Showing posts with the label social revolution

Birthday Times

Words On Being Happy Two milestone birthdays today that I know of - of course there are more - one 70th, one 1st, to be celebrated from a distance. (70 years no longer sounds old, whereas one year of existence is a dot.) For Grandchild 7 we had sent a parcel by taxi: all the willow branch-and-twig cut down from pruning the arch (deliberately left to overgrow for this occasion) ribbon tied and rolled in an old tablecloth. A willow house kit! (Although it looked a little like I was disposing of a tall skinny body…) Which his family have assembled with pallet flooring, and I hope has survived last night’s high winds... For the 70th (Caroline Osborne-Dowle) a handmade card which dropped into the post box before I remembered that the post had already gone that day so it will be late - but I will call and give the real present, which is a pledge to spend time - to go out, to stay in, details will sort themselves out. Time is the priceless thing. We will march from dot to dusk, tra

We Make-Do, We Mend

Words On Changing The World Friday 24th April 2020: In the midst of a batch of glorious days in which Mr and me are outside dusk till past dawn, and fall asleep in reclining chairs as the stars gain sway and Venus looks as though she is disappearing down our chimney. Our hands are scrubbed, stained in mud and green. One morning I had got up early, run to the river, had a swim, run back home, showered, breakfasted, all before work. Another morning Mr and I got up early and did all of our Tae Kwon-Do patterns out on the grass. Then yoga stretches, then breakfast, all before work. Tech troubles we deal with slowly, in small bursts, to mitigate frustration. We are mostly making lockdown look good, but ache to be with family and friends. People are being bereaved. There is fear in the background. I worry for disadvantaged strangers as well as my own circle; d ream of land to share. A levelling should come of this. Last night on a whim I picked some red sorrel and dye

Doubt And Celebrate

Words On Loving Yourself Plan was this: to go to the woods then come home and write. I had asked my clever brother to make a graphic for me, of a phrase I use and wished to share, because it is so nearly my 50th birthday it was making me feel beneficently wise. What happened was: I was watching the happy arse of my dog as she thundered towards the river when a bundle of words arrived with a ferocity equal to her velocity, as though she had tugged them into being. Writing was done awkwardly, immediately, balanced on a knee.  These words: 'Imagine a sheet of paper, imagine you have a spoonful of ink. You fling the ink at the paper; some of it will miss. You are like this ink. But you are not this ink. You can refling yourself over and over and in doing this create something more fluid, dynamic, astounding, authentic, than anything any of us can fix to paper. Please breathe and feel your breath.  Please love yourself. Whatever doubt you are in, all