Valentine's Day

I am great a fan of romance and all things that celebrate relationships with the ones you love however I have never managed to find enthusiasm for Valentine's day. To me, one day that celebrates 'love' or 'mothers' or 'fathers' or any of the other named days, simply is not enough.

These gifts are such an intrinsic part of my life that I feel that their importance needs to be celebrated daily in acts of expressions of deep gratitude. Every day I want those I love and who love me to know that they are never forgotten and I appreciate who and what they are in my life.

My experience with Valentines day as I grew up was an easy one as I was one of those blessed ones who received cards every year throughout those important years when your self esteem depends on such acts to develop you into a half-reasonable adult. (I might add here that I still don't think I am one.)

I remember wondering who the anonymous missives were from. I remember watching the envy and jealousy at boarding school and feeling such sadness that so many fearful emotions were attached to one single day that celebrates love. I decided that I did not want to part of it as too many hopes or dreams seemed to be pinned onto a piece of card.

I am blessed with Borneo who tells me he feels the same way. We do not make a big fuss about anniversaries, birthdays or Valentines. We celebrate each other and our loved ones when ever the feeling comes over us on any day it suits us. It happens often and this is so wonderful. The surprises are heart-given and heart-felt. Sometimes they are not surprises at all.

Today was no different to any other day. We went down to our local cafe for breakfast. The atmosphere was electric. It was fully booked with couples gazing deeply into each other's eyes. We caused quite a stir as we sat down. Borneo got out his laptop and I, my knitting.  Later we moved on to newspapers.

At some time we looked up we realised that we were the only ones behaving like this, not paying full attention to each other,  rather sharing conversation when we had something to say. Another couple came in and also read their newspapers. We smiled at each other. It felt as though we were starting a mutual support group.

We enjoyed our food, the quality time spent together, comfortable enough to enjoy companionship whilst being being involved in other activities. It seemed quite scandalous to those around us and there were many strange glances.

As an aside to this, Borneo had a cunning plan to break the the mould this year and he was very clever. You see, on top of Valentine's Day, it is our 30th Wedding Anniversary in a couple of days. So he came home with three dozen beautiful white roses yesterday. He knew he could get away with it because he gave them to me on the day before the day and I really could not say much about it except 'thank you'.

He wants to be quite sure that I understand that he feels more strongly now than he did back then. He is just that kind of sweet wild man of Borneo. So here with these written words, I celebrate his gift to me with you.

Africa

This last week has brought me back to connect with my roots in South Africa. Firstly we watched Silent Witness on television and I was reminded of all the sadness and pain that is still associated with the country of my birth however the scenery of Cape Town brought memories of five happy years, when we lived across the bay from the mountain and breathed in its beauty every day whilst running along lonely beaches with our young son, or walking along its many wondrous trails.

Our daughter was born in this beautiful city. She nearly chose to make her appearance into the world on a long hike up Lion's head three weeks before term. Borneo tried to drag me up the cliff face to the very top and I had dug my heals in, refusing. This was a fortuitous decision because not long after we had turned back we experienced the famous 'table cloth' of clouds that drapes over Table Mountain and Lion's head, leaving us with very obscured vision and a long mist-blinded walk back to the car. It was at this time that I started having labour pains and visions of our child being born on the side of the mountain with the baboons as midwives.


Soon after the birth of a beautiful baby girl, we transferred to Johannesburg against all of our wishes but to where life was leading us. Here, we experienced my second connection with South Africa this week, the bush. As you can see to the side of my writing, I am reading another book which written by a safari guide. To add to this as I opened my emails yesterday morning, the picture below of a leopard in all its magnificence jumped out at me. "Look what we saw in the Kruger Park is weekend" read the caption. I am immediately transported to wide open blue African skies with warm sunshine and dry dusty air of the African bush.

We have spent many happy weeks in the bush being with all kinds of animals who shared their beauty and lives with us unconcerned by the intrusion of our presence. Much to the envy of others, we were blessed enough to see the Big Five on our first game drive alone into Kruger Park and we fell deeply in love. Every time we went out, there was something special to see - birds of a myriad of colours, vultures sitting loftily on dead branches, lions lying lazily in the shade of acacia trees, kingfishers darting their iridescent colours along river beds, crocodiles and hippos wallowing in the water or wild dogs and their pups playing at the edge of a muddy water hole. The silence and energy in such places is not easily described. Places of such beauty and contrast.

Sometimes, Borneo and I were alone and others we were with family or friends. There were champagne brunches cooked over gas fires after long early morning game drives before retiring to bed during the heat of the day with fans whirring noisily ahead. Then out again once the intense heat had eased to watch sun sets over open escarpment from lookout points at water holes where elephants and their babies came to drink at dusk.

At other times it was just the two of us quietly sipping water, drinking coffee and eating rusks at a picnic spot before stretching out on sleeping bags under the trees until the afternoon drive, then back to make a fire and cook something to eat under stars set against a deep indigo sky. Once a green mamba dropped out of a tree above us and slid passed indifferent to our frozen terror as we lay a couple of meters away. We have been herded by elephants and chased by rhino and I would still go back in a second.

Such a deep yearning came over me and I wanted to head for the airport to board a plane. I best not tell Borneo or he will be packing bags immediately for both of us. He loves the bush far more than I do.

Leopard Photo - P.Distin

Friends

This photograph is in honour of a friend who loves otters. This weekend we are visiting her as Borneo needs to take some photos for his photography project. Being here has made me think of friends and friendship, what this means to me and how blessed I am with the friendships that I have in my life.


Although I don't see most of my friends very often as most of us live vast distances away from each other, the bond that we have formed survives the tests of time. When we finally meet up again after months or years apart, it is like slipping into a luxurious sweater, all warm and comfy, woven in the threads of friendship, carrying all the colours of the memories and laughter we have already shared.


Coming to stay here is like being home from home. Everything is new yet still the same since. The silences are comfortable and the laughter is joyful. It is exciting to catch up on all the news, to sit and enjoy meals together and stumble off to bed at the end of a long day looking forward to the time shared tomorrow.


A BIG thank you to all my friends out there for the joy and laughter you have brought into my life. May you be equally blessed.

Unity

If you have looked to the right of my blog posts you will have seen that I am reading a book called Life Codes. The book has seven codes, one for each day of the week and I have chosen to participate with them as meditations and practices for a week at a time, starting on the day which they are presented in the book. This may change as I embrace this journey because I may want more time with each one.

Reflection is a powerful gift that helps me to know myself. When I think about this I am immediately connected to Gregg Braden's Seven Essene Mirrors and what they are reflecting in my life. For those of you who are not familiar with them, the mirrors are listed very briefly below and are a great tool for reflection when I am feeling challenged.

1)  who I am in the moment

2)  what I judge in the moment

3)  what I have lost, given away or had taken away

4)  my most forgotten love

5)  my relationship with God

6)  my dark night of the soul

7)  my perfection

Monday's mediation was Unity. I used the word 'mediation' quite deliberately as it is an intervention into my daily life. I am tuning in to connect with Unity and how it is present in my life. So I am reflecting on the following:

All is one;

As above, so below;

Whatever I offer out to the world, is ultimately offered to myself.

I start this contemplation with an observation of open-heartedness, to truly connect to and experience all the precious love that I already have in my life - the wonderful Borneo, two lovely grown-up children, the love and support of family and friends and then those amazing synchronicities that flow in me with Divine companionship. I breathe this memory and knowledge into my body. With this action it develops into innate wisdom. 

I am always surprised at the transformation that this simple exercise can bring into my body. Tension leaves and I feel the king of freedom that only surfaces from within. All the grievances that I have been holding on to melt away for the moment. I feel at peace, more so than I have for months. I want to hold onto this feeling forever.

There are so many ways to animate separation and Unity to understand it:

A single raindrop that falls merging with a brilliant turquoise ocean of water;

A single musical note that rises to join the harmonies of a wonderful piece of music;

A single ingredient that blends in enhancing a scrumptious meal.

In the same way, I bring my self to be in the Whole. When I contemplate or meditate, I create a bridge in my physical self where that sacred space is accessed and I connect to a vastness of being. How this happens is a mystery to me, nevertheless it takes me to possibilities that are beyond my mind's dreams and imagination, to an opening where miracles happen.

Every time I expand through the limited physical space that I exist in, I connect profoundly and unquestioningly with 'the bigger picture' and magic appears mysteriously in my life. It comes in unexpected ways and blesses me with gifts that deepen my relationship with the Divine.

Sometimes these gifts are so obvious to me in the moment and at other times I am not able to recognise them until I spend time in reflection, contemplating my thoughts, words and deeds. I am however beginning to know that they are there even when I have not found them yet. The adventure is to find them and delight in them.


Photo 1 The Barracks, Winchester
Photo 2 WIndow and arches reflected in the new font at Salisbury Cathedral
Photo 3 Bridge over the harbour, Weymouth

The blackbird's visit

Watching a blackbird take its bath this morning gave me a moment's pause from being wrapped up in my own little world. There was such freedom and joy in its movements. It transported me firmly back into the present moment and reminded me about what is truly important in life.

I had an interesting comment on the division of body and spirit in my last musing and was asked if this was wise at a time where we are desperately seeking the melding of body, mind and spirit into wholeness of being.

This is where I answer, 'I am not my body'. To be my body and mind would be to be all the pain and suffering I have experienced over my lifetime. This is not what defines me and who I am. I am however aware of how they have shaped my thoughts and feelings to help me explore who I Am.

My Spirit is indomitable. My ego likes to forget this. It wants to wallow in self-indulgence which is fair enough for a while but somewhere inside me this changes if I can allow it. This is a miracle to me.

Quietly behind my self-pity, my Spirit sneaks in random thoughts with a different perspective. My ego does not really want to notice them but my Spirit is persistent. Behind my body and mind where the chaos of life is playing out its role theatrically, there is that wise part of me that observes my every move and deed with amusement and annoys my ego intensely. That wise part of me pays no heed.

This Wisdom is not attached to my physical life or my choices in any way. It is not judgemental or unkind like my ego can be. It is merely present to observe and oversee me through my dramas shepherding me to choices that embrace a wider panorama beyond my tunnel vision of the moment. It works very hard.

When I listen, regardless of the strain and stresses I am in, the synchonicities that follow astound me. I am humbled by how present the Divine is in every aspect of my life, escorting me along every step of the way regardless of whether I appreciate it or not. I still fall away from faith and have to be reminded of it again and again. That river of forgetfulness that one drinks of before birth is powerful stuff. Thankfully the Power that ushers me through my life is more formidable than the forgetfulness and is always there to remind me of what is truly important.

Muttering on my view of my world today

If you look closely at the picture you will no doubt conclude that I really should not mutter too much. Contained within it are a number of mixed blessings that help to get a frustrated being through the day. Books, magazines, chocolate, knitting, laptop and what is not seen is the coffee on the bedside table. If you have not guessed, I am flat on my back on the bed.

I am muttering because today I am chafing against the restrains that my body has place on the rest of me that would be rather be out walking in the woods or in some such beautiful open place. I miss it and my soul yearns for it.

I have decided that if someone asks how I am, the appropriate response will be, 'I am great but my body has a mind of its own.' Usually we get along together just fine even with the constraints that it has demanded over the last 18 months. I try not to be in conflict with it so that we can present a united front, supporting each other, but there are just those times that I can't be asked. Today is one of them.

I met a friend briefly for breakfast this morning. After walking roughly 2000 steps, I had that dreaded lightening bolt of pain flare through my hip and down the front and back of my leg. To say that it leaves me breathless is an understatement. The last few have transported me to a different reality momentarily and I come back feeling quite disoriented. Needless to say, the thought of placing my weight on my foot for the next step is not usually a very pleasant one.

This is enough of a challenge when it happens at home. Here I can sit or lie down. When I am out in the street it takes on a whole new meaning. I freeze wherever I am, on one leg and although I have not yet screamed and alarmed the locals, the astonished looks I get are priceless even if I can seldom appreciate them at the time. I am sure that my expression must be awesome. I am left stranded standing where I am on one leg until I have plucked up the courage to take the next step. I am grateful that this has seldom happened when I am crossing the street.

After one of these incidents, I play the sitting, standing, lying down game as no position is comfortable for long. Other times I have to retire to bed as I have done today and my view of the world changes. This all brings me to why I wanted to mutter. Yes, I love your sympathy and I am wallowing. Thank you.

Today, at the library, I visited an art exhibition' called 'It works both ways' combining the talents of an artist and a lady with cerebral palsy who can only communicate with her eyes. It is a display of pinhole photography and two short films. Her disability was barely seen as she expressed how she views her life. What an uplifting inspiration! It shook my looming depression away in an instant. If only it had banished the wallowing self-indulgence too but I do allow myself this sometimes.

However, I am gaining great new respect for people who are disabled or immobile in any way. What amazing challenges that they face every day and how little thought and respect we have for them. I have pushed wheelchairs and lived with the elderly and I still had little idea of what it is like. I am only experiencing a fraction of it now and it makes me grumpy.

So here I am lying on my bed. Regardless of my wallowing self-indulgence I am counting my blessings and if you are reading this, you are one of them.

Composing dinner for two

Yesterday evening as I was composing dinner for two, it struck me how my friends and family have helped to mould my enjoyment of food over the years. My mother was a 'meat, potatoes and two veg' type of girl who spent most of my former years fruitlessly trying to get me to eat vegetables. After my brothers kindly substituted small green pickled onions for peas on my dinner plate one evening when I was about three, I became suspicious of anything green. I existed on meat, fruit and cheese and remained steel-willed even when the same vegetables were served up meal after meal with nothing else in an attempt to force me to eat them. My mother gave up. I just had little interest in food. Not even cakes and puddings would tempt me. A stint at boarding school clinched the deal and food was of little consequence.

Then I met Borneo, one of the two who would enjoy the dinner being composed above. I was swept into a family of wolfhound men who hunter-gathered through the kitchen and dining room whenever they were home eating everything in sight. I was both appalled and fascinated. I had never seen so much prepared food disappear so quickly. And they, in turn, were horrified by my absolute lack of interest. The family introduced me to big South African braais (barbecues) with macho men declaring their hunting (going to the best butcher) and drinking skills around the fire in the garden and gregarious women preparing potato salads and accompaniments in the kitchen. It was all so strange and food-oriented.

After that, it seems that every friend I met took me deeper into my new found love for food. There were evening meals, lunch dates and coffee mornings. R had a Lebanese evening with sumptuous food that astounded my taste buds. S brought out a Mediterranean feast with peppadews and olives one night when we had finally got the kids to sleep and the girls tucked into it . I haven't taken to olives. J stayed a while and cooked pastas and risottos. T served us our first English Christmas with bread sauce and Brussels sprouts. I haven't taken to sprouts either. Y taught me to enjoy vegetables. R learned how to cook and still delights us with her creations. There are too many to mention but they have all lead me wonderfully astray and I am still loving it.

To end this I hope the irony in this last bit makes you smile. After 20 years of begging and pleading with me to eat vegetables, wherever my mother is watching me from, she must be laughing because I have been a vegetarian for over 14 years. I developed an intolerance for meat and cannot eat it. So now I am catching up on all those missed vegetables of my youth and enjoying them along with the cakes, biscuits, tapas and French cheese. The list is long and very delicious.