A Slight Touch of Hankering ....

This is where I would like to be today, and maybe tomorrow and maybe, even, the next day and the day after that.

Where its warm and dry and way up in the sky.

Up near heaven.

And, maybe there, I could spend a few hours or days, or weeks, or maybe, even years figuring out what the writing on the door means.

Totems and Hankerings

Due to the lack of sunshine and the mind numbing dreariness of the persistent rain, I took myself off to the archives of my memory in search of some distraction.

And look at what I unearthed.

Totem poles from from an anonymous Spanish wizard.

Last July, I dragged GB and the 2 male offspring off to the north of Spain to cycle some 1000 kms across the original Way of St. James (my original desire was to walk but compromise is everything, and the males, as is their wont, wanted 'instant gratification'). Some eyebrows raise at the thought of this being a holiday.

On our journey we encountered the strange, the wonderful, the weird, the beautiful in myriad disguises of animal, vegetable and mineral.

And, now as I trawl through the memories, this seemingly strange, but innocuous photo is a powerful catalyst for mysterious hankerings.

We were nearing the end of our day's cycle. 40 miles in the legs, 20 still to do. The 2 bowsies were off on the horizon, haring like rabbits over the stony paths, hell bent on keeping their pater familias firmly in his place (they are, surprisingly, quite tolerant of my meanderings, my incessant photo stops, water stops and pee stops). GB, as ever, unwilling to bow to the supremacy of youth, is furiously pedalling, in a cardiac threatening manner, to shorten the gap between them. He is torn between ensuring that his life partner remains on the straight and narrow and putting manners on the whipper snappers. The devil and the deep blue sea springs to mind here. As does pissing against the wind.

Straggling way behind at a much more leisurely pace, my eyes are feasting on the beauty and serenity of my surroundings. I am tootling along, lost in the silence. Not a sight or a sound as far as the senses can discern, to indicate human incursions on the landscape .... Warm sun baking the earth, trees providing some modicum of shade, the odd bird twittering maniacally.

Bliss.

And then I see them.

The totems.

In the middle of nowhere. Standing tall and majestic, lord of all they survey.

Of course, I stopped.

A large field filled with totems, sculptured heads, torsos and a large selection of works in progress. How could one not screech to a halt?

Scrambling the 8ft wire fence, it did occur to me that maybe I should be a little wary.

To hell with that.

Curiousity ALWAYS wins.

It was an absolute delight. An Aladdins Cave of an Anonymous Dreamer. A one-acre field filled with half-started, half-finished monuments to the creative urge. There was a small shed at the far end of the field filled with tools, materials and the remnants of some well eaten lunches. A few rough sketches adorned the tin walls. Apart from the dirty, navy overalls discarded carelessly on the floor and the empty wine and water bottles, there was little to indicate that anyone had been here in the last couple of years. I felt like an intruder.

But then, of course, I was an intruder. Literally speaking.

But, when I stepped outside of the shed, I no longer felt uninvited.

I felt as if I had been made an offer. An offer I couldn't refuse. A invitation to view the wordless, beauty of hand crafted treasures set in the silent grandeur of this quiet, unassuming countryside. A privilege.

I lingered for as long as I dared and felt the hankerings, normally very well-behaved, stir deep down inside. Its not often that I indulge these buried longings. But I did. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

I wonder now, as I did that afternoon, who was the creator of these symbols. Having put so much energy, sweat and toil into creating them ... did they just abandon them? Or are they a continuing monument to one man or woman's dream, placed exactly where they should be in a silent patch of the universe, their only mission in life to stir the hankerings of all those who happen upon them?

If so, mission accomplished.

GB returned, grumbling incoherently about mid-day sun and mad dogs and wayward spouses and unrepentant scallywags. I dutifully scaled the fence and was quietly unrepentant.

The hankerings are still there and not so well buried anymore.

July 11th

Every year, July 11th comes around.

With monotonous regularity.

Every year, at the beginning of July, I think, "This will be the year that I won't remember ... this will be the year that it'll slip my mind ... and it will be the 14th or 15th before I remember .."

But it never happens like that.

Not in 33 years.

Not once has it passed me by.

Am I going to die, having never forgotten.

Prickly

Feeling a little prickly.

The lack of success at uploading images is making me a tad scratchy.

I have spent hours trying to add photos to posts from Kodak Images loaded onto the computer from a CD... all to no avail.

I'm thinking of checking myself into a home for the seriously bewildered.

If you can see a thistle .... please, please let me know.

One of Nature's Monuments

Having heard that the photo I endeavoured to put on the last post is appearing as a most unattractive empty box I am now running this one on test.

I would appreciate several rounds of applause and some wild, spontaneous acclaim and maybe a comment if I am successful in my endeavours.

Some booing and derision will also be humbly accepted.

Pauline's Posers

A while back, in a moment of madness, I requested 5 questions from Pauline ... I can't imagine what rush of blood to the head prompted this insanity ....

I suspect, having read Pauline's answers to 5 questions posed to her, and being suitably impressed and in awe of her perspicacity, my ego got in the way.

Anyway, having had a months holiday and having picked clean the brain of the Mollybawn, I now am endeavouring to answer these difficult posers. This exercise, is a somewhat futile attempt, to distract my emotional self from the turmoil of recent days.

My ego has definitely returned to a more manageable, gut wrenching normality.



Pauline's Posers


1. In addition to the basics - food, shelter, affection - What do you require for a good life?

Good health. Laughter. Trees. Animals.



2. How often do you pay attention to 'gut reaction'?

All the time.



3. Have you lived where you live all your life? If yes, why? If no, why did you move?

Except for the years from 18 - 32, I have lived here in this place, the land of my childhood. Not a distinct choice - I suspect I am easily pleased. Having spent a number of years travelling with GB, I was quite happy to fall in with his wishes to settle back in the only place where you can get a REAL pint of Guinness because I really am quite an agreeable person. And the Guinness is exceptional.


4. If we are what we think about (as well as what we eat), how would you describe yourself?

Mercurial.



5. Do you have a cherished belief? And what do you think would happen if you were to give it up?

Yes. I have 3.

The first one is that that I do no wilful harm either by thought, word or action to any living entity.
This one keeps me on my toes, all of the time, sometimes to an uncomfortable degree.


The second, more achievable one, is that I try to treat others as I would have them treat me.
I get to walk on my heels with this one, most of the time.


And the third one is, that I have tried, am still trying and will continue to try to have compassion as my first reaction to the human dilemma. No footwork involved here.


If I had to give these up?


Spiritual death, I suspect.



Bonus Question



What strategies have you developed in your lifetime to cope with loss?

I found this question very difficult to answer.

As a child, coping with a perceived loss of love, I stopped talking. As a teenager, I got angry and rebelled and spent my time seeking the negative. As a young adult, I struggled to hold onto my sanity and retreated behind a feckless exterior. Its only now, as a fully grown adult female that I realise I didn't really cope, in the true sense of the word, I just survived. It wasn't until I hit the bottom roaring and I felt very much alone that the truth finally hit me. I could either sink back into the old ways of dealing with pain - anger,denial, depression, - or I could wake up and do something about it. Meditation and travelling within to seek the answers worked and is still working.


Directions for the Interview Meme

1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me"

2. I will respond by asking you 5 questions - I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed you will ask them 5 questions.