Ask the Priestess

Time is one of those things we all know to be a construct: hours exist only in clocks, days change at sunset or sunrise or in the middle of the night. And today, after three years, time compressed yet again. It is true what they say, that a minute can be the longest time in the world, and a lifetime but a sigh. Today, once again, I have my attention drawn to the fact that Mam died three years ago, and it feels unbelievable that it could already be so long, and still feel so untrue - as though I could just pick up the phone (or get on Skype) and have a chat. But no. Time, that wonderful trickster, is also a surprising healer. In its unreality, it knows whatever we cling onto is but a phantom; so it works its magic and lulls us to complaisance. And once we're strong enough, it lets us open our eyes and poof ! we have reached another era. It makes sure we are so busy following its ticking that our hearts will beat to its rythms, sustaining us, tying us to life. I am grateful to ...

There are many places we live in, work in, have fun in, suffer in. There are cities, villages, fields, seas. What I have realised recently, though, is that within those places, there are also spaces. And it is those spaces that hold the real meaning of our memories and reactions. It is the spaces, not the places, that matter. For example, I live in London (UK). Now, London is a huge city and, more importantly, the only one of its kind I like (at least, of all those I have visited or live in). It is full of different nationalities, flavours, architecture, culture... and also of racial disagreements, bad housing, lack of manners, dirty streets. Yet, when I say I like or love London, depending on the mood, I mostly relate to specific spaces of London. So, what do I love about London? The South Bank on a stroll, the lower floor of the Royal Festival Hall where you can see people practise dance, the museums on a school day, the Candid Arts Café and Kenwood House for a cup of tea,...

I have a problem with praise. OK; not a problem per se , more like a disfunctional relationship with it. On the one hand, I love praising people, then observing how it empowers them. When people are praised, they realise their own wonderful characteristics, that others are aware of their efforts and achievements, and that they can go further than they thought. Praise tells them that, even though it may have been hard to reach that certain level, by having achieved they have broken their own ceiling. And if the ceiling is broken, why not push themselves just that bit further, higher, closer to their aspirations? Praise, when devoid of motive other than being the truth, is a wonderful gift, notwithstanding the relative scope of the achievement. Have you ever seen the glow on a child's face when you show your pride at their being able to spoon food into their own mouths? Or at their creativity for having drawn a rainbow with 27 different shades of 3 colours? An...

We learn that to love is to hold. Thinking about it simply, I would agree. After all, hugs are a favourite of mine: hugging, cuddling, snuggling... You can feel the tenderness, the warmth, the joy of them in their very shapes - all requiring a double consonant, like a hug needs two of us. The beauty of an embrace is as mystical as well known, for it can save a life (as it does premature children - see link below), heal our souls as well as our bodies (another link), and enables us to express the greatest depths of love when words fail us - a parent holding its child, friends reuniting, supporting the bereaved or celebrating victory, all are inextricably linked to the wealth of love of the hug (no, no web link - unless you choose to send one in a comment.) But then, hold, now that can be a bit trickier. You can be held captive, or enthralled; hostage, or in amazement; in contempt or in the highest regard. So, which hold is love? Hold has, sadly, a connotation of strength, of ...

The people in my life can sing, can dance, can climb trees and explore the land.   The people in my life live near, some far, live in awe of magic of joy, ecstatic.   The people in my life love sunsets, sunrise, love others, love much, the people in my life.   I, like everyone, am surrounded by the magical love of friends and family. These people, I believe, I created as they have created me, to share and grow and smile. They love me so truly, they sometimes challenge me to go beyond my comfort zone; and, though kicking and screaming, I accept, for I know they will not leave me to flounder alone. This mini-poem (or group of verses, rather) just came unbidden as I was sat here. I chose to share it, because I also believe that, whether I know you personally or not, those of you at the other side of the screen are also people in my life. I honour you, near or far, and thank you for being here, along for the ride.

I have been having a rough time lately, facing my own nonsense. Yes, you know, the kind that nags in your head 'you have to be good to be liked', and 'they don't really want you there', and 'that comment about someone being rude was about you. It doesn't matter if you don't think you have been rude, you have to think harder, because for SURE it was about you! Think, think, think. What have you done!?!?' That nonsense which, though it IS nonsense, can still be quite powerful. Today in particular was just such a (nut)case, with me going round and round in my head all day that my landlord must want me to leave, and that is what the chat in the evening was to be about, and that comment about 'that's just rude' as he was leaving in the morning was about me (now you understand where I got the example). I honestly was seriously considering going online and starting to look for a new place while at work. Except, that is, that I was too busy doi...

I was hoping to spend a quiet day in bed, not for any reason (i.e. I'm healthy, no need to panic), just because I can since it was a Sunday. But no, I realised I actually wanted to go to Richmond Park (I have been in London for five years, but never there), and that I had to somehow explore. So I sloooowly got dressed, even put on some make up (!!), checked the bus map and decided which buses I needed (without checking the TfL website! I'm very proud of myself, as it's become a sort of permanent crutch, that site) and eventually did leave the house. I decided to try and find another way to get to the bus stop, and followed a footpath between the houses. The good news is, I did manage to get to the stop. The so-so news are, it had taken me longer than without the 'shortcut'. And the 'harrumph' news, I had just missed the bus and had to wait another 20 minutes. Thankfully, I had bought myself gloves and a hat the previous evening, so I did not freeze, you m...