One month… and three-and-a-half years
It's been one month already, i can hardly believe it. I'm liking my flat more and more and starting to find routines that feel comfortable again. Trips into town and my general busy-ness are keeping me occupied, though i'm still feeling a bit shy about joining any classes. Yesterday was his birthday, a milestone birthday that i know he would have wanted to ignore, but i wasn't able to: i thought about it all day. By the evening something had shifted inside me; i still had one photo i kept in a frame, so i placed it on the coffee table and lit a beautiful orange candle beside it. All evening we sat together, him and i, in the candlelight. I thought about the good times we'd shared, the really searingly awful times and everything inbetween. At ten to midnight I took his photograph out of the frame and held it in my hands. I'd never said goodbye to him, not in all these years and months, not really, not in any way that was true. But last night i thanked him for all he's taught me in his life and death, and i said goodbye. And the lightness i felt in my heart was just like a small child letting go of a balloon on a windy day. As i blew the candle out, I set myself free.
The House of Belonging
The House of Belonging
I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that
thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other.
But
the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
and
I thought
it must have been the quiet
candlelight
that filled my room,
it must have been
the first
easy rhythm
with which I breathed
myself to sleep,
it must have been
the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness
of the night.
And
I thought
this is the good day
you could
meet your love,
this is the black day
someone close
to you could die.
This is the day
you realize
how easily the thread
is broken
between this world
and the next
and I found myself
sitting up
in the quiet pathway
of light,
the tawny
close grained cedar
burning round
me like fire
and all the angels of the housely
heaven ascending
through the first
roof of light
the sun has made.
This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.
This is the temple
of my adult aloneness
and I belong
to that aloneness
as I belong to my life.
There is no house
like the house of belonging.
~ David Whyte, The House of Belonging
Hope-full
I'm still hopeful that I will find a way to make a thriving and abundant living from taking photographs of the things that catch my eye, the dreams i see in my head and the memories that follow me around.
I'm still hopeful that I will publish the book that lives on my hard drive, the one i have been chipping away at for a while now; the one that wants to be birthed.
I'm still hopeful that love will find me again, that i will trip over it when i turn the corner i hadn't planned on taking.
I'm still hopeful that I will be kinder to myself when I feel i can't cope, that i will lower my expectations of myself and others and simply be grateful for the smallest kindnesses that come my way.
I'm still hopeful.
I'm still full of hope.
Ordinary Sparkling Swirly
One of my favourite moments during my trip to California last year was when the four of us hunkered down on Christine's studio floor and got messy with the paints, glue sticks and scraps of vintage papers. I remember watching as she created three new pieces of work, selecting paint colours and papers quickly and instinctively, occasionally pausing for a moment before launching back in with a flurry of pencils, pastels and inky fingers. She drew wings and stamped words, and writing a personal message on the back of each piece, she gave one to each of us, just like that. While we'd been learning to let go and play, Christine had made us art. It was magical.
Now she's given art to everyone, with the publication of her book, Ordinary Sparkling Moments. It's easy for me to gush about it, seeing as she's my friend and I love her, but friendship aside, this really is a wonderful book. I've been having a tough few days, and as i always do when this happens, i reach for my book friends, the books i keep on my coffee table ready for any creative or emotional crisis. Ordinary Sparkling Moments has now joined them; each page sings with colour and wisdom, her journey as an artist, woman, wife and friend so inspiring and moving. I recognise myself in the page, yet i see her up ahead, leading the way too. Reading the book last night was like having Christine here on my sofa with me again; as i type this I can see the book now, sitting on my table, shining like a miracle made real – the power of dreams and making them our reality. If you haven't already, go buy this book!
Prettiness abounds
I've been finding it quite hard to take pictures here – it's not easy to look for the new when everything is new. So each day, as i go about my business, i take snaps (and they are snaps, not proper photos) just to anchor myself a little more in this new place. Sometimes i think the camera can be a hindrance to fully experiencing where you are, removing you from the scene or the people you are photographing; in this case the camera protects me a little bit, and gives me a way to experience the new sights in bite-sized pieces.
Five good things (in Bath)
{Fromage en Feu playing at the Bristol Folk House]
"Here is the question: Are you willing to be completely at peace with how things are right now in your life? Are you willing for just one moment to let go of all your dissatisfaction, of all your suffering about how things are? Are you willing to let go of all the worry and tension in your body and simply breathe?" ~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Call
1. My flat is very quiet, almost deathly silent, and i like this very much, especially after three years living with the ****** beneath my other flat, the ****** who played his music so loud every day. EVERY day, mind. Most nights i had a vibrating sofa.
2. The sun shone today and the streets looked so sparkly. Bath is such a pretty city, i'm starting to like it more and more.
3. Calmness is finding me; there is still so much to do, to find, to make and to let go of, but i am breathing a little easier.By keeping my steps small, and my expectations in check, i am beginning to normalise.
4. My new fridge arrived today. Thank GOD.
5. Meeting and photographing this band last weekend at a vintage tea party organised by my sister. They were so good!
*** Thank you ***
"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." ~ Alan Cohen, via a sister
Thank you for your kind words. Each time they arrive in my inbox i feel the soft touch of a virtual hug around my shoulders and it is helping so much. Today was quiet but also a little more productive… so thank you. Tonight i'm watching Ugly Betty and organising my kitchen cupboards. Little by little, right? x
Fragile
[The most organised part of the flat, with the half hour of sunshine we got the other day]
Even though so much thought and energy went into the preparations for the move, i wasn't prepared for the reality. I thought i'd hit the ground running; instead, i've just hit the ground. I'm going to be really honest and admit that i am struggling with all this change. With the small comforts of my old flat and town stripped away, i am left feeling very isolated and overwhelmed at what needs to be done to rebuild a life all on my own. I had the rose-tinted idea that all i needed to do was rearrange my furniture and off we go – unfortunately, that is not how it works. The tears and emotions were not helped by the fact that the hob, oven and fridge all needed replacing and the washing machine still doesn't work. Or that my broadband wasn't connected until yesterday. Or that it has rained every single day.
I miss having a familiar and safe foundation below me, even if it was one built on grief and struggle. I miss seeing familiar faces. Everything is feeling melodramatic, and i know all i can do is sit through it and let the days pass and my entry wounds will heal and i'll find my way, find my kindreds, but right now, today, i fear it won't happen. The panic rises in my throat when i think that the last three years have counted for nothing and here i am at the beginning again – i know this will pass, and i know the three years are actually the powerpack I draw from, but god, it's so debilitating when you're in the grip of the panic. Other changes are happening in my world too, and without a safe home around me i feel unable to assimilate them, i'm not ready for more change, i'm still trying to catch my breath from the jump. Now i remember that when you have to let go of so much, sometimes it doesn't immediately feel like freedom, it feels like loss.
I didn't want to post anything here until the sun had come out again but as that hasn't happened yet i'll just tell you where i am: I am a bit lost and i'm trying to find my way home.
I'm also smoking again, i'm afraid. Time to go back to those baby steps.
