A truth to swallow

When we suddenly lose someone close to us, understandably we are often left floundering for answers and so more questions are raised The 'why's' and 'could have's' and 'should have's' inevitably come into play and when that person dies without clearcut reasons to the lead up to their death, those ponderings become even more amplified. To tell a grieving friend that they must remember that person the way they were without question, however lovingly the sentiment is delivered, isn't necessarily helpful and at worse, could be construed as dismissive, especially when the grieving person needs to talk.
And though this message is not an advocation to wallow and make oneself sick from over analysing. There is a sense to allowing ourselves to give over to the questioning for two reasons.
The first one is the need to be able to integrate the new information about that person into our being. 
Another phrase banded about, is that 'we can never truly know someone'.
This has been a hard one to swallow, but is something that I am becoming to accept the older I become, and with the recent death of someone I knew, as much as I resolutely disputed that fact when I was originally told regarding my friend, it has certainly proven itself to be true  as new information comes to light in latter months. This has shaken me to the core, perhaps even more so than his death itself.
To continue the ideology of remembering someone as we think we knew them, feels like a lie, especially when new findings brought to light don't match our impression of them. It actually feels like a betrayal, so many emotions are brought up and each and every of them needs to be processed before peace can be made. To do otherwise feels like a denial to the reality.
I also believe that if we give ourselves permission to take the time to absorb and take in new information, to allow emotions to rise and fall, to not become attached to the feelings they bring up, eventually, not only will there be peace, but we can also arrive at a destination where there will be no judgement, either for ourselves or for our loved ones who can no longer answer for themselves.
By being able to express ourselves, to air our concerns, our questions our fears, our anger our hurt, in whatever form that may take, be it talking things through, writing, journaling, creating, we owe it to ourselves to take those opportunities however uncomfortable it is at the time. And if we are that chosen person to hear what needs to be said, just listen. Nothing else is required, unless asked.

And finally, the second reason. In questioning ourselves and our own role in their lives, by asking them, they will help us to absorb the learnings. With every situation, every experience and circumstance, they don't just have to 'happen', we can chose to learn and grow from them. Sometimes, we may never get to the bottom of the truth of what happened in the past, but we are able to perhaps glean from hindsight and recognise signs that we may have missed or not understood at the time, and therefor will be better equipped to maybe taking preventative action in the future.
I've mentioned it before, but I will mention it again. All that is left is love. We can lovingly embrace ourselves, for all our foibles. With love, there is no judgement, and there can be forgiveness followed by acceptance and then peace.

What about me?

It is not often I feel sorry for myself and what I am about to share, although might read like I could be doing just that, (certainly the title eludes to such maudlin). But I hope that from sharing these sentiments, you will read that they stem from a far deeper place and in writing them to the surface, I hope they might be transformed into a place of peace. 

I lost a close friend recently. His death was unexpected and as he had been living on his own, his body wasn't found until after the alarm was raised on the 3rd day of him not turning up for his work. I don't know what makes me more sad, the fact that he is dead, or that his death remained undiscovered for a few days. 

But Tim lived his life with minimal fuss. I believe he died the way he existed. Quietly and never making a scene. He was found lying on his bed and I can only hope for his ending to be peaceful and painless. I had spoken to him only a few days prior to his passing. I was compelled to call him, the feeling came as an urgency that I must speak with him. We had a good conversation, but during that time, I had feeling that our souls were saying goodbye. As we were chatting, I kept seeing my 2 Springer Spaniels in my minds eye. Their presence was so visceral, that I found myself communicating with them, asking what they were doing here. It all made sense after I learnt of Tim's death. They were there to help guide him home. Tim adored my 2 dogs and they in turn adored him. He was their favourite Uncle. 

Tim was dependable and was always popping in to see them after work. He even had a dogs bed permanently by his log burner so that they would feel at home whenever they went to stay if ever I were away. But it wasn't just the dogs he looked after. 

I met Tim when I was in my late 20's. He was volunteering for the Watercress line, painting the old stations and I used to see him in the village pub afterwards. It wasn't long before I joined the crew and from there on in, Tim became a close friend. I introduced him to my friends and family and before long, he would come along to family holidays, family events as well as joining in with all our Christmas gatherings. Tim saw me through relationship breakup's, he would help pick up the pieces during all my tumultuous periods of life without judgement. He cared deeply and I know that there would have been a time he would have gladly stepped into my boyfriends shoes. I am ashamed to admit it, but at the time, I didn't handle his feelings well, young and immature that I was back then. Fortunately for me, he forgave my carelessness, we somehow muddled through and an even deeper unspoken bond formed. But it is surprising how in death, you realise how little you know of someone, even a twenty year friendship, there are secrets and untold truths. Perhaps it was the nature of his work that kept him so private. There was so much he couldn't share with me or indeed anyone and in more recent years as his work evolved, the void of the unsaid became wider and the chasm of our friendship grew. Nonetheless, in all connections, there exists a far deeper form of interaction and we don't have to be near one another to know how the other is feeling. And even now, although Tim no longer resides on earth in the physical, I can sense him from afar. But it doesn't stop me missing him. 

Tim hasn't been the only friend to die this year though, and I have found myself wondering who will I have left to reminisce of the old days over a cuppa. Who will be here to remember me when I die and speak of the life that I lived and the achievements I made?

What is making things even harder for the emotions of grief to be possessed, is that there has been no funeral for Tim. Not even a memorial or celebration of his life. It was his wish. However for those left behind, I am not sure how conducive it is, to not have the opportunity to share ones grief within a community of people who knew him. Did he think his friendships were so inconsequential that he didn't think it mattered? Or did he feel that he was unworthy of anyone caring enough to take the time to remember the life that he once lived?

As a consequence. the weight lays heavy on my shoulders right now, to continue sharing our memories we shared together for the fear of his life being forgotten.

Perhaps this is the way of all things. Our legacies won't be left in the stuff we leave behind, or the thoughts or things we believe are ours to own, but rather marks we leave in peoples hearts. 

Our memories of the souls gone before us, will be told through the art of storytelling and stories will become entwined with the lives of the people that are telling them. Tales of tenacity, courage and bravery, humbleness, and quiet determination, will be shared across the land. Maybe it is not important to remember the names of who they began with, or even where they will end, as long as they help inspire, encourage and offer comfort. Perhaps part of living is learning the art of letting go. We are here for just a moment in time. We cannot take anything with us when we die, so when we really think about it, how strange it is that we are so obsessed with the need to define ourselves through identity and possessions. I know that how I will remember Tim will probably be very different to how someone else who knew him. What a rich tapestry of experiences our stories contain. All that remains will be nothing but love.

Dying Matters.

A set of illustrated cards I made based on the connation's of died

 A villager died last week. It matters not the details, after all, there are family, friends and neighbours grieving including myself and it would be disrespectful to share details in such personal matters

However, their death has  raised my curiosity and it reminds me to keep talking about dying matters however challenging or difficult the topic might be, especially if it raises some really important and perhaps potentially problematic issues. But I am the sort of person who likes to find solutions rather than bury my head in the sand and pretend death will never catch up with us all, and so the more I can learn about the potential scenarios, pitfalls and hazards of dying, the better equipped I can be to help support people and their loved ones  through to the very end.

For example. Why does it take 3 emergency response vehicles to arrive at a dying persons residence? 
There will of course be some very rational reasons for such course of action.
One of the biggest ones perhaps, was that no one knew they were dying. But given that they had been challenged with life-limiting health for very a long time, in a great deal of pain and discomfort that had  been getting worse in very recent years and months, could not leave their home other than for long stay visits at the hospital, suggests that there wasn't a lot of quality to life towards the end.
However, quality is subjective and we must be very careful to not make judgements on what brings quality into somebody else's life.
So how do we know then when someone is dying?
If they haven't been given a life expectancy timeline by someone in the medical field due to disease or illness, but that person has lived a life and has arrived at a point in life where no medical intervention will improve ones vitality. How can we help prepare them and ourselves for the eventual inevitable?
Dying may take years. But from the day we are born, we are already on the trajectory to death. It is a given that non of us will get out alive. So why is it that we have such a hard time talking about it? 
I believe we are giving ourselves a huge disservice by not sharing our thoughts and fears about our demise.
I wish I could have talked freely to my neighbour about their own thoughts, but to even broach the subject might have come across as not believing in their strength and tenacity to keep on living despite their pain, would they have thought I was giving up on them? 
The irony of all of this though, is that maybe they did want to talk? - Or maybe they didn't. But by simply lacking the courage on either side to even begin a conversation, one will never know now.
And by not talking about how we want our ending to look, we can rarely help each other out to allow that to take place. So instead, our ending might look like a roomful of paramedics and strangers, preventing the ones we really care about from entering the scene because dying can be deemed as ugly and traumatic for the untrained layman.
I do not deny that dying in some if not many circumstances can be ugly and messy.
I was fortunate to be with my Gran when she died. Her death was in an A&E department. They gave us the courtesy to close the curtains off for a bit of privacy, but it doesn't shut off the noise and bustle of others patients getting revived and carted off to wherever they needed to be. We were surrounded by messiness and trauma, but in those hours, all that mattered was holding the space to allow my gran to die. They took me aside to explain what was happening, but I already knew. They asked if I wanted her revived. I told them no, but of course, this was not my decision to make, so I called my mother but again I already knew the answer, and so eventually after some hours, I cannot recall, my Gran left this world as I held her hand and stroked her hair letting her know it was going to be ok. A short while afterwards, my parents arrived.
My grans death was the first one I had experienced. Since then, it has been my pets and a friends mother, but with every death, there is a sacredness to the process leading up to it and even afterwards.
It is a time for deep connection. Time stands still and if one can remain present, there is an energy to it that in itself is more than life itself.
If only we could all find the courage to know that our time is limited and to start talking about how and more importantly where we want to spend our last years, months, weeks, days and hours, maybe we can all give ourselves the sacred dying experience we all deserve.
I will be 48 years old this year. I hope that I have many years left in me, but nothing is a given, I have had to say goodbye to friends even younger than me already this year.
I may be unlucky to be struck down by a bus or a disease. But I have shared my thoughts and fears with my husband. I have written out a death plan which hope will at least give some indication on how I wish to live out my remaining time. I wish also to fill out a RESPECT form which can be filled out with your GP or health provider.
And while we are at it, it is really important to think about applying for your power of attorney, if you haven't already, both for financial and health & wellbeing. Tomorrow may never come for some of us. Lets help empower our loved ones to do the right thing by us. We deserve it and so do they.
For anyone curious to know more, I found this campaign  useful for lots of information.

Creating space.

Last week, I performed my last duty with my dementia gentleman for he has now been placed into his new care home.
My last day with him went like any other Monday I spend with him. There were no grand gestures, no speeches, no farewells. He wouldn't have understood anyway. I made sure I kept the few tears that unexpectedly escaped from my eyes discreet. Due to the degree of his condition, he had no sense of the big changes he had ahead of him. The last two years in my role as one of his carers have been enriching and fulfilling ones. The bond we formed was based on mutual respect and our communication was certainly imaginative due to the usual conventional way of interacting was often a challenge, and so gestures and facial expressions often took over where words couldn't.

Whilst the impending changes were being organised, I had initially been in haste to accept new offers of work, anxious to compensate for the loss of income. But it soon came apparent that I am not ready yet for extra responsibilities. I hadn't appreciated the emotional impact caring for someone has on ones heart and even though I treat my roles in care work professionally, to work so closely with such characters as my gentleman really affects matters of the heart and even more so when family members are also involved and one can't help but grow attached.
I am reminded of a verse in the Bible. 'A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance'.
And so with these words in mind, rather than chase after the next project, I have been giving myself permission to not only create space by holding back on new job opportunities, but also accepting the consequences of allowing the space in time. And what I am finding, is that sadness once again touches my soul. If I hadn't paused to take stock on the last two years, I believe I probably would have carried on with business. Many of us in the Western world seem to have developed a habit of filling every minute and every second of our time with 'stuff'. So often we forget to live in the present, too busy fretting about the future and we don't allow ourselves time to decompress or process our emotions so they get hidden away deep in our vaults, only for them to appear usually unannounced and out of the blue when we least expect it. 
So here I am, acknowledging the grief, accepting it for what it is, not comparing, not disallowing or ridiculing or belittling it, knowing that this too will pass.
I am in a fortunate position where I do not have to panic about where my next wage packet is coming from. My gardening job, not only provides a regular source of income, but it also brings me the therapeutic attributes of being outside. I will of course need to supplement my income at some point, but for now, I can kick off my boots and breathe deeply into the space I have in front of me and despite feeling sad I have also been able to get into my new studio and create art. What a joy this brings!
I have plenty of ideas, but for now, I won't put pressure on myself. Art for me is a way of processing change and the world around me. 
Speaking of change, a lot has happened since my last post. I have officially moved home and my old one has its interior completely demolished. I thought I would find it hard to see it gone, but standing inside as I occasionally do to follow its process, all I see is an empty building. What it used to contain, have morphed into memories that are embedded in my heart. 
I love my new home, this has become my safe and peaceful sanctuary. It is also much warmer to boot! 
And should I forget my own advice, I have a reminder written on my wall in the studio. - 
'Everyday I expand my awareness and trust in the joy of life unfolding'. 

Ripping the plaster off

The View from our new home

Up until now, I had been taking the damage limitation road to moving out. Taking the plaster off real slow has been the course of action, so anyone observing would be forgiven to believe that progress has not been made. The truth of it though, is that all my cupboards are now bare, bar the essentials to live.
Trips to charity shops, and recycling centre have been actively pursued and my new home across the river is starting to feel more and more like home, especially since my books have taken residence on the lovingly made shelves my husband created.
The reason for taking our time had been mainly for the cats. God forbid we disturbed their cosy little set up! But as explained in my last post, one of them was old and blind, to move everything at once would have been too upsetting for him and I did not want his remaining days to be distressing. At least this is what I had told myself, but as time went on, I was forced to accept that this move has been more painful than I would have initially admitted and my cats had made a convenient excuse for taking my time.
Don't get my wrong, I have been excited for new beginnings and I acknowledge my fortunate position to have a new home to go to, but as time passed, so too did my grief for what has been. It passed through in waves and as we reached crunch point of no return I was having to take stock on how to move forward without becoming a moody ungrateful emotional wreck, until one night last week after a full on meltdown, came my epiphany.

The solution was found in my Rituals; We go about life automatically, from one task to the other without giving anything much though other than to get the job done. I could have taken the decision to move everything in one go. The cats gave me a reason not to do this. But the truth of the matter was that I had not been ready for people however helpful and well-meaning, to move my possessions.
It was not as I first thought, about dismantling my home of 20 years, though of course this also felt sad to me. But it was more about the taking away of belongings by friends and family who may not have appreciated the ritualistic element to my process of clearing out my home that I had adopted since the day I began my transition across. 
So far, with every phase of my move, I had taken time alone to methodically clear out each cupboard and shelf space being mindful of what I kept and what I do not. Items that are staying with me I took time to wash, clean and dust before getting packed away. This all may read as rather anal, even obsessive behaviour, but it is much more than that.
As I sorted through things, memories of each item came to mind and as I cleaned, I gave thanks for the times spent here and after each area was cleared, I then cleansed and blessed the space left behind. It helped me to release and let go, knowing that everything that I take with me will also be given a fresh lease of life.
Now that all of the small stuff is done, I will be needing help with the bigger items. My husband is strong but I am not, so it makes sense to enlist help from friends. The other night while we were discussing the next steps, rather than explaining what was important to me, I snapped. To be fair, I don't think at that stage I even understood myself why I felt things had come to a head, for everything that I had been doing was on such a subconscious intuitive level, it hadn't even occurred to me to figure out in words what I was doing and why. So when I was knocked off centre by my husband interjecting with offers of help, it was only then, that I came to realise what it meant to me to maintain my rituals. Even in house clearance there can be sacredness, at least for me anyway and so initially I resisted the offer of  burly men to enter my home full steam ahead and load the van with my furniture. But on reflection and after some heart-based conversations with my husband, we eventually agreed on a plan of action that would honour my needs and at the same time, get the practicalities done at the same time.
So finally, we have reached the crucible of change where there can be no looking back. Yesterday we had my beloved handsome 18yr old cat put to sleep. He died peacefully at home on my lap as the tears rolled down my face. I cried for the rest of the afternoon, not only for my cat but for my home I will be imminently leaving, but then afterwards, a sense of calm came over me. 'All will be well'.

They say, as one door closes, another shall open and I believe it to be accurate. Already, offers of new work opportunities have arisen and though I am not quite in the place in both mind and in time to accept, the offers are there. I just need to focus on one day at a time.
And by the way, is there anything a bit of white vinegar and a few drops of essential oil cannot clean?!

Transitioning

24th June 2023

As I vacuumed up the last?! of the wedding confetti this week, (No one tells you that confetti, much like Christmas tree pine needles, gets everywhere and one will be discovering bits of the stuff in nooks and crannies for the next 6 months)  I find myself reminiscing on years gone by.

Now that I am married, life continues to flow just as it always had done before I became a wife. Does it feel any different people are asking me? Yes and no. In many ways my life remains unchanged. However, I am about to arrive at a crucible of change, where although from the outside everything looks the same, I feel myself at the cusp of big transitions and it feels far from the same, knowing that life will soon be looking very different.
In just a few weeks I will be disembarking from my old and familiar way of life. The one that kept me housed and safe, and the one that contained my identity for 20 years, and I shall soon be taking my first steps as  Mrs Wall in a new home. From the outside looking in, its not a big deal. After all, I'm hardly moving to Timbuktu, when all I am doing is moving from one side of the village to the other.
But when factoring all the other things in my life that are shifting and slipping away, I feel at times completely discombobulated. I keep reminding myself to release and let go, but it is hard and sometimes painful.
I look at my old cat pleading with him to let go too. A recent trip to the vets confirmed my feelings that he will not be fit enough to make the move. I am loathed to make the decision for him, especially as at this present time, he is finding simple pleasures by sleeping in the sun during the day, and then on my pillow at night. He might be blind and infirm, but he is not quite knocking at deaths door just yet. I remember when he first walked into my life over 13 years ago just a scrap of a thing. He strolled through my flat and promptly made himself at home above my cupboards for the next few months, until one day he felt safe enough to walk on the floor. He never left and became a good companion for my other stray cat I had at the time. He then became a guide for my blind Spaniel and now he has reached the ripe old age of 18+. Time flies.

In other areas of my life, it is looking very likely that my dementia gentleman I have been looking after for nearly 2 years, will be moving into a brand new Care home around the same time as I move. It is of course, a move not taken lightly by his family and has been an extremely hard decision for all concerned. This will mean another farewell to add to the mix. And I know I wont be the only carer who will miss his company when he goes. Love comes in all forms.

I have also witnessed how so many people hold onto belongings and I have seen first hand how difficult it is once they depart, for those left behind to clear their home of decades worth of stuff. It makes me more conscious than ever, that holding onto material things serves only to weigh us down. So as I prepare to make my own move, I have been clearing and sorting through years of my own possessions. In doing this process, I have decided to leave my Spaniels, Donut and Summers ashes buried in the garden. For the past two years they have sat on my shelf and I had always believed that they would go to the grave with me. But that's the thing about making a conscious decision on letting go. One arrives at a place where choices are made that weren't available before, perhaps because of either emotional or physical blockages. Or maybe the two go hand in hand. Once the emotional obstacles are cleared the physical path becomes clear too and vice versa.

And finally, to add a cherry on top of this merry mixture of letting go's I am entering the phase of a woman's life where hormones can potentially reek havoc. Perimenopause has been making the headlines a bit more these days thanks to personalities such as Davina McCall. Thankfully I have been getting successful support from Homeopathy and a healthy lifestyle. But it can still take me by surprise from time to time, as with all aspects of health, it is a constant work in progress. For me, this can mean emotions can take over, sometimes irrational and unexplainable. Night sweats as well as other strange irregular bodily functions can  take place. It is not all bad and I manage them. But it is yet another change on top of all the others.
When I arrived on the farm at the tender age of 26, in Archetypal representations, I was still a Maiden. During the 20 year period, I then became a Mother to my animals and I gave birth to my artistic side as I continued to nurture my creativity. And now, as I approach my Crone years. I see myself on the threshold of something even bigger. As I stand at the doorway from the old into the new, I wonder how the next chapter in life will unfold. I count my blessings everyday, knowing too well, that nothing in life is guaranteed, as I witness good friends of mine living and dying with terminal illnesses. Too young to die - and yet here we are. Life can be cruel.

The date of my wedding day was no accident. I announced to my Fiancé at Christmas time that we should be married in 6 months, I told him that I wanted the people I care about still alive to witness our marriage. It was also no coincidence that it was held on a most auspicious date, not only because it was my 47th birthday but it being Midsummers day. I have always considered it to be a magical and mystical time of year. What better time then, to set ourselves off on a brand new adventure surrounded by love and joyful celebrations shared by not only our friends and family, but with the whole village too. 
So as I begin to unfurl my wings, with my heart wide open, I am learning to reach an acceptance that everything must and will change. Goodbyes are inevitable.
One-day if fate allows, I will become that 'Crone', channelling her wisdom and inner knowing. And I shall wear my crown unabashedly, transforming the world in my wake.
In other words, my life's mission will be as it was always intended, 'Creative Community Collaborator'.
And Quirky Cow Creations will live on, just at a different address.
Meanwhile, it is ok to be both sad and excited. As I am recently finding out, these feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive to one another. 

  

It's only a ring!

“It’s only a ring”, I kept saying to my fiancé as we were discussing the budget for our wedding rings. As far as we were concerned, the much-needed renovation to our future home prioritized over some potentially expensive items of significance, when copper pipe would do just the job we joked.

As human beings, we put so much meaning into things. From possessions to thoughts, to even the way other people respond to us, when really, these ideas are formed from our own perspectives, belief systems and past experiences. We are conditioned from the very moment we are born. So why should it matter so much?
And this was the very question I asked myself as we walked away from a particular jeweller's shop in town last weekend.
Earlier that week, we had agreed to go shopping for our rings. Having already decided that we would eventually put money aside and commission a friend to make them as an anniversary gift to each other, in the meantime, we would look for something within our current budget for our wedding ceremony.
After passing two very high-end looking jewellers and then one very tacky, we finally settled on a shop with an assistant who welcomed us in with a warm smile.
She very quickly sized us up and laid out a selection of rings to choose from.
Steve chose his ring straight away. The ring I really liked was out of our price range, so we went away to have a discussion.
By my own omission. I hadn’t appreciated how much emotional charge I had for the very act in wearing a wedding ring and it was only in the middle of the high street that I was enlightened by this fact and chose that very moment to unintentionally burst into tears.
I have never been one to cry easily. (Admittedly Peri-menopausal hormones seem to have put pay to that and more recently, the tears seem to flow more readily and at times, rather unnervingly quite out of the blue) But nonetheless, in that moment tears welled up to the point where Steve who was on a mission to find somewhere to eat, was stopped in his tracks quite perplexed by my emotional outburst and being delayed in his mission to fill his belly.
And so there it was, a heartfelt conversation ensued in the middle of the high street on what it meant to me to wear such a symbolic piece of jewellery that was to be presented to me by my husband, whilst at the same time, acknowledging that it is only a ritual and the main act being the exchanging of rings was a symbolism of our love and commitment to one another and it shouldn’t matter what price tag it comes with. So with all this in mind, I had to admit to both myself and to Steve, that actually some things in my view, were worth more value when I felt a price tag to match was attached.
Of course, it is all relative and what value I put on something may be completely different to somebody else’s. In my world, money would be obsolete. I would bring back bartering, live more frugally and appreciate the simple things in life. So, I realize that I have completely contradicted myself by expressing the desire for a more expensive ring when as we agreed earlier, a piece of copper pipe would suffice.
So given all the complex feelings I had around said ring, my already overwhelmed mind, then went on to procrastinate on the ethical sourcing of metals. Sensing a full-on meltdown was imminent, we decided to return to the jewellers and agree on my first (and pricier) option of ring.
In fairness though, the particular ring I liked, felt nicer to hold, it exuded sturdiness whilst at the same time, dainty to look at. The next options down felt flimsy. A marriage should not be flimsy let alone a ring.
On returning to the shop, and as if the universe was overhearing our honest and open discussion earlier and I’d like to think, appreciating the authenticity and awareness of what it is to be human with all its complexities and idiocies, it acted through the lovely assistant by giving us a discount which as it happened came to our initial budget.
What is the lesson for this experience I wonder? Maybe it's just accepting that none of us can be perfect despite how hard we try. That is not to say we shouldn’t stop trying, but maybe it is ok to allow ourselves to enjoy the more frivolous side of life. Maybe it is just me. I shouldn’t keep giving myself a hard time. Existing in this world is hard enough at times without the constant berating of oneself. We can but do our best, knowing that occasionally even our best isn’t always good enough and that is ok.
And if one is religiously inclined, quite frankly, it will be our God that sits at the judgement table when it is our time to die and nobody else's.

In the meantime, I love and accept myself anyway…

Moving on...

 

Everybody likes a good story, right?

Imagine if you will, the most beautiful, exquisitely tactile storybook cover you have ever come across. Run your hands along the front and you will feel the threaded beads and sequins that have been lovingly added to over the years. They glitter and sparkle as the light hits upon the front, ricocheting rainbows beams far and wide. You can’t help but hold it tightly and lovingly to your heart.

This particular book cover contains pages upon pages of words and they dance upon the paper like spells, conjuring up magic and mystery for all who step into the tales of the Quirky Cow.

The storyline has its main character and like all good books, it has a beginning, a middle and at some point, as the law of life dictates, an end.

The general plot has its tragedies, adversities, and its triumphs. And there are stories within stories woven together with love and gratitude.

This book is a biography, and for the purpose of this particular chapter, the readers are not required to know about the contents of said book. That can be saved for another day.

What is most pressing for the writer to convey in this moment, is the special and unique way the pages have been held together with careful stitching and meticulous gluing over the years. Some pages are torn and stained, but they only add to the charm. The book cover is well thumbed, acting as a comforter during challenging times. It contains all the knowledge and the wisdom the author has learnt over the years and has become as familiar as a faithful old friend.  Breathing in the smell as I thumb through the pages reminds me of how far I have come and how far I have evolved.

But as with all things in life, and just like a good book, they must come to an end and as difficult as it may be. One must let go.

As the author, I need to express that this ending was unexpected, and I was unprepared. Somehow, in my naivety, the story was to continue in the manner and style I have always been accustomed to, and I did not feel ready to end in the way it has happened. Marriage and weddings and home sharing were never jotted down in my most recent draft. Striving out alone, living unorthodoxly, tenaciously creating magic single-handedly, proving to the world that anything is possible, however, was.

I never imagined that finding true love would change the course of time. Indeed, writing a romantic novel certainly was the furthest from my mind.

So now, despite my resistance, a thread has been broken and it is only now that it dawns on me, it was because of my resistance, that the carefully sewn stitches finally snap and starts to unravel my precious book. All the painstakingly pieced together pages fall apart.

Initially, I grappled about desperately holding on to my precious manuscript for dear life. I thought I could see the life that I knew ebbing rapidly away. But as I breathe deeply, I allow myself to let go in peace and relinquish the false belief that I have things in my control, in each breath, I discover that all may not be lost. Pages have not flown away lost forever in the ether, but rather they are retained cozily within their colourfully stitched indexes.

My well-worn book cover has loosened its binding enough to make room for new pages. I shall miss the familiarity and the comfort of my old book cover. I came to identify myself with it. Who am I without it?

But as I sit with the pain of letting go, I slowly become aware that the essence of who I am is within the pages and not their bounded cover. I discover, some of its vibrant colour have bled through some pages. Forever immortalized by transmuting energy from which it was created, into the new.

There will still be times when I weep and feel bereft for what once was. But I shall remember the old times and as with any good author, I will continue to write and weave my magic. This time, not as a solo dreamer, but inspired and motivated by my muse, my future husband, and so from our dreams together, a new volume will arise, updated and fresh.

The stories will rewrite themselves, filled with even more love and gratitude. Together we will collaborate and create a brand-new cover that will lovingly cradle our dreams and our visions, we will be invincible, and our book will be indestructible.

My book cover does not define my identity. The contents inside are what matters.

March 2023

Preserving Life

 Most of us go about our daily lives to preserve them. We are fortunate enough in the UK to have free access to medical and dental care. We undertake routine smear tests, and breast and prostate examinations and currently we have been rolling out Vaccinations for Covid and Flu as part of the routine procedures to help prolong our life.
In addition to all of this, many of us choose to look after our health through, exercise, eating well, not smoking or drinking to excess etc.
Those who are lucky enough to be in a position to be financially able, may also choose to go to the gym, join mediation classes, breathwork, or yoga etc. We could also choose to see a Nutritionist, Acupuncture, a Herbalist, the list goes on.
There is a whole array of techniques and practices we can utilise to help keep us in tip top condition. If only the NHS could be better funded to allow for everyone to access more holistic practices that focus on the idea of homeostasis, (viewing the body as a whole living system rather than just symptom's alone) Perhaps we would find our society in a better place, not only physically but mentally and emotionally too.
Because lets not forget, fear and stress are the biggest factors in lowering the immune system. 

Medical intervention is not right for everyone. And for those who are informed and feel confident enough to give consent, it is not uncommon to use both holistic and conventional practices at the same time, the two are not mutually exclusive, though of course, some may opt for just one or the other, or even nothing at all. It is their choice.

There are many reasons why people do not get vaccinated. One of them could be that the fear of becoming sick or dying from getting vaccinated far outweighs the fear of becoming ill from a virus itself. 
Just because our fears may differ, it does not make them less real, valid or true. We are all trying to do our best in extra-ordinary circumstances.
Some people may be extremely sensitive to drugs. For those people, they may make an educated and balanced decision to decline the vaccination until more conclusive evidence is made available. And then when doing so, perhaps many will be enquiring as to the integrity of such findings.
Others may have witnessed members of their family undergo traumatic adverse reactions to a vaccine or have even experienced it themselves. And when i say this, I dont mean a just sore arm and flu like symptoms for a day or two. I mean the kind that land you in a situation where you or a loved one are calling the emergency services, praying that its not too late.
Similarly, one may have developed life changing side affects and do not wish to take any such risk again. As someone who has been injured through a low risk procedure, these are very real concerns for many.
Some may choose to look at the data and decide that taking a gamble on a medical procedure that has no guarantee of preventing one from spreading it or catching it, is too much of a high stake, when no medical intervention can ever be without a risk.
Life is full of risks Dying is inevitable. Perhaps we should be looking at what constitutes a good death as well as a good life and maybe, just maybe we can begin to hold conversations around how we can begin to empathise and accept another persons medical decisions.
All I know is that there is far too much anger and resentment towards one another. The current climate means that any conversation of an alternative narrative quickly gets shut down.
There is fear on all sides. All are justified and no less or no more equal than another.
I see members of my own community quite willing to segregate one another on the basis of a vaccine status. I am saddened to see our society breaking down through personal choices. Of course, we must accept the consequences, but to be living under the threat of being barred from a large proportion of everyday life including shopping. How can this be a reasonable action in the twenty first century when the vaccinated are no less dangerous than the unvaccinated? 
We should preserve life of course, but at what cost? It is worth noting that it has already been reported that there has been a surge of non Covid related deaths. We seem to have forgotten our rationale and humanity.
How far are we willing to go? Because the way we are heading, life isn't going to be worth fighting for if we are no longer able to accept one another's differences.

Gratitude

'We should be grateful', is a phrase bantered about a lot these days.
 I get the sentiment. We can all be guilty of being morose from time to time. Being grateful for the small mercies, gives us perspective in that moment in time. It can remind us that things aren't always that bad.

However, I am becoming increasingly aware that this phrase to justify our privilege is getting used without awareness. It has become insidious.

By this I mean, it is all too easy to brush off very current and very real concerns. By telling somebody that they should be grateful is completely invalidating that persons concerns.
To be grateful, suggests that there must be a lack for someone else.
In this current climate, where the net is drawing tighter and tighter with regards to our freedom and liberty, to attempt to raise any kind of concern that things are not as they were, and then to be told we should be grateful for what we have, is not conducive to making a conscious change.
It allows us to become complacent and it breeds apathy.
How can we begin to strive for greater achievements and to do better in society when we are constantly shut down by being told we should be grateful for our lot? 

It is of course, scientifically proven that to express gratitude everyday re-wires the brain, causing chemical changes to help us towards positive thinking.
Counting our blessings is a good thing. To be in gratitude reminds us to be in the present.
However, what if we are without food, or shelter, what if we are quite literally in fight or flight mode how does it feel to acknowledge that there are indeed many thousands in this very position now? How then, can we be in gratitude and at peace knowing that others are going without?  What can our gratitude possibly bring to the table?
So I will contest gratitude. Not because I do not believe that it works, but because I need to keep it real.
Perhaps we can do better than to be in gratitude.
Perhaps we can dive deeper into the realms of love and connection. Gratitude feels too materialistic. Gratitude is feeling safe and comfortable, how can it be felt otherwise? If we are not feeling those things, then surely we are merely bypassing? How can we possibly feel gratitude in times of strife and by strife, I mean do or die...
One could argue that love and gratitude comes hand in hand. that is as may be. Perhaps feeling gratitude leads us onto the path of love. But is it possible that gratitude detaches us from one another? I am ok. (but you may not be?)
Gratitude feels conditional. Love, And I mean real love is not.
'To Be Love'. Is to be free.
So this is where I am at. I still have periods of feeling overwhelmed, fearful and frustrated for my fellow beings.
I am grateful for my health, the food on my plate, the air that I breathe and for so many things. But these do not bring me peace. Love however, does.
Love is to understand that we are so much more than this.
To understand that we are all connected through our higher consciousness no matter what our stance we take in this life. That is love. It is unabashed and unafraid.
We are all made of energy matter. In this energy field we are all interconnected.
So what do you bring to the table with your gratitude if this is what you practice? What changes can be made with our expressions of gratitude?

What tone?

When there are so many views. so many fears, so much anguish, it is often hard to keep a lid on the frustrations. I am not suggesting that we should reciprocate with the same energy. Nor am I condemning those who do. But it is just as unhelpful when one reacts by attempting to moderate the perpetrator, or indeed condescend and belittle them. Here is my response to it all.

 What tone do I need to take when I talk about my real lived experience?

What tone would you like to hear when I need to express my grief and anguish for the atrocities committed against humanity?

What tone do I use to help you feel more comfortable so that you may hear my uncomfortable truths?

What tone will keep you feeling safe when I speak of the injustices of the world?

What tone can I use, for us to acknowledge that all the pain and the suffering never stemmed from a place of love, and to be so moved and incensed, we make it end.

Don't condone my tone, but hear my words instead.

Because if you truly listened, you would hear the passion,the conviction and the love I hold true and dear to my heart.

That. My dear. Is Love.

TOF awareness week

I want to write about a little known Congenital Condition called Tracheo-oesophageal fistula. TOF for short.
Around one in 3500 babies are born with the condition and in many cases, babies born with it can also feature a condition called Vacterl which is the acronym made up of the first letters of the 7 main clinical problems that make up the condition. You can find more information Here.

What authority do I have on the subjects? You may ask. Probably no more than anyone else who was born with these issues. And like any health condition, we all have the potential to experience them very differently.

I feel very fortunate in that as an adult, I have not experienced symptoms that have been detrimental to the quality of my life. I do still experience the very distinctive 'TOF Cough' after eating. I have to take my time to allow food to go down with the aid of water, otherwise it results in considerable discomfort and shortness of breath due to the constrictions from weak cartilage. Over-eating is a big no no, resulting in reflux but apart from those rare glutenous occasions, I rarely suffer from it. I also have bowel issues, in so far as that if I need to go. I have to GO! But this can be managed through diet. I guess I have experienced a few challenges and would like to share my story in the aim that it may help to reassure anyone else living with TOF and Vacterl into their more mature years.

I was born in June 1976. 2 weeks overdue. My mother was induced and I was forceps delivery at Winchester hospital. 45 years ago, very little was known about the condition, but they soon detected something was very wrong when I choked on the milk I was given. I was rushed to Southampton and I wasn't to leave until 6 months later. Maybe I could have left a lot earlier had I not contracted Salmonella from another sick baby brought into the same ward. As you can imagine, this did not help in my recovery.
I don't have any recollection of how ill I was, but what I do remember to this day, are memories of my NDE's (Near death experiences)
Perhaps this is where I am unusual. I do not take kindly to anyone giving me limitations on what I can achieve in life. Even as a very young child, I would defy the medical health professional's. For I have seen and experienced how expansive and powerful we can all be as individuals.
Somewhere along the line, many moons ago, we seem to have lost our sovereignty and handed over our autonomy to other people just because they have letters next to their names.
I remember being given the choice to live or die. I remember choosing life and I was immediately sucked back into my body.
Up until around the age of 9-10 I would struggle with numerous chest infections and Bronchitis.
I had a scan on my kidneys which determined that I had one much smaller than the other.
I have a noticeable wonky thumb that no kid would hold my hand because of it and I have a deaf ear and was always getting ear infections that made me completely deaf at times. I compensated through life by learning to read faces and lips. 

I believe I am here for a reason. Perhaps its to let anyone who is open-hearted and curious enough to read and hear my story, to take inspiration and to begin, if they haven't already, to unravel their own story and to explore and challenge their own beliefs and any limitations they may bring them.
I want to express how I appreciate the people in the medical field. For without science and research, I would not be here today. But equally, it is important to understand that they are still humans and like us all, biased through their own lenses. Mistakes happen because of it;
Notably three years ago, when I went for a routine operation to help improve my hearing. Vacterl has given me skeletal abnormalities. Scoliosis is one, a pair of extra thumbs are another.(Removed when I was 2 years old)
I have never had a full body scan other than an X-ray on my foot when I suddenly became unable to walk on it in my late twenties, where we found bones fused together. With practice and exercise, I retrained my feet and have not since had a problem. But there could be many more undiscovered malformations.
Another abnormality which I do now know, is in my ear. My main facial nerve is running completely in the wrong place to compensate for the inner ear deformity. Unfortunately it meant that my unprepared surgeon, severed the nerve resulting me to have facial palsy. Consequently I had emergency surgery a week later to have nerves grafted on and it took two years for me to regain movement. However, the end of last year, I experienced sudden paralysis again due to a condition called Bells Palsy, three months on, with perseverance and exercise, I am gradually regaining strength and movement once again.  
I want to be open with you all and say that this journey has not always been pain free, nor has it been easy and at times, I have felt scared. But like many of us living with challenges, we adapt, we learn and we forge on. I listen to my intuition. But a word of caution. We have to truly understand and know ourselves deeply. Sometimes, fear can masquerade as our intuition and fool us into believing that it is protecting us when all it is really doing, is preventing us to live our lives. There is a difference if you dig deep and listen carefully but only we can know for ourselves, no one else can tell you that.
For me, I see Intuition as a light guiding me the way. It can sound like a crystal clear voice that calls me out from the monkey brain chatter, and it can feel like a breath of fresh air that fills my stale lungs. This all takes practice and self-awareness. I am still learning, still evolving. I still get angry and frustrated and upset. People make life complicated. I can make life complicated! 
But Art and Creativity helps me process my thoughts and brings me clarity. I practice in Breath-work and meditation and I am trained in EFT (Emotional Freedom Tapping) and Matrix Re-imprinting, Reiki and Energy healing and I'm training as a Conscious Health Coach which supports the ethos in 7 steps, by taking ownership of our own health. Looking at how our perceptions got us to this point. Understanding what triggers us, learn to interpret what it means to us and then eventually to manage, understand and sustain our own health
As well as gardening, I run Art workshops to support people in realizing and reaching their own potential. Find what works for you. We are on this earth for such a short period of time. I wish I could show you what I could see (from my heart) all those years ago. How infinitely powerful we are. Don't give up.
For anyone still uncertain of my words, then ask yourself; What would be the consequences of living the most healthiest life you could possibly imagine. What could you achieve and what would that mean to you?

Cocooned in Grief

It feels like I have been under some kind of permanent cloud of late. I have moments of clarification before being plunged into a dense, heavy fog again.
The heaviness is down to having 4 family dogs dying in quick succession, a close friend die and  witnessing the deterioration of a dying member of the family.
My own dogs demise however, was inevitable and I was fortunate enough to have that time together where I was able to prepare myself, but nonetheless, when my last one died at age 15, two weeks ago, I wasn't quite prepared for the huge void that she has left behind. I hadn't realised I had pinned much of my identity on my Springer Spaniels, so when they went I was suddenly confronted with an identity crisis. Who am I without dogs? I am not a mother. I am not a wife or a homeowner. I don't even own a flash car. I have been unable to run my art workshops this last year. All the things we tend to hold on to, to help create a sense of who we are, no longer exist. To impound issues further, I have began my perimenopause journey. Although a perfectly normal process that happens, it does prompt further deep questions. Who can I become when options and opportunities are taken away either through natural progression or forcefully What does all this mean to me?

And so with this in mind an opening is created. My heart has been cracked wide open. At first I was exploring all the ways to fill the hole. Like getting another dog. Fostering kids, buying a camper-van. Buying land, blowing my savings to achieve that instant buzz. I have always been someone who can be spontaneous. Act now, think later. But I quickly realised that still in my grief, I became overwhelmed so any thoughts for a life changing decision has been put on the back burner. And besides. What if we limited ourselves from such distractions? What then? Who would be be? What would be become?

Life is full of uncertainties at the moment. In our search for meaning, a sense of control and an avoidance of death we have in effect put a hold on all our lives.
As I choose to allow the waves of my own grief to wash over me which by the way grab hold at the most unexpected and inappropriate of moments that force me to take a moment alone in my local town to weep for a couple of minutes, shocking onlookers at the rawness of my emotion;
But when I give myself permission to take those precious moments, I can keep the energy moving through, knowing that in just a couple of minutes I would be feeling right as rain and smiling again. If I hold onto the energy (Emotion = Energy in motion) because its not appropriate or the right time, it becomes stuck and as each stale emotion becomes more stagnant the harder it is for me to release.
So I have learned to embrace my emotions and to feel OK to be cocooned in grief.  For it is only when I re-emerge from each wave, a light is turned on, guiding me the way back to life. It is and always has been about the circle of life.
Nothing lasts forever and through art and literature, perhaps we can all start to become brave enough to face our own mortality. Because after all, to avoid death, is to avoid life itself.

I think this short video may help to verbalize my thoughts further.

Farewell

 

I can't say I wasnt pleased to see the back of last year. On top of the global event's I lost my eldest dog, my partners dog and a close friend from the village.
But saying my farewells to 2020 felt like I was leaving them all behind and it feels like the distance between us is growing further and further away. I have to remind myself, time and space is just an illusion, A human made construct. All there really was and is, is Love.........I miss their physical presence, but understanding that in the energy sense, they never truly went away, I am able to bring them near whenever I think of them.

I'm sure like many of us, we hold hopes for a brighter future and never has the beginning of a new year been given so much pressure to prove its worth  now.
I entered this year with trepidation. My expectations for life have been diminished greatly by current limitations. But that's ok. As I reflect on last year, I realised, despite everything, I was still able to meet some new and interesting people who have now become firm friends.
I experienced my first Sound bath and Demonstration. I had a great Birthday gathering that took form as an adventure treasure trail all in the great outdoors followed by an amazing vegetarian curry from all the veg grown in my garden. - I love how food brings people together.
I held an Art Exhibition open to the whole village in a neighbours beautiful garden with drinks and cake. What a stunning evening it was too! One couldn't have wished for a more quintessential Summers evening. And speaking of the village, I organised for our community to get together in the Autumn and help plant another thousand Daffodil bulbs around our Avenue of Remembrance. If there is one legacy I leave behind to be proud of, that will be it.
 I have been training as a Conscious Health Coach which will see me qualified in the Spring of this year. And before the year was almost out, I received a late request to take on a painted commission and finally, an exchange of emails between myself and the surgeon who severed my facial nerve that has given closure to the both of us.
All these achievements were through no control of mine other than the initial email I sent to the surgeon.
Simply by just 'Being', life was still able to unfold through surprising twists and turns and in many ways, perhaps even better than had I tried to influence and control things,
My biggest lesson last year was to truly understand how stress and beliefs around events has a detrimental affect on the body.
Although last year brought many gifts, I still had times of feeling angry and frustrated. I allowed them to seep into my core Most of the time, I was able to utilize the energy for the greater good. This is where creating art has always been my saviour. But after my friend died, suddenly I found myself at a complete loss, walking a terrain I had never walked on, alone and adrift. my motto had always been to face up to my fears, but in the face of adversity, I literally lost my face. At least half of it through paralysis and once more, I find myself in a position of relearning to use my muscles all over again.
This time, I will value my health and my body even more. 

I don't know what 2021 will bring, I dont know what I want to do or achieve. But what I do know is how I want to feel and that is down to me how I choose to respond to life. I do not give permission for any external source to influence my inner peace and joy. This is an ongoing lesson of course. But one I hope I am understanding the older I become. They do say, wisdom comes with age.....

Regeneration

Last month I received what felt like at the time a devastating blow to both my health and my self esteem.

I had been in a similar position two and a half years previously after waking up from surgery with Facial Palsy when my main facial nerve, technically known as the 7th Cranial Nerve that controls the face muscles and taste was accidentally severed. 
It had taken 2 years of physio exercises to regain control (though not fully) of the right side of my face, only for it to be all taken away from me within minutes.
Those minutes all took place on a weekday evening. 3 days prior, I had been experiencing a headache followed by intense earache. I put it down to an emotional few weeks and continued working.
But come one evening as I sat down about to eat my dinner, I suddenly realized I could no longer blink, quickly followed by a sensation of helplessness and panic, unable to move my face and the side of my mouth. In less than ten minutes, I was almost back to how I had been immediately after surgery, only this time the paralysis was accompanied by substantial pain, as if the whole of the side of my face had been punched and kicked and was coming out in a bruise. 
Sufficed to say, I couldn't eat my dinner that night and a phone call to see the doctor the very next morning led to a hospital visit to see my neurology consultant that afternoon.
After thorough examination, he diagnosed me with Bells Palsy symptoms. I was devastated.
Unlike last time. This time, even though I knew what to expect in the realms of how to recover and what to do, it has become even more pertinent how our lives, our communities and our society have changed.
 Last time, my strategies were to continue with the events I had planned that Summer. Like Morris Dancing, Singing, Camping, meeting friends. going to festivals and art shows. My resources were Physio sessions, Massage, Cranial Sacral treatment. EFT, hugs and my dogs.
This time round, everything I had available to me have gone. My dog, dancing, singing. Any social engagement. I can't even access the treatments that I would like to support me in my recovery. If I were to strictly adhere to the rules, even hugging would be off the  table. This time round, I am very much alone. Creating solutions to aid my healing process is much harder when the world I exist in with the people that inhabit it, are afraid to be near me, let alone touch me. When so many are under the illusion that we are doing our bit to protect one another. To save each other from a virus. I, like countless others are  not feeling saved or protected. We are left to struggle to find our own way with little resources to hand and little support. Emotionally and practically.
This is not the end of me though. Like a phoenix rising from the flames, rise I will, stronger than ever before. 
For the past few months, I have been training to be a Conscious Health Coach with Sam Thorpe This most recent experience has certainly highlighted and brought to my awareness the importance of maintaining balance at all levels of consciousness from Brainstem, Cerebelum and Cortex brain layers.
I am understanding even more that our body doesn't make mistakes, but rather, creates strategies and adaptations according to the meaning we give to our emotions and experiences we have throughout our lives. Every behaviour and every physical adaptation has a function and a purpose and that is to protect us and to evolve us. It is when they begin to cause us discomfort or they no longer serve us, that we may wish to be released from such limitations and this can be done by unraveling the many layers we form by our beliefs and perceptions that we learn from inheritence conditioning and experiences.

Right now, we live in uncertain times, but they are also exciting ones. And when I reach a level of peace through meditation, breathe work and in my creating space. I can let go of my frustrations, my anger and my heartache and I can become the person I came here to be and fulfill my life purpose. Who else is curious enough to join me on a journey of self discovery?
Like the three Wise men as told in the Nativity, if we can learn more about ourselves let go of judgement, perhaps we can all grow wiser and share our wealth of knowledge, gifts, skills and talents. How amazing would the world be?!

LIfe goes on

As we find ourselves in our second stint of lockdown in the UK. I have once again found myself battling with an array of mixed emotions. Just as I felt we were turning a corner on how we could choose to spend our time in various places with the people we enjoy spending time with, the government in its wisdom tell us to lockdown again. 

I am enraged. None of it makes any kind of sense. Any independent free thinking critical mind can see this. Following on from the rage, is confusion, surely if it worked last time, then why again? And if it didn't work last time, then why are we doing it again now?
But as I try to comprehend such measures, my heart is also aching. I lost a dear friend from my village. As I still grapple with the shock of such a loss because of course, this was the friend I confided in, the friend who listened to me without judgment, the friend I created mischief with. The friend who really 'saw me'. My problem solving brain tries to find solutions for the new terrain I am now walking on; Alone without her. My wing-man has gone and yet, if I still my mind for long enough, I feel her essence, memories are still fresh, I can hear her voice, her mischievous laugh and I ask her what she would do in these present times?
The answer lies in the phrase of 'Life is too short'. My friend had much to live for, but it was cut short. She didn't appreciate the last lockdown, choosing to live as hard as her weakening body allowed. We continued to hug, hold hands, cry, laugh, gossip and plan. Nothing could hold us back, not even the Government and it's rules. We didn't know how long we had. None of us do. I wonder if we all knew we would die tomorrow or next week, whether our decisions would be different?

As I tentatively begin to take small steps into my village and its community on my own, my first community engagement took place today. A fortnight before the threat of another lockdown was mentioned, I ordered 500 Daffodil bulbs to plant on the Avenue of Remembrance. The troops were gathered to help and a date was penciled in, then Lockdown happened. I was determined more than ever to get the task complete with or without the support. Spring Bulbs would not wait for anyone or any virus. And Lord knows, we all need a bit of a cheer come Springtime even if it comes in the form of bright yellow dancing daffodils.
Finally after initial resistance from individuals, I reaffirmed that under the Volunteer and Charitable sector, what we would be doing was not illegal. And even if it was, I had made my stance clear that I wasn't afraid to be arrested for the cause. I had the backing from many people and am pleased to say, we had around 25-30 people come and help. The sun was shining down on us and the banter flowed, just as it always does between fellow villagers. As I stood witnessing the comradeship, I felt blessed and lucky to be alive. My only disappointment being that on mentioning the possibility of going for a well deserved pint in the pub afterwards, I was swiftly reminded that all pubs were closed. Village pubs we miss you!

It's funny how the day in the life of a country village girl goes. On returning home, my next task was to finish off two paintings I created in honour of my friend. She loved Sunflowers and when she was alive, one of our greatest joys was to decorate the back of the Church for all the festivals.
We were living proof that Telepathy was real. The number of times we would both come up with a new creation on the same sleepless night and on comparing notes the next day, we discover they were almost identical. Every year we challenged ourselves to create more elaborate displays than the previous one.
This time, I have made an offering with the paintings and as I walked up to hang them in position I see that her grave has been dug, it brings it all back home, she's never coming back. From thinking about life and the future of newly planted bulbs we had just scattered, full of promised full of life itself and then I arrive in the lap of death in the same morning. A finality, a completion, the reaching of its full circle.
I am more determined than ever to make her legacy live on. Her legacy to me, being that every moment is worth fighting for, to remain independent, joyful and free.
She ran out of steam, but I will pick up where she left off. Life is precious, Lockdown or not, my drive to make every minute of everyday count will be my farewell gift to her. after all, None of us know when we may draw our last breath. 

Fear

 

You have only to look at my face to know that even the most highly trained and skilled expert in their field can get things wrong. My intuition warned me. Unfortunately, I didn’t take heed of the warning bells my body was giving me, opting to listen to my surgeon because naively I believed he knew better than me.

Fast forward to today, we have many experts all exclaiming to have the right answers, all armed with varying information contradicting one another.
Facts and figures muddy the waters and statistics are only relevant when the full context is understood. Context is a rare commodity these days. 

I’m not interested in what you perceive to be right or wrong. There is such a thing as information bias.
What I am interested in though, is what is driving your fear. Is it the fear of illness or dying? or the suffering or loss of our loved ones?
Could it be the fear of breaking the law or the disobedience of others around you?           
We all have our fears, all of them just as valid as the next persons.           

My fears are witnessing and experiencing the divisions these rules are creating. The polarity of sides, depending on the stance we take. I fear the name calling which only serve to create an even greater divide.
I fear the wall of masked faces when I go out.
As human beings, our brains subconsciously read facial expressions as social cues to carefully gauge how we proceed with one another, it only takes the most fleeting & subtlest of movements to determine how we choose to respond to someone which can lead to deeper connections. (Or not)
Interconnections keep us safe. I do not feel safe. Being hard of hearing only exasperates the situation. I cannot hear you and now I cannot see you.

I was born with a congenital condition, so I understand what it is to live with disabilities. Those who don’t know me, would never know I have battled with health conditions throughout my life. Most people living with disabilities, hidden or not, will tell you how we can adapt and overcome without the need to label ourselves. I fear that the current situation has forced us into a corner where we are made to label ourselves so that we may be accepted in society unmasked. 

I am afraid of the confrontation I have had to endure. The complete ignorance from even the most well-meaning of folk. To the ones who tell you that mask wearing ‘isn’t that difficult’…….And yet, for those living with conditions such as facial palsy like myself, where nerves have been damaged and features remain frozen in time and in some area’s even collapsed and at times painful, perhaps you might think twice too?

I am bereft of the loss and closure of institutions, charities and organisations within my community. The huge changes that have prohibited the most fundamental aspects of what brings a village together. Not even knowing when it will all end. Will it end? I am more scared of not knowing than the very thing that is preventing us from living fully and joyfully.               

I am not ready to die, but it feels like part of me already has. I am uncertain of how I may serve my community with the challenges we are facing. I am floundering. And as I walk around my village, I am reminded of all the things we achieved together. All the community initiatives and schemes I started or took part in, despite my alternative views that perhaps go against the mainstream narrative, I remind myself that even if I go against the grain, I am not a bad person.                

And speaking of dying matters, perhaps my differing ideas to life and death is due to the very reason that I have experienced death. NDE (Near Death Experience) is very real. It is the one thing I am not afraid of. I will go as far as saying it is easier than living, especially in today’s world.
And as it stands, today's society is increasingly becoming one that I feel like I do not belong in.      

Life however will go on. It is worth noting though, that we are so much more than the shell of our body that we inhabit and all the time I am in mine, I shall continue to live my life to the full, no one has permission to tell me how to live it. Please allow me to make my own risk assessments with my family and my friends. It is not my job on this earth to be responsible for your health, nor is it indeed yours to protect mine.
I made a vow to myself two years ago after surgery to always take heed of my intuition. It is my body after all. Only I know what is best for me, not anyone else.
Call me selfish. But I say being selfish is allowing people go hungry, dying alone, loss of income and homes, losing people through suicide due to such draconian restrictions, not being allowed to hug or even see our loved ones. Creating abhorrent situations that are committing people to mental institutions. Slowing down and even stopping the admissions of surgery that could ultimately lead to an early demise for some. Depending on your perspective on the world, selfish comes in many forms.

 I do not profess to have the answers and I do not proclaim to be right in my thinking, but once again, no one has permission to tell me that I am wrong when there is so much more at stake than losing lives just over Covid.

Finally, I close this post with the words of Ben Howard. 'The Fear' 

"I been worryin' that my time is a little unclear
I been worryin' that I'm losing the one's I hold dear
I been worryin' that we all live our lives in the confines of fear…"

A Monster Calls

With two months away from reaching my 44^th birthday, I never thought that I would be sitting here experiencing feelings that take me straight back to being 14 again. Feelings of frustration and anger, powerlessness and a sense of inadequacy to cope in a society hell bent on following rules but with a fierce objection in conforming to them. Back then, I released those frustrations by trashing my bedroom and punching walls. Rewind back even further, at 9 years old, I would throw chairs across the library and stones at dinner ladies. I WAS that problem child.

Back to today. My coping strategies during this current social distancing have been to make art. But in the past week, my strength of resolve has all but disappeared. My Bitch mode has warped to factor 10. Those close to me, I have pushed away and last night, I trashed my kitchen. Doing the dishes as it happened pushed me over the edge.

But did you know, anger is a form of trauma response? Fight, flight or freeze. It is in the fight category. Unfortunately, unlike a reaction of anxiety for instance where we can have compassion and understanding for that person, someone who is angry is hard to empathise with. They are also challenging to reason with until the red mist dissipates.
Anger as an energy however, is not an emotion to be shunned or frightened of. We can use it constructively to achieve great things, but the danger lies when it becomes destructive. I have reached that stage.

Under normal circumstances, if I feel like life is getting on top of me, I will go and visit a friend.
Phoning and Zooming, although the next best options are not the same. I need to feel the reassuring warm energy my friends exude and eye to eye contact to let me know that I am not invisible. A hug or a light touch of the hand to symbolize that indeed we are all worthy and validated.
I would perhaps take a drive to the woods and walk my now elderly dogs who cant walk very far but enjoy the settings as much as I do. Sharing that joy with my dogs is healing in itself. I am very aware the Bluebells are out now, and it’s been an annual tradition to take a photo of us all amidst the blue purple clouds. Except this year I feel I can’t without fear of repercussions and reprimand from eagerly awaiting self-appointing members of public policing the very act of taking a drive to the country.
All the strategies I use to keep myself grounded, doing community work and following the village events calendar routine to help enable me to see the people that I care about has all but gone. I am bereft and grieving.

To impound matters even worse there has been so much judgement thrown about over the last month. None of us know what is going on for one another. Not truly.
Were you aware that stress and trauma are one of the biggest factors of making one ill?
Whilst I completely understand that this virus is a very real threat to a lot of people. I for one am not afraid of the virus. – And here’s another thing, anyone telling me I should be scared, clearly don’t know me well. The things I am most scared of, are the very things I will confront head on. I have experienced health challenges over the years. I know what it is like to struggle to breathe, but I also understand that we are far stronger than we are led to believe. Biologyof Belief by Bruce Lipton is a fantastic book, anyone who has an understanding in Epigenetics will know the potential of how strong we can be. We can all be our own personal hero.  However, anyone familiar with NLP will understand that our media is fuelled by fear. Have you noticed the specific fear loaded words, ‘Crisis’ ‘Unprecedented’. ‘Catastrophic’…. The list goes on. Our Neurological pathways are changing from comfort to fear, making us feel helpless and malleable. I am afraid of how compliant we have become without question.

 I consider myself extremely fortunate to live where I am. But the disparity between the wealthy and not so wealthy has become even more evident. While most of us now have financial concerns, loss of jobs leading to loss of homes, local businesses etc. There is another group who are swanning around, having cocktail Zoom parties oblivious to the car crash that is going on around them. I am not saying they are bad people. But the ignorance is outstanding.
I on the other hand have been becoming increasingly angry at the injustice of the system. I run art workshops for young adults with learning disabilities. I know that many of them have been struggling to come to terms with this isolation. And because they lack the tools to be able to process their own feelings, much of our laying of foundations over months and years to help support them in growing their confidence and integration into society has taken a huge step back.

I am frustrated at the way we have suddenly after decades of neglecting the elderly and vulnerable jumped to their aid. Why is it that it takes a crisis that we remember they exist?

I am fearful for the ones who are suffering at the hands of domestic abuse and yet we still like to judge those who choose to be outside cycling, walking, sunbathing!
Isolation and trauma will be the biggest killer not the virus. I honestly believe that.

There is of course a flipside. As well as witnessing the very worst of humanity and injustices within the system. It has awakened in people a new appreciation of what it is to be a community, we have developed a duty of care towards one another. A pull together kind of spirit and the world is beginning to heal from our centuries of abuse.

But this blog post is not about that. Although I have and will continue adhering to the rules as best I can and I will ALWAYS respect peoples own needs, I warn you now, I will be that person pushing the boundaries of what could be deemed as to what's right and what is wrong. I will be pushing peoples buttons. I will be triggered and I will continue to challenge, because I believe in freedom and that death is not the end. But despite all of that, I know I am a good person. I know where I begin and where I end. The Morphic Field is a thing. Your fear is not my fear and that is okay. Mental Health is not always about a label.

So with all due respect. If you see me (or indeed anybody) out in the car or meeting a friend or taking a walk across your land responsibly and respectfully, it maybe because they, like me, need to save them from themselves.
I chose the title after watching the film 'A Monster Calls' It is about a young boy facing up to his monsters/his dark thoughts. It is a brave thing to do but ultimately the only thing we can do in order to live a life we were born for. It's okay to hold conflicting and polarizing ideas and feelings on things, especially during times like these.
My demons are raising their ugly heads, but for the most part, I have the tools to deal with them. I invite everyone to take a long hard look in the mirror and explore the darkness that is reflected within us and learn to understand them because we all have it, it’ll help us to see one another without judgement. However, if you are unable to reach those dark aspects, then turn the other cheek. Resist the judgment calls and the shaming and blaming. Live and let live, for we are all doing the best we can during these most unusual times. We may be in the same storm, but we are not in the same boat.

Namaste. (Which means all that I see in you, is all that I see in me)

NB Its been a week since I typed this. I am feeling more grounded. I realise on reflection that the most fundamental things we all need is to feel safe and validated. Isolation does not feel like a safe response for me. It has the opposite affect. Now that I know this. I have re-framed the process in my head. I still am learning.
I am also hearing so many voices in the sea of social media. Conclusion; They all need validating....... We all need to be loved because at the end of the day, it is only really love that will get us through.