ASYNCHRONOUS PROCESS

Cobwebs and dust are banished

No not in my home, the spiders like the space and the dust, ah well it comes. I don't write in it and do gather it regularly but not stringently:0)

No, cobwebs and dust are being banished from this 'room' so much so it is going to be safely mothballed in its present state however some of it's essential shape and colour are being taken to a new room. The room can be found here NO YOU WONT FIND ME THERE I AM NOW HERE OR AT LEAST THE NEW HOME IS THERE I WILL ACTUALLY BE POSTING THERE THIS FRIDAY...

...THE 'NEW' BLOG NEEDED TO HIBERNATE AND IS STILL QUIET BUT IS ABOUT TO WAKE UP FOR REGULAR POSTING RATHER THAN SNORING:0) IF YOU GO THERE NOW YOU WILL FIND SOME OLDER POSTS BUT THE NEW ONES WILL BEGIN ON FRIDAY 19TH APRIL 2013, come over and say hello HERE

Life just keeps happening :0)

Days become weeks and weeks become lambs, huh?

No that is not a typo or me being even more mind numbingly dense than usual; one of the things that happened, whilst I was away from this place for almost a year, was small matter of five ewes and ownership, well part ownership being mine.

It could have been one of those drunken conversations when the world is cured of all ills and you find yourself next morning in bed with someone whose name you don’t even begin to know.

As someone who gave up alcohol when she was around 17 that wouldn’t be me, I could still have those conversations and still wake up next to someone whose name had never been part of the conversation but never was I drunk except maybe on life itself:0)

So, all the jokes about sheep and living in Wales could be alluded to but that would be geographically incorrect and any way these sheep started as a throw away thought which became an idea and evolved in to five mowing machines.

I have a friend who has a small acreage attached to her home, nothing fancy save for the setting and the three ponds interlinked that traverse the two large fields on the side of a valley in Northumberland. Nothing fancy but very special to the person who calls it home and to the many people who have the good fortune to spend time in the tranquillity of the place plus the abundant wild bird beast and butterfly populations that through planting and caring have been encouraged to call it their home too.

All this has been done on a shoestring or probably to be more accurate half a shoestring so keeping the fields mowed regularly so that meadow flowers etc could flourish became something the purse was having to stretch towards more meaningfully than needed so idea for mowing machine that not only cut but fertilised as it went seemed like a good idea one late night.

Eventually after research and lots of petting fleeces:0) five ladies of breeding and integrity were found and offered the job in return for plentiful hay when the grass stopped growing with handfuls of special nuts thrown in for delight. They moved in and the fun began.

Of trenches and transformation

 

The neglected but still much loved garden here, is enjoyed by all who live in and around the cottage.

Wild birds love the large shrubs and mature trees, butterflies and bees love the apple and blueberries blossom, bats love the clouds of midges at dusk, Flo loves the warmth of the afternoon bench, Rhys and Banon love everything and I love watching the breeze play with the trees, spying the Wren waiting for its turn at the bird tables, watching listening and responding to the garden with spade secateurs and much thought.

Now there is slow, very slow, change being wrought in our garden serious pruning has been and continues to happen. I have had a few days of help from someone more able to dig a trench then fill it with stone chippings, than I, in hope of solution for rain created stream which appears over night and sweeps down the garden with wet intent that pushes all before it.

Round bed has been cleared of plants and weeds completely, then dug and levelled out. Weed suppressant fabric laid then round pavers with gravel put on top. Area in the middle is not about to become a swimming pool but is destined to be home for a small polytunnel.

Rhys and Banon have been highly entertained by each twig or branch chopped, each shovel of soil dug but are really happy with the new path.

No sheet music but definiely a tune

And so the story continues…

Not sure where the blog will take me this time but I know from past experience talking to myself in this way has given me surprise and understanding along with friendships and sharing that I had neither expected or to be honest even considered as being part of the process.

The process for me is to sit down in front of a blank screen and just write, so, if you are new to this blog let me just warn you that I ramble, go off at tangents unimaginable in degree and possibility for soft landing but am told that I rarely completely lose my way and there is logic and reason to the trajectory which makes it back to the path before the end of a post.

I don’t always see that myself but what I write makes sense to me, helps me clarify thoughts, often discover as I write what I already know and hadn’t realised and oft time makes me smile in recognition of a thought found in the web of tangled connections which is my brain.

So, on the first day of May I begin as tentatively as I did some years ago now at this blogging ‘thing’.

I have not danced around any Maypoles today but I’ve watched the Hawthorn and its blossom dance in the blustery breeze chasing up and down the valley, have listened to the wild birds busy building nests and preparing for their offspring to arrive in the near future, have sniffed the heady perfume of the lilac bushes in the lane that have done extraordinarily well after the hard winter plus some rather enthusiastic pruning and been glad to find myself alive on this first day of May in a rather neglected garden outside a stone cottage that has undergone major building work over the last year which still has one or two major things to ‘enjoy before the autumn arrives.

Life begins each morning as the sun rises on a whole new clean page of a day. Something beautiful is offered to over night clawed hands, that makes them stretch out with as open a palm as is possible even if pain reminds me that each moment may include a colour I might not have chosen for my personal palette but I understand it does not come in any hue that can really overwhelm the others just depends on my skill to mix them up in to the rainbow of my making, understanding, exploring being.

I have found that skill is not given but needs to be worked at, practiced and practiced again until the skill is to practice. No need for production, presenting something complete as for me the production is life and its living which, like the May blossom, might seem to be transient even a little ephemeral but the blossom comes from roots planted deep and the passage of the sun through the seasons of a trees life, so, why not the same for my life.

I am found in a portion of time I call a life. It can only ever be a moment not a lifetime that I am found in. That a moment, today has been gauged in blossom bird song and beauty carried on the wind to my nose can only be a gift and the beginning of the year of inactively finding myself actively in the present.

The skill is to practice and let the outcome surprise and enthral in a moment. No measure of day, month or year just a moment that stretches to infinity and dances beyond grasp or gain; offered without guarantee or returns policy but nothing less than perfect no matter what I do with life and its living.

The perfect is not me or anything I have can or will be, the perfect will never be found or bought but it can be glimpsed not as tease or snare but as reason to know that each day is another practice session

Walking slowly, breathing deeply, smiling

So much has and hasn’t happened since I last blogged here that it would silly and somewhat impossible for me to recount the moments that have filled the months. But one thing I will mention for those who will not know and may wonder.

 

After ten years of struggle, blind fear, anger and misery ‘The Man’ made the final stage of his journey gently and with some sense of peace in the days before he decided to take himself off to bed to dive deep and learn to swim in another universe. He died on the 27^th September 2010 at three minutes to 6pm. He was surrounded by people he recognised as friends, in a place he called home and with someone holding his hand till the final breath.

 

I wasn’t there but the day before I had spent six hours with him reading the Sunday paper aloud to him, playing music I knew he loved, singing along and falling asleep in the chair, when the infection I was being consumed by took the upper hand, for a moment much to the amusement of the sister in charge who came in to find us both asleep and my breathing way more laboured than his. That visit finished me off really and I knew I’d not be back the next day but also knew he was going to die the next day.

 

I saw many members of staff who kept a steady flow of visits whilst I was there, some who were not in work but had heard the time of his death would be probably whilst they were not on duty that week so came to say goodbye.

 

I spoke with three of the youngest members of staff who had not been in the job very long and ‘The Man’ was really the first person they had seen purposefully dying and were astonished and a little scared by the physical changes that were clearly happening hour by hour.

 

I am very clear that death is a wonderful promise never reneged on, is often a gift to be embraced with joy and is the moment for diving deep and learning to swim in another universe; that the energy of a life is freed to swim in waters never guessed at but familiar beyond knowing is the wonder of death for me. Being involved in the final days of anyone’s life is a privilege if one is able to help the person be as comfortable physically as they may be and peaceful in mind.

 

I thanked the three young women for their care and attention of ‘The Mans’ needs beyond rote or imposed policy. I told them that if they could manage to look every resident in the eye, lay a caring hand on a shoulder they would discover why their job was very important and more than that they would discover the magic held in each of the people who now called the nursing home their home.

 

Before the final week of ‘The Mans’ life I had sat down and written the letter I had promised him I would write, outlining what his wishes were for his final day and then had a meeting with the nursing team to draw up the plan which would be agreed by doctors as well as all staff at the home.

 

It turned out I am a rarity and that they have a hard job trying to get people to even consider this very important part of their relatives life. People clinging on for themselves rather than trying to understand what is good and true for the other person is much more the response which means nursing staff are faced with the agony of racing dying person off to hospital to be resuscitated for a third or fourth time to bring them back to the home each time further diminished and I would say dehumanised by the frightful pushing, pumping and alien sounds and sights that the resus room can present.

 

‘The Man’ tested the waters quite a few times before his final journey began, each time I was aware he had not really packed for the journey so was never surprised when two or three days later he’d be found doing his circuits of the establishment with a care assistant valiantly trying to keep up with him.

And the Days Are Not Full Enough

 

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

       Not shaking the grass.

Ezra Pound

Yes I am still alive!

Been a while since I posted here, longer than I had anticipated but still a few more weeks of silence before this place becomes the meandering ramble it usually is:0)

I haven't stopped blogging, during the silence here Blue Moon Year has found a post every day on it's pages. That has been an interesting project and I am committed to continuing for the whole year as it has been trigger point for many other things off screen which have in the main been positive.

This space will once again in May be place for thinking things through and discovering what they mean to me. It will be a mish mash of things heard and read, work produced by me and others and just basically anything that touches my daily life so will be as broad and as narrow as a small daily life.

There will be news of garden and cottage no doubt plus the adventures of Rhys Banon and Flo as they try valiantly to keep me in some sort of order.

There have been quite a few small changes and some rather large ones in the days of silence here but more of that in May, pictures too no doubt.

Today I begin a break away from internet connection land line telephone and my own cottage my camera is travelling with me so a picture a day will continue be taken so too my two line four line rhythm that is the scheme of things over at Blue moon Year. So when I am back in front of my computer I hope to post the 15 days or so which will begin /continue that project again.

I am not travelling to other countries but am going to explore a little more of my own country both internal and external by spending time in the hills of Mid Wales. A time for reflection, walking and watching the light play on the hills.

Spring is awake and endlessly stretching here so buds and shoots are filling up the earth and a heart. I know that when I return my garden will be an abundance of new growth riotous activity of bird and beast and will beckon me to come see what it has managed to achieve in a few weeks. The temperatures here have been unusually mild so it is sure to get colder whilst I'm away I just hope we don't get too severe frosts as the apple trees have been robbed of their blossom for the past two years and the buds are just begining to form but my blueberry bushes gave pounds of delicious fruit last year and they look very well at present so lots of treats for breakfast:0)

For now this post comes to you by a miracle of technology I don't understand. Whilst I ponder the stars and the rising moon connection to the Universe and where I am in that connection mans ingenuity enables this post to appear and be seen by passers by who I may never meet or even know have been here, an amazing world I live in, but a fabulous Universe I am part of.

Forty Days

 

That’s no wilderness that you spy above, though because the snap was taken as the dusk began to envelop the hills with a softness and other worldliness may be the sense of space has been expanded and the edges of time pushed a little but maybe that is more about my imagination and minds eye seeing the view not the snap I took with my camera.

Forty days are often associated in many peoples minds with the biblical, especially when the phrase ‘and forty nights’ are added; nothing like underlining and going for the belt and braces approach or just stating the obvious. Actually I like the two parts together as they always read to me as ‘Forty lights and forty darks’ a balance a wholeness a meaning of reason and logic. Without light dark would be lost without dark light would not be so brilliant without the space they create no depth without the energy they create no life of reason logic and meaning.

My personal forty days have stretched in to some fifty plus years so far which has given me a great sense of there being reason logic and meaning to life, my life in particular, if only to affirm each day that all life is precious and if that is what I believe, which I do, then that has to include this life I call mine. 

Not building a wall but making a brick

It all began with watching a programme about Brian Eno via the good services of BBC iplayer. I found the programme interesting especially the unexpected remembrance of finding the box of cards with words on them I discovered back in the 70’s in a second hand bookshop which he and another fellow had put together as aid to creativity thought and to my mind then and now a little silliness. But I could see that they could spark off other thoughts and thus clear the way to carry on working in a different way for some people so I bought the box for a birthday present and let it go with a smile. Seems I should have kept hold of it as they became rather valuable as a collectors item but I’m glad I gave it away as the person who received it was pleased and I have gone on to write my own cards through the years.:0)

The title to this post was on one of the cards, no I didn’t sneak it out of the box nor did I remember it over all these years as some sort of mantra, I looked it up after the programme and found the box has now be reissued in a slightly different form and offered at a price that means you’d have to really feel a need could be met by words on a 100 small cards written by someone else.

I thought about it for a while as I clicked through some of the other ‘nuggets’ found on these cards and asked myself would I actually buy the box if I had that money to spare hanging around. I decided the answer is definitely a no not because I think it is a whole load of baloney, I do actually see the point of breaking creative blocks or patterns of living etc but think that for me at least creating cards with words on is something I have done all my life be that actually on cards, pieces of paper, till receipts or in my head. 

List of smiles

Woodpecker, Blackbird, Jay, Nuthatch, Sparrow, Blue Tit, Bullfinch, Long Tail Tit, Collared Dove, Great Tit, Chaffinch, Pied Wagtail, Wren, Robin, Mistle Thrush, Coal Tit, Magpie, Carrion Crow, Greenfinch, Goldfinch all spotted having breakfast in my garden this morning whilst Grey heron flew overhead and Buzzard circled.

It made me smile and I hope the food I put out in the garden and the cover from bush and tree gave the birds reason to smile too.