Self-Care

It would greatly help if there was a formula for this.

Shopping always nipped the tension.

 

I don’t need anything in particular nor do I feel an impulse for anything.

Less is more as one grows older.

 

I will be on my own the next few days.

Girls both out and help will be on holiday.

 

I won’t have to get up too early.

Laundry can wait until the load piles up.

 

I’d be lying if I said I’d be 100% ok.

I think this would be a good time to get myself out of my self-imposed prison.

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Happy about What?

Nothing in particular really…

I’m just in a happy mood!

I sense something is arriving.

I don’t really know what or who.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m just feeling happy.

 

I could be happy about nothing.

That’s fine too.

I’m actually fatigued and still feeling happy.

I’m happy right now all alone.

Early dinner and then snooze.

I’ve been nursing a running nose.

 

In between sneezes I’m happy.

I chuckle every now and then.

Thinking that something or someone is arriving.

Soon I hope!

Despite the hectic holiday rush, I feel it.

I’m happy thinking about nothing or something.

 

Call it silly, call it whatever you want.

I don’t care.

Bottom line is, I am feeling happy!

So I’m imagining positive thoughts.

Coaxing the universe to rush the delivery.

Meanwhile, I’m practicing how to be surprised!

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Life’s aeration

 

 

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Life is a continuous string of aerations, pearling moments that we ease by or clunk over as eternal knots. We’re constantly easing and climbing where life often begins as a thick, anaerobic sludge. Breaking it down is challenging and can feel almost impossible to manoeuvre. Air lacks and signs point in a million directions.

Until life’s aerators switch on and we’re suddenly whisking in a big milk shake.

Aerators add air. Some are huge machines that are used to mix thick wastewater or sewage as a way of adding air where no air exists. It’s the important first step in treating and cleaning the sewage by supporting natural biological processes without the aid of harsh chemicals. The whole sewage treatment process is fascinating, as are the aerators, which appear as contraptions that Leonardo da Vinci may have drawn in the 15th Century.

Life is one continuous strand full of necessary aerations, of cleaning and sorting, of froth and bubbles full of a pungent pong as it attempts to move to an airy aroma. These aerations repeat in ebbs and flows, as the cycle of life.

The aerating process could extend for any length of time, a second, a few minutes or a week. We may catch a serendipitous ripple and flow past the aerators’ rotors onto the next pearl of where we’re meant to be.

Other times can be the extreme opposite where unfortunately for some, aerating that anaerobic pit can take a lifetime. It can mix us sick or we can become stagnant to whiz in the same place over and over again. Life can become stuck as we try to sort through the messy shit.

Celebrations and upset come and go, desires and expectations change or aren't met. For some, it’s a taut succession of requirements and obligations that must be sorted and prioritised.

He has more than she, she wants him and he wants him too. Excitement and joy, loving and being loved, loneliness, death ...

All merge into dreams of sleep that can haze a reality of feelings, of what’s real and what’s not, what’s true and not or what’s what.

The aeration can be slow and tedious or it can quicken through the night with glimpses of opportunity shining from under a blue moon. We reach and stretch and stop struggling against the aerators to instead, flow with them to whiz wherever life takes us. We're spat out to continue to the next pearl in life.

Soon enough, we’re out of that aeration and past those knots onto pursuing those opportunities glimpsed.

At times though, being caught up in those rotors can become a comfort zone and the trick is in the letting go of the struggle to allow those rotors to shake us and lead us somewhere new. In letting go, the kinks in the strand of pearls unfurl to sit relaxed and loose, free to go where they need to go. 

It’s a trick that I wonder whether anyone has truly mastered, magician or otherwise!

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The form of kaleidoscope

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Broken and shattered, sometimes fractured, smatterings of shards of every size and shape.

It begins as a brittleness, a weakness that with every morsel sampled, dries more and more to become fragile until pieces suddenly snap off and fall away. Soon and without realising, they’re tumbling in gathered speed to freefall as an unknown journey to somewhere.

Snagging off scarps and clipping through craggy crevices that scratch angry, the freefall gathers momentum to hurtle towards a pit of devastation, a black hole with no landing. Pieces that once gelled to form the most glorious wings, flap in frantic fright as severely clipped with quills lost make wings useless to fly free.

Sometimes it’s not a slow fracture that bleeds to a fall but more a sudden and unexpected plummet from cloudless, blue skies, without warning or knowledge of any underlying delicate balance.

How and why ...

A burly panic, a paste and patch to fill the cracks and invisible pores that even under a magnifying glass can’t be seen. Scraps and specks, fragments and flecks ... somehow they must mend into one, to capture that essence of soulful core before it drains to depleted dry, before it becomes barren and desolate in a forgotten land. And then lifeless. And more struggle with the lifeless.

These chunks and slivers of shapes never seen before must rejoin with a super glue of the utmost strength and magical powers to form the ultimate bond.

Piece by piece, they mend back together to form something else, never in the original form that once was. New forma are made, new calluses spread over wounds and seams to strengthen that fragile resolve. These new forms are more beautiful and intricate than ever before with dents that dazzle in colours unseen and frays that frizzle to create a most unique and interesting kaleidoscope of form.

Sometimes though, the join or wound cannot mend and it becomes a permanent weakness where the slightest knock can damage severely. Sometimes, the super glue is inferior in quality or an imitation that’s simply a paste of flour and water, is used and the pieces can’t mend no matter what. Or if they mend, the first rain drop that skims the join becomes like sulphuric acid rampant on innocent skin.

It’s sad, heartbreaking. But even then, a new form is born.

As pieces come together and clipped wings mend, appreciate the intricate contours of form made, the breaks and falls, the welds that make up the unique and individual kaleidoscope of life. 

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