September

Its been a while.

A hectic, mind-bending while.

A while of happiness and joy, of heartbreak and worry, of irritation and self-doubt.

But now its September, and as is my wont, I take myself aside at the start of this month every year, and give myself the luxury of starting anew. The self-indulgent luxury of thinking that I can change the way I am on this planet. That I can take the slightly less than meandering path through the maze of family, work, hopes and dreams and undergo the metamorphosis that is essential to my journey.

The cynic in me whispers "not again, why bother? Aren't you doing just fine the way you are? You can't change the world on your own."

But the relentless optimist roars in my ears, demanding to be heard. You can change. You can make a difference. You can be a better human being.

I can't hear myself think but I am listening. Intently.

I am also gathering my marbles, those that I can find, and I am preparing to play the game again.

I hope the gods are smiling.

What Colour is the Wind?

Today is a typical April day in this part of the world.

Some very wet rain, a little watery sunshine, breath-taking winds, squally showers, bright spells and a couple of horrendous downpours. Everything that a body could need to dispel any seasonal blues that might be lurking around. The excitement and suspense of not knowing whether one is going to make it safely through the next hour without being soaked to the skin or, whether, the powers that be will smile benignly on the ant-like creatures scurrying about their oh-so-important business and spare them the ignominy of the drowned-rat masquerade.

It helps to be an optimist.

On with the running shoes and the dreaded raingear. Off with the ill-concealed pessism and reluctance. "We'll feel great afterwards" we mutter. Heads down, loins girded, we brace ourselves for whatever Nature can throw at us.

Character building.

I like the wind. Her noisy roar whispers seductively in my ear of immense power and incumbent humility. "My way or your way" she sings ... "Come dance with me..."

Three miles down the wild river bank we meet a lone walker braving the elements.
We regularly meet this man. He is always alone. Now. He used to have an old, far from handsome, dog that smiled. Just like the man.

Each time we meet, we exchange weather impressions, opinions on the state of the country, the world, and always wish each other well as we shuffle past. Today, he said, in passing, "Its like an orchestra out there .. the wind ... mother nature indulging her passions ... Do ye remember that story about the little blind boy that asked his dad ... what colour is the wind?"
All the time striding along. "Have a nice run, ladies".

This man, with a few sentences, lifted my heart, releasing my spirit to soar and swoop through a rainbow of wind. I wanted to sing, to shout, to roar my gratitude to his soul.

I can't explain why his words had such a profound effect on me.

I am just so very grateful to him for awakening my senses, for showing me the way to a different reality.


photo credit: www.digalist.com

Whats Normal Anyway?

Isn't it amazing how time flies? One minute you're gathering up the detritus of Christmas and the next thing you know its Spring.

Rather alarming.

Admittedly, after the festive season, it was a manic couple of weeks. The kind that make you wonder about life in general. What its all about. Where we are all going. But once February arrived and the dust settled, I thought " YES, life IS going to swing back to "normal" mode". My naivete shocks even me, sometimes.

February saw the brightness of 2 young men slowly putting the pieces of their lives back together. Like sad little plants in the garden that you thought were lost forever. It also saw the optimism of youth, dreaming dreams of faraway lands, planning and scheming to make their dreams a reality. And he did. Beloved No. 1 son packed a small rucksack, organised his previous life and headed off into the unknown. Armed only with a passport, some money, a sunny disposition and an unquenchable thirst for life. There is a crack in my heart but thats where the light gets in. I suppose.

Early March saw a trip to London with Daughter No. 2 to see Daughter No. 1 who is planning wedded bliss. There's a lot to be said for living "in sin". My eternal reward is looking a little dodgy for that blasphemy, I suspect. March also saw 2 weekends away from home in a strangulated effort to finish a Yoga Teacher Training course that I foolishly embarked on 2 years ago. It saw GB playing with ice-axes and crampons in the snows of Scotland and also skittering his bony frame down the slopes of some remote Austrian ski slopes. It also saw youngest son dealing with the pain of losing a friend through suicide. A difficult time for him.

Normality.

The Royal Residence remains as ever. In dark moments, of which they're are few, thankfully, I wonder are they going to live FOREVER.

So, in my head, its still January and I'm fired with the enthusiasm of a new year. No matter that 3 months have passed me by. In my heart, I'm an optimist. I will make time to do the things that I want to do. Like sleeping. And reading. And blogging. Sometimes, I wish for a slow life. But then, I realise, I'm the one in the driving seat. Its easy to rationalise yourself into a corner.

In recent days, I have been skulking around various blogs, catching up on lives unknown, rarely commenting. I feel I have no right. Just when my conscience reappeared is a mystery.

I suspect guilt has something to do with it.

And now .....

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. My apologies for not updating sooner. Its been busy around here, to say the least.

Against all the odds, the 2 lads pulled through and are now back in hospital in this country. Thankfully, the prognosis, for both of them, is good. There is a palpable sense of relief for everyone affected by the accident.

Incidents like this, and we've had more than our fair share since Christmas, bring home to me the utter futility of planning ahead, of wasting today because tomorrow will surely be so much better.

Now is the only time we can be sure of ...

I find it quite difficult to live every moment in the present.

But I'm getting better at it.

I think.

Any spare angels hanging around looking for a project?

Change

Its the skiing season.

The cold, wet, white, sometimes slushy stuff, that inspires normally sensible people to purchase wearable lagging jackets, lurid pink woolly socks and impenetrable mirror shades. All in the pursuit of the THRILL.

"Its SO exhilarating" they gush.

"The change of scenery is SO invigorating".

"And its SUCH a marvellous change from the normal, humdrum, da de da lives we all live. You MUST try it!"

Hmm.

Six young lads from my daughter's circle of friends decided to bite the bullet. They duly girded their loins and ventured forth into the alluring world
of snow.

They were having a ball. The apres-ski was particularly to their fancy.

Last saturday night, 3 of them accepted a lift back to their lodgings from a local man. The other 3 decided to walk.

Now 2 of these vibrant, young men are on life support, 1 is seriously injured and the other 3 are severely traumatised.

Their lives and the lives of everybody who knows them, are changed.

Forever.

Maybe there will be positives from this change.

I am praying.

Christmas

In a moment of sisterly insanity last week, the bould Molly and myself agreed to post on the 23rd of December.

It is now, officially, the 24th and I am the victim of my own conscience.
Better late than never, I tell myself.

Christmas has always been, for me, a time of mixed emotions.

Manic exhilaration, as a child, when the postman stopped at our door carrying several brown paper parcels. Delight at the golden-haired doll at the end of the bed on Christmas morning. Unspeakable pleasure on donning the softest white, woollen scarf and hat.

Misery and resentment waking up, alone, having been forced to sign my mother into a drying out facility on Christmas Eve.

Love and happiness for my baby's first encounter with the magic of Santa.

Loneliness and sadness for love unspoken.

And now its 2008.

Happiness and delight at No. 1 daughter's engagement.

Apprehension and pride at No. 1 son's plans to get off the merry-go-round and walk the world.

Gratitude and love for the lives of the ancient ones.

Optimism and hope.

Tis the season to be human. Indeed.

May all your Christmases be bright.

Portrait of a Procrastinator

Its taking longer than I expected to get my act together.