Heart-shaped

I love finding heart shapes in unexpected places, especially in nature.





Today's favourite song: Finlay Quaye, 'Dice'

Rescue

i shout i scream I cry, and still he watches. I shout I thump I protest. And still, he watches. I won't I can't, no No NO, i say. He. Watches.

I reach for the floor, the bottom of my will, the end of my line. Tear my hair out, scream the house alive.. spit and holler...

i pant, i moan, i lie wounded. And still. He Does Not Move.

I'm quiet. I breathe softly. I go inside. I raise my arms.

He Moves. His arm stretches out. He lifts me up.

He rescues me.


Today's favourite song: Lucinda Williams, 'Rescue'

I met God at the Cowley festival

I went to a festival recently, and the most extraordinary thing happened.

There I was, minding my own business, listening to a reggae band with ex-boy. The band finished and ex-boy wanted to go and congratulate the djembe player, which we did. He was about 40ish, hippie-ish and very smiley. As we turned to go, he gave each of us a great big bear hug..

OH

MY

GOD

Something happened in that bear hug...

All I felt when he hugged me was love. Huge, all encompassing, unconditional love. I couldn't let go. When I eventually did, thinking he must think I was a nutter.. I walked away and burst into a flood of tears.

I have never, ever, felt love like that... it was pure, it was huge, but most of all it was unconditional. It felt like that no matter what I did, what I said, or who I was.. I was loved..

Was he God in dreadlocks?? .. an angel in human form? .. an ordinary but exceptionally loving person..?

I don't think it matters.

What matters is the experience, and me never forgetting it, taking it with me and gripping it tightly to never let it go...


Today's song: Joan Osbourne, 'One of Us'

The Verve...

Are Back...!!

Yay!

Their new song rocks my world..

Love is Noise.

Ain't it just.


Can't wait for the album.


Today's top tune: The Verve: 'Love is Noise'

Things I Am Grateful For. Part 2.

M.E.

I know what you're thinking... Are you ker-azy..??!! Hear me out!

Ok, so amongst the raging fevers, the crippling pain, the days in bed, the lack of energy, the lack of income, the myriad of cancellations, maybe I'm not so grateful, but when I look at the Big Picture, and look at who I am now, and who I was then, I am very grateful.

Why?

Because through m.e., I have learnt happiness. I'm talking about actual, bona fide, non-fleeting happiness, happiness that comes from deep inside. And it is real. And it is genuine.

Before, I wasn't a particularly happy person, not inside. I was eternally searching for it; through spirituality, consumerism, work, relationships, anywhere and everywhere. I constantly suffered because of it, through eating disorders, addictions, self-destruction. I questioned life incessantly and always got the same answer: 'Love Is Everything'. But I didn't believe it. I thought that far too simplistic and obvious to be true: and that love, I just couldn't find.

But just because it's simple, doesn't mean it isn't the truth.

Love is everything. It's love for oneself that is everything, and that is what m.e. has given me.

I was stripped of my life, my career, my money, my friends - in short, everything that makes up a 'life'. I became desperately ill. I visited many, many dark places. When you're life is taken, and you suffer intensely (physically, mentally, emotionally) you are taken to a place where you have a choice: you can hate yourself, berate yourself, blame yourself and despair, or you can search and find the real you inside, and love yourself, cherish yourself, take care of yourself and survive.

And in the craziness, that is what I did. And love for me is what I found.

So is it worth it? Well, don't ask me in the middle of a fever or when I'm doubled over in pain, but when my body is calmer, and I'm at a low 2 on the pain scale, then hell yeah, it's worth it.


Today's favourite (officially, my favourite ever, ever) song: Toure Kunda 'Emma'

Sisters

With hindsight, I am lucky to have grown up with three sisters. At the time I was most unhappy about it, too aware of the lack of space, the niggling and fighting, the jostling for attention. As an adult, I am gratefully aware it, grateful for the many nights spent in conversation, the comforting arms around me in times of trouble and laughing, lots of laughing.

We comprised: big sis, momma sis, myself (dreamy sis) and baby sis. Big sis’ moniker was not a reference to her size, but rather her age. Momma sis received her name long, long before she became an actual momma, due to her the momma-like tendencies she had been born with. Baby sis was (unsurprisingly) the youngest and I, dreamy sis, was called so due to a love of being forever mentally absent (though physically present).

Big sis was considerably older than the rest of us, and was thus viewed with a mixture of unadulterated adoration and awe – she was our Goddess. She existed on a pedestal, and has done ever since. At an age where make-up and boys was a world undiscovered, she would horrify me with tales of a future – my future – that would involve boyfriends and marriage. Aghast, I would argue that my beloved red BMX and climbing trees were all that mattered to me, thank you very much.

Big sis left us just as we were approaching adolescence and life was getting more interesting. She disappeared at an age where I didn't realise that people, certainly not those I loved so intensely, actually died. For the three of us that remained, our childhood innocence also died that day.

We were now three sisters, and rather than cling to each other in the madness that followed, we each clung to our own individual rafts to survive: the pain in each others' eyes was too much to witness and our individual memories of her, much too precious to share, were jealously guarded. The fact that we were simultaneously limping into adolescence with its requisite moodiness and confusion only served to emphasize our separation. We drifted apart on those turbulent seas and only drifted back to each other once adulthood had begun to show its face.

Momma sis has never shed her moniker and, I suspect, never will; actual motherhood has only strengthened the endearing ways in which she continues to mother baby sis and I. As the second oldest she heaved the mantle of 'big' sis onto her small shoulders and tried to lead us towards the light and resurrection from grief; though she herself was blind. Taking on the responsibility was not an easy option – her younger siblings looked to her more and more for a replacement of the 'Goddess' they had lost. She struggled, but ultimately succeeded, and perhaps it was ever meant to be so.

The departure of big sis fell hardest on baby sis. They were not on speaking terms at the time, and the chance to repair the bridge of misunderstanding between them (for that was all it was) was lost forever. Regardless of the comforting words from her remaining sisters, she needed to re build the bridge herself single-handedly. It took many years and her courage in finding her own peace at the tragic timing of events was, and still is, an awesome feat.

Now, as remaining sisters all 'growed-up', I truly recognise the blessings of my sisters' presence and pour gratitude upon it (this, despite the niggling and fighting that has never quite managed to leave us). Though her presence is now ethereal, big sis is still very much the first sister in our quadrangle. Though I don't really know what the afterlife has planned for us, I look forward to the day where we are four once again.



Today's favourite song: Mike Oldfield, 'Crime of Passion'

The Importance of Being a Cat

With M.E., you can't really 'do' things. And you spend A LOT of time by yourself.

A LOT of time quietly in a bed or on a sofa.

Understandably, it is difficult not to be filled with a profound sense of solitude: 'Out There', life continues apace whilst 'In Here', it is just you, your resting place, and your silence. You can't watch TV - it hurts your brain, you can't listen to music - it hurts your ears, you can't talk on the phone - it hurts your throat, you can't meet with anyone - you're just-too-tired.

So it's you, your sofa, and your friend silence...

... then in walks The Cat..

Olly the Cat.

A present from a loved one to keep you company. A ginger and cream Burmese dynamo. A Top Cat with the loudest miaow (and purr) in Catville.

You are no longer alone!

You can't talk to the cat (not in words anyway) you can't share your burdens with your cat (at least not if need a response) but you can be loved, can be snuggled with, can be purred at, and can be made to feel the most important person in the universe.

Life is different. You can't feel solitude because you have a permanent friend. You don't feel scared because the purring is too sweet, and whilst you can't do much else, you can help a little fur ball. You can give him a loving home, you can feed him the best food, you can play with him and groom him, and you can love him back. You can, at last, 'do'.

So, to the person who gifted me Olly the Cat, and for Olly the Cat himself, I express my deepest gratitude for making my (m.e.) life just that little bit better... xxx

Wish for Olly

(Cat)sites:
acatslife-tia
newcats
www.moggies.co.uk
www.funnycatpics.com

Today's favourite song: Prefab Sprout 'Life of Surprises'