desire to break it down
to simplify into basic concepts
in order to gain an understanding
or does it steadfastly maintain
it’s inherent nature despite us
Recently I have been thinking
about why I feel the need
to break complexity down
knowing as I do that the whole
is made up of so much more
than the sum of it’s parts
Even so the whole is too vast
and trying to encompass it
has made my brain sorely ache
both in an effort to understand
and in regret at my poor efforts
leaving me here in my ignorance
Perhaps it is better to accept
than to strive for understanding
but can we change our own nature
if questioning is deeply ingrained
is it necessary to subjugate it
fleeing instead to a form of faith
Is faith based on a fleeing from
as valid as that of a fleeing towards
does The Maker look kindly on us
in such circumstances as these
being able to see the whole as it is
in all of it’s glorious complexity
Does anything change it’s nature
under the influence of mere observation
surely only our perceptions change
as we move from one standpoint
hoping that the next will in turn yield
epiphany, revelation, perhaps even faith.
Broken
Can I just explain?
It's such a strange thing. Often my most optimistic posts are written on the cusp of a sudden descent into the ever present darkness that pervades my life. Hence I posted about my late night bath time ... closely followed by the poem below. Which I then withdrew this morning. Part of my ongoing battle perhaps.
The bath time events described occurred a few weeks ago when I was staying over at my beloved sisters' place. I am so lucky to have an opportunity to be an auntie, something that brings me more joy than I can hope to describe. The chance to give love without the blessing/burden of parental responsibility. Priceless.
And yet ... and yet. There are times when I feel so totally desolate. Times when I feel that all that I am was defined long ago. When unspeakable things were done ... things I saw, things I experienced, things I did.
Don't tell me that just because I was a little girl it doesn't count. It counts. I broke trust with my brother. It counts. It does.
And so ...
Broken
I want you to know
the nature
of my brokenness
When I was small
I met a man
a monster man
He did things
unspeakable things
which I watched
And then was watched
by my brother
we locked eyes
I willed him through
it was not enough
it never is
And somehow now
I can't unlock
from these things
It's such a strange thing. Often my most optimistic posts are written on the cusp of a sudden descent into the ever present darkness that pervades my life. Hence I posted about my late night bath time ... closely followed by the poem below. Which I then withdrew this morning. Part of my ongoing battle perhaps.
The bath time events described occurred a few weeks ago when I was staying over at my beloved sisters' place. I am so lucky to have an opportunity to be an auntie, something that brings me more joy than I can hope to describe. The chance to give love without the blessing/burden of parental responsibility. Priceless.
And yet ... and yet. There are times when I feel so totally desolate. Times when I feel that all that I am was defined long ago. When unspeakable things were done ... things I saw, things I experienced, things I did.
Don't tell me that just because I was a little girl it doesn't count. It counts. I broke trust with my brother. It counts. It does.
And so ...
Broken
I want you to know
the nature
of my brokenness
When I was small
I met a man
a monster man
He did things
unspeakable things
which I watched
And then was watched
by my brother
we locked eyes
I willed him through
it was not enough
it never is
And somehow now
I can't unlock
from these things
Night games
"What in heavens name is going on here?"
it's the exact tone from my childhood
whipping my head around knowing I won't see
my mother resplendent there in her ire
those ancient towering rages with hissing lips
and hands itching to do their own damage
No when I turn my head I just see her
my sister, and so parody comes to play
I look over at William but he's no help
he knows I'll take the fall for whatever it is
he always has the perfect alibi that one
he just shrugs waiting to see what'll unfold
We're sitting in the bathtub at 2 in the morning
I 'm torpedoing our frogmen with bath balls
whilst William is making not-so mini tsunamis
resulting in some splash-out unnoticed by me
well at least until a proper grown up arrives
causing the mantle of responsibility to re-settle
Funny really, it all started innocently enough
as pretty much all of these things do I find
with a squeaky creak of the door in the dark hours
"Jos I've been sick and it's all everywhere"
an altogether accurate assessment as it turns out
he looks like he's been dipped in a vat of vomit
Well the only solution presenting itself to me
is a wash down with a hot soapy sponge
followed by tucking us in the folds of my bed
ha, such expedience is to be denied however
"we need a bath, I want a bath with you Jos"
such imperiousness as only 4 year olds weild
Negotiations thence commenced in earnest
I want assurances of near deathly quiet
and I want first go with the blue frogman
as it's the only one that works as it should
and I want to sit at the tap end with my legs out
because I don't like being squished at one end
After due consideration we compromise
I get the tap end with it's extra depth and warmth
but I have to keep my legs up my own end
which sounds anatomically impossible
but let's gloss over that for the moment
I do at least win first go with the blue frogman
So you see, it wasn't my irresponsibility at all
that led to merry splashing in the early hours
a complete drenching of the bathroom floor
an instant reneging on the deathly quiet promise
I'm completely unable to compose a serious face
as I try to explain how this wasn't my fault.
it's the exact tone from my childhood
whipping my head around knowing I won't see
my mother resplendent there in her ire
those ancient towering rages with hissing lips
and hands itching to do their own damage
No when I turn my head I just see her
my sister, and so parody comes to play
I look over at William but he's no help
he knows I'll take the fall for whatever it is
he always has the perfect alibi that one
he just shrugs waiting to see what'll unfold
We're sitting in the bathtub at 2 in the morning
I 'm torpedoing our frogmen with bath balls
whilst William is making not-so mini tsunamis
resulting in some splash-out unnoticed by me
well at least until a proper grown up arrives
causing the mantle of responsibility to re-settle
Funny really, it all started innocently enough
as pretty much all of these things do I find
with a squeaky creak of the door in the dark hours
"Jos I've been sick and it's all everywhere"
an altogether accurate assessment as it turns out
he looks like he's been dipped in a vat of vomit
Well the only solution presenting itself to me
is a wash down with a hot soapy sponge
followed by tucking us in the folds of my bed
ha, such expedience is to be denied however
"we need a bath, I want a bath with you Jos"
such imperiousness as only 4 year olds weild
Negotiations thence commenced in earnest
I want assurances of near deathly quiet
and I want first go with the blue frogman
as it's the only one that works as it should
and I want to sit at the tap end with my legs out
because I don't like being squished at one end
After due consideration we compromise
I get the tap end with it's extra depth and warmth
but I have to keep my legs up my own end
which sounds anatomically impossible
but let's gloss over that for the moment
I do at least win first go with the blue frogman
So you see, it wasn't my irresponsibility at all
that led to merry splashing in the early hours
a complete drenching of the bathroom floor
an instant reneging on the deathly quiet promise
I'm completely unable to compose a serious face
as I try to explain how this wasn't my fault.
Change
Measures have their counter-measures
as arguments do their counter-points
why do we strive so for balance
how much do we give of ourselves
in this endless battle to deny change
Is it instinctual this form of resistance
a feature of having too fearful a nature
a lack of courage in times of flux
building our constructs, one upon another
in an ultimately vain attempt to prevent
Even so change comes in it’s own time
sweeping aside these puny defences
from our carefully regimented lives
leaving us at the mercy of uncertainty
an age old foe fashioned long ago
In memories born during our childhood
a time when we learnt of such perils
how a slipping of a hand-hold barely noticed
results in frantic searching amongst the crowd
finding only strangers faces all around
Shouting with increasingly panicked voice
only to discover that the reason
we have not been heard is that our voice
so loud inside our own head is there only
as we stand frozen, silently screaming
So it is that we learn of changes deft swiftness
the silent approach catching us unaware
plunging us from here to god knows where
with such abandon are we thus abandoned
to the vagaries of a now unfamiliar land
A place where we must learn new ways to be
avoiding the pitfall, a temptation to fall prey
to that urge to re-create in some small way
the familiar feel of our now redundant past
for what was, now no longer is. It has changed.
as arguments do their counter-points
why do we strive so for balance
how much do we give of ourselves
in this endless battle to deny change
Is it instinctual this form of resistance
a feature of having too fearful a nature
a lack of courage in times of flux
building our constructs, one upon another
in an ultimately vain attempt to prevent
Even so change comes in it’s own time
sweeping aside these puny defences
from our carefully regimented lives
leaving us at the mercy of uncertainty
an age old foe fashioned long ago
In memories born during our childhood
a time when we learnt of such perils
how a slipping of a hand-hold barely noticed
results in frantic searching amongst the crowd
finding only strangers faces all around
Shouting with increasingly panicked voice
only to discover that the reason
we have not been heard is that our voice
so loud inside our own head is there only
as we stand frozen, silently screaming
So it is that we learn of changes deft swiftness
the silent approach catching us unaware
plunging us from here to god knows where
with such abandon are we thus abandoned
to the vagaries of a now unfamiliar land
A place where we must learn new ways to be
avoiding the pitfall, a temptation to fall prey
to that urge to re-create in some small way
the familiar feel of our now redundant past
for what was, now no longer is. It has changed.
Lifeline
I get scared by my thoughts
do you?
I've been doing that thing
I sometimes do
looking in the mirror
staring into my eyes
wondering
how to be braver
to just step off
Been thinking of jumping
know what I mean?
I keep finding myself clenched
and this tightness is tiring
which adds to it
this sense of why not
which scares me
into writing it down here
my lifeline
do you?
I've been doing that thing
I sometimes do
looking in the mirror
staring into my eyes
wondering
how to be braver
to just step off
Been thinking of jumping
know what I mean?
I keep finding myself clenched
and this tightness is tiring
which adds to it
this sense of why not
which scares me
into writing it down here
my lifeline
Lost
Are you lost?
yes
Why , where are you?
here
... and where is here?
here is here
OK, but where are you?
I am where you dare not go
Which is where?
where I am
yes
Why , where are you?
here
... and where is here?
here is here
OK, but where are you?
I am where you dare not go
Which is where?
where I am
Hoping for a better past
It's not that often that something
changes in a fundamental way
the way I think on things generally
but have a read of these simple words
are you still hoping for a better past?
Oh my word well yes sir I still am
and now you come to say it like that
I see in a way I just couldn't before
how bloody ridiculous such wishing is
but where does it leave me (you) now?
I guess I'd have to say thinking again
no, not experiencing past pain afresh
thinking again on the nature of hope
a way to leave it all behind, move on
to a life without the burden of regret
Now that I have finally come to realise
each re-visit has this wish contained
an impossible dream, a different result
and yet I am so almost whole, even so
so why do I nurture the fractures then?
Is it a form of lazy narcissism at play
wallowing in pain used as an excuse
for not appreciating what's here, now
when what I feel now is so unworthy
to just enjoy ... to even to feel ... joy.
changes in a fundamental way
the way I think on things generally
but have a read of these simple words
are you still hoping for a better past?
Oh my word well yes sir I still am
and now you come to say it like that
I see in a way I just couldn't before
how bloody ridiculous such wishing is
but where does it leave me (you) now?
I guess I'd have to say thinking again
no, not experiencing past pain afresh
thinking again on the nature of hope
a way to leave it all behind, move on
to a life without the burden of regret
Now that I have finally come to realise
each re-visit has this wish contained
an impossible dream, a different result
and yet I am so almost whole, even so
so why do I nurture the fractures then?
Is it a form of lazy narcissism at play
wallowing in pain used as an excuse
for not appreciating what's here, now
when what I feel now is so unworthy
to just enjoy ... to even to feel ... joy.
Missing you
I was all right
well sort of
then you hugged me
and I fell apart
that's what happens
when you show
kindness
I know that I already
said it undoes me
because it does
and I'm left here
trying to find a way
to make it OK
but it isn't
So I'm left with
shame and pain
not your intent
which adds to it
see I do understand
but I can't help
to put it right
Except in this way
to do it here
in my safe place
where I can write
what I can't say
so many things
like I miss ... you
well sort of
then you hugged me
and I fell apart
that's what happens
when you show
kindness
I know that I already
said it undoes me
because it does
and I'm left here
trying to find a way
to make it OK
but it isn't
So I'm left with
shame and pain
not your intent
which adds to it
see I do understand
but I can't help
to put it right
Except in this way
to do it here
in my safe place
where I can write
what I can't say
so many things
like I miss ... you
Inside
I fell
and the mirror
shattered
the shards dug in
deepest red flowed
the image changed
fragmented
and I saw
And what I saw
is how I felt
shattered
for the first time
what I saw
was what is
on the inside
now outside
and the mirror
shattered
the shards dug in
deepest red flowed
the image changed
fragmented
and I saw
And what I saw
is how I felt
shattered
for the first time
what I saw
was what is
on the inside
now outside
Walking on.
I met a Seer who asked me to look
so I turned my head to follow her gaze
seeing nothing of note I turned again
to find her countenance radiant with joy
in wonder she said to me “did you see?”
wanting some part of her joy I nodded
knowing that it was a lie, I walked on
Meeting a Believer who said “have faith”
while on her knees she asked me to pray
so I said some words not of my heart
and watched as her face filled with peace
then she said to me, “your faith is strong”
wanting some part of her peace I nodded
knowing it was in part a lie, I walked on
I then met a Doer who asked for help
she looked strong in her determination
so I stayed to lend a hand in the doing
watching the tasks completed mount up
in satisfaction she said "you've done well"
wanting some regard in myself I nodded
it was in most part a lie, so I walked on
To find a Done-Toer asking for comfort
her vivid scars were clear to see
displaying her vulnerability with pride
making my heart ache as I drew near
she said “you have wounds deeper than I”
wanting to share in her comfort I nodded
an unfathomable lie, yet I walked on
Meeting a Listener who asked me to hear
even in my impatience I paused awhile
as she described such beauty in sounds
she said "you hear what others cannot"
I tried to discern beyond the cacophony
and told of melodies playing in the wind
lies written on my face as I walked on
I next met a Thinker who spoke little
in her silence she compelled me to stop
telling me that all answers lie within
so I sat pondering a purpose in it all
then she said to me “you are enlightened”
and wanting to think this true I nodded
lying time and again as I walked on
To meet a Teacher asking for wisdom
thinking I had some to share I spoke
words spilling out over each other
as I emptied myself of lessons half learnt
after a pause she said "you are a wise one"
and in my pride I nodded my agreement
more lies added to others as I walked on
And found a Healer asking of me nothing
being also a Believer, Doer, Thinker, Seer
seemingly all these things and more
my heart stood still even as I stood still
under the gaze of one seeing some of my lies
a voice said “look” and I trembled turning
to see only a Seeker walking towards truth
So I asked for meaning instead of healing
in delight the Healer laughed and said
“steps have purpose and meaning of their own
remember, beauty is found in these fragments
that make up the whole, so walk more gentley"
taking a hold of my hands the Healer smiled
as I nodded my head and turned to walk on.
so I turned my head to follow her gaze
seeing nothing of note I turned again
to find her countenance radiant with joy
in wonder she said to me “did you see?”
wanting some part of her joy I nodded
knowing that it was a lie, I walked on
Meeting a Believer who said “have faith”
while on her knees she asked me to pray
so I said some words not of my heart
and watched as her face filled with peace
then she said to me, “your faith is strong”
wanting some part of her peace I nodded
knowing it was in part a lie, I walked on
I then met a Doer who asked for help
she looked strong in her determination
so I stayed to lend a hand in the doing
watching the tasks completed mount up
in satisfaction she said "you've done well"
wanting some regard in myself I nodded
it was in most part a lie, so I walked on
To find a Done-Toer asking for comfort
her vivid scars were clear to see
displaying her vulnerability with pride
making my heart ache as I drew near
she said “you have wounds deeper than I”
wanting to share in her comfort I nodded
an unfathomable lie, yet I walked on
Meeting a Listener who asked me to hear
even in my impatience I paused awhile
as she described such beauty in sounds
she said "you hear what others cannot"
I tried to discern beyond the cacophony
and told of melodies playing in the wind
lies written on my face as I walked on
I next met a Thinker who spoke little
in her silence she compelled me to stop
telling me that all answers lie within
so I sat pondering a purpose in it all
then she said to me “you are enlightened”
and wanting to think this true I nodded
lying time and again as I walked on
To meet a Teacher asking for wisdom
thinking I had some to share I spoke
words spilling out over each other
as I emptied myself of lessons half learnt
after a pause she said "you are a wise one"
and in my pride I nodded my agreement
more lies added to others as I walked on
And found a Healer asking of me nothing
being also a Believer, Doer, Thinker, Seer
seemingly all these things and more
my heart stood still even as I stood still
under the gaze of one seeing some of my lies
a voice said “look” and I trembled turning
to see only a Seeker walking towards truth
So I asked for meaning instead of healing
in delight the Healer laughed and said
“steps have purpose and meaning of their own
remember, beauty is found in these fragments
that make up the whole, so walk more gentley"
taking a hold of my hands the Healer smiled
as I nodded my head and turned to walk on.
Flawed
If words are but our thoughts spoken
why is it madness to talk to oneself
and why is it that when looking inside
we find such duality in our own natures
craven and pure standing side by side
along with the many degrees between
We none of us are what we seem
yet knowing this, seeing the façade
would we rather believe than doubt
better perhaps to have faith in a sham
than to face uncomfortable truths
stripped down bare what do we become
Mirrors reflect only the masks worn
ears hear only words spoken aloud
if appearance is all, then all is lost
for who is capable of appearing perfect
and how can we delight in our being
being imperfect with such deep flaws
Pain at every turn when turning inward
falsehood all around looking outward
those who promise faithfulness lie
unaware that while perfection beckons
we mortals are not able to attain it
such is the grievous nature of self
Nature is by its very nature flawed
we who persist in believing otherwise
fall prey time and again to the perils
of hurt and perpetual disappointment
brought low by our own shortcomings
dashed against the rocks of recrimination
If I say I hate the person that I am
I know you in your gentle generosity
will ask me to reconsider, to be kinder
in my darkened soul lies stand upon lies
reaching ever higher towards the light
in this light I'm not at all what I seem.
why is it madness to talk to oneself
and why is it that when looking inside
we find such duality in our own natures
craven and pure standing side by side
along with the many degrees between
We none of us are what we seem
yet knowing this, seeing the façade
would we rather believe than doubt
better perhaps to have faith in a sham
than to face uncomfortable truths
stripped down bare what do we become
Mirrors reflect only the masks worn
ears hear only words spoken aloud
if appearance is all, then all is lost
for who is capable of appearing perfect
and how can we delight in our being
being imperfect with such deep flaws
Pain at every turn when turning inward
falsehood all around looking outward
those who promise faithfulness lie
unaware that while perfection beckons
we mortals are not able to attain it
such is the grievous nature of self
Nature is by its very nature flawed
we who persist in believing otherwise
fall prey time and again to the perils
of hurt and perpetual disappointment
brought low by our own shortcomings
dashed against the rocks of recrimination
If I say I hate the person that I am
I know you in your gentle generosity
will ask me to reconsider, to be kinder
in my darkened soul lies stand upon lies
reaching ever higher towards the light
in this light I'm not at all what I seem.
A promise
It’s funny how a heart can be heavy
and yet a bit lighter at the same time
strange that you’d already said goodbye
and only some time later I come to reply
How do you part from precious friends
when they’ve become something more
part of the cornerstone on which we stand
integral to the very fabric of our lives
How can a friendship still in its infancy
have come to mean so much, so soon
only because of an awareness of time
that for some it stretches too short a way
I remember these words you wrote to me
“Isn’t it great we get to know each other,
don’t you think so??” Can you imagine
how wonderful those words were to read
And it captures something quite rare
an openness for sure, but there’s more
a willingness to share your own heart
calling up a response from deep within
With little time heart must speak to heart
and so it was that our friendship was forged
even as the battle intensified towards its end
as you walked in the fire that cancer brings
Leaving us to look on from the flames edge
as they slowly engulfed you, dear heart
until at last release has come to free you
with wings you rise even as the flames die
There’s a place beyond where no regrets exist
what passes for currency there you already have
in such abundance as to be rich beyond compare
the thought of that lightens my heavy heart
It only remains for me to say this last thing
no, this is not goodbye, that I will not abide
we both know that life goes on in the beyond
I will always remember the promise we made.
and yet a bit lighter at the same time
strange that you’d already said goodbye
and only some time later I come to reply
How do you part from precious friends
when they’ve become something more
part of the cornerstone on which we stand
integral to the very fabric of our lives
How can a friendship still in its infancy
have come to mean so much, so soon
only because of an awareness of time
that for some it stretches too short a way
I remember these words you wrote to me
“Isn’t it great we get to know each other,
don’t you think so??” Can you imagine
how wonderful those words were to read
And it captures something quite rare
an openness for sure, but there’s more
a willingness to share your own heart
calling up a response from deep within
With little time heart must speak to heart
and so it was that our friendship was forged
even as the battle intensified towards its end
as you walked in the fire that cancer brings
Leaving us to look on from the flames edge
as they slowly engulfed you, dear heart
until at last release has come to free you
with wings you rise even as the flames die
There’s a place beyond where no regrets exist
what passes for currency there you already have
in such abundance as to be rich beyond compare
the thought of that lightens my heavy heart
It only remains for me to say this last thing
no, this is not goodbye, that I will not abide
we both know that life goes on in the beyond
I will always remember the promise we made.
Safe Havens
Safe havens come in many forms
sometimes containing things
previously considered unsafe
only upon reflection with the relative
comfort of distance can it be seen
that everything has its own nature
Maybe by learning the nature of things
predictability can reduce randomness
not altogether but perhaps just enough
anxiety lessening as excitement grows
a fascination in the prediction process
reducing those old fears and distress
A lesson that if carried forward
creates safer havens in more forms
a confidence that should unexpected
events occur, this is not in or of itself
a matter that need be of undue concern
safety thus becomes a state of mind
I went to just such a place recently
where through warmth and laughter
I learnt again that difference is good
more inclusive than banal uniformity
spectrum of diversity becoming the norm
appreciated for its multicoloured hue
Some safe havens draw you into them
so instead of the feeling on the outside
I’m ushered in to take a chair by the fire
sat in a resting place with good company
accepted without question or distrust
trusting in turn bringing its own reward
Wisdom falls often on stony ground
but wandering once more upon the path
of recollection, happening on a stone
upon which are written simple words
saying when hard things happen in life
it helps to know there will be an after
Now that is treasure worth pocketing
and carrying home this precious gift
I ponder how to share it back to its giver
along with gratitude for time and welcome
with truly healing hugs and mugs of tea
made stronger by bonds of friendship.
sometimes containing things
previously considered unsafe
only upon reflection with the relative
comfort of distance can it be seen
that everything has its own nature
Maybe by learning the nature of things
predictability can reduce randomness
not altogether but perhaps just enough
anxiety lessening as excitement grows
a fascination in the prediction process
reducing those old fears and distress
A lesson that if carried forward
creates safer havens in more forms
a confidence that should unexpected
events occur, this is not in or of itself
a matter that need be of undue concern
safety thus becomes a state of mind
I went to just such a place recently
where through warmth and laughter
I learnt again that difference is good
more inclusive than banal uniformity
spectrum of diversity becoming the norm
appreciated for its multicoloured hue
Some safe havens draw you into them
so instead of the feeling on the outside
I’m ushered in to take a chair by the fire
sat in a resting place with good company
accepted without question or distrust
trusting in turn bringing its own reward
Wisdom falls often on stony ground
but wandering once more upon the path
of recollection, happening on a stone
upon which are written simple words
saying when hard things happen in life
it helps to know there will be an after
Now that is treasure worth pocketing
and carrying home this precious gift
I ponder how to share it back to its giver
along with gratitude for time and welcome
with truly healing hugs and mugs of tea
made stronger by bonds of friendship.
Another request
There are valleys of pain
once in you must walk through
the steep sides cannot be climbed
there are no shortcuts to up and away
Pain has it’s own lessons to teach
and won’t stand by being unheard
patience holds hands with pain
forcing us to be still and experience
To surrender some part of ourselves
to the inevitability that release
comes only in its own time, not ours
that it has meaning beyond existence
I would that this were not so, even so
but power over such matters as this
lies elsewhere, if indeed it lies anywhere
surely a subject of its own plunging depths
Beyond reasoning even as I rage
at the injustice that allows pain
to be wrought so indiscriminately
robbing us of ourselves and others
To the point where even existence itself
seems pointless when we cannot know
what fate holds, how life will unfold
turning corners onto unknown avenues
Where the gods promise only uncertainty
well, certainly in this life if not the next
the cycle of life perpetuates the myth
that things stay the same when they don’t
Is pain visited only on thinking beings
or is it that we are deaf to the screams
as plants wither, as leaves dry and drop
limbs falling to the ground of the forest
I would like to take The Makers hand
lead her to the place pain was first created
and ask her to unmake this one thing
unknowing of the consequences therein
once in you must walk through
the steep sides cannot be climbed
there are no shortcuts to up and away
Pain has it’s own lessons to teach
and won’t stand by being unheard
patience holds hands with pain
forcing us to be still and experience
To surrender some part of ourselves
to the inevitability that release
comes only in its own time, not ours
that it has meaning beyond existence
I would that this were not so, even so
but power over such matters as this
lies elsewhere, if indeed it lies anywhere
surely a subject of its own plunging depths
Beyond reasoning even as I rage
at the injustice that allows pain
to be wrought so indiscriminately
robbing us of ourselves and others
To the point where even existence itself
seems pointless when we cannot know
what fate holds, how life will unfold
turning corners onto unknown avenues
Where the gods promise only uncertainty
well, certainly in this life if not the next
the cycle of life perpetuates the myth
that things stay the same when they don’t
Is pain visited only on thinking beings
or is it that we are deaf to the screams
as plants wither, as leaves dry and drop
limbs falling to the ground of the forest
I would like to take The Makers hand
lead her to the place pain was first created
and ask her to unmake this one thing
unknowing of the consequences therein
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