lovely lonely

Just now I intended to write lonely but my fingers typed lovely, a one letter difference which made me smile.

LOVELY

LONELY

LONELY

LOVELY

I'm someone who is at the end of her family line, the finale of the people who birthed people since the beginning of human time. Big stuff.

Without parents and grandparents, without uncles and aunts - all dead. Without nephews or nieces, I'm not an aunt. Without partner or children, I am no-ones mother and for a son or a daughter I will never bow my knee.

Lonely lives in my chest, unconnected by blood I'm self reliant and can cope with levels of isolation that would drive others bonkers. Pre lockdown I was lonely, post lockdown I'll be lonely. It's not something to pity or fix, it is an appropriate emotion in relation to my circumstances.

Obviously I've been unable to do the things that buoy me for over a year now, at times the isolation has been profound. Tentatively, with feelings of shame I've shared with particular friends that I'm spending a lot of time alone, or directly stating that I'm lonely. Responses have been interesting: 

Oh, we don't see anyone (friend who lives with partner and adult child)

I'm the same (friend who lives with partner/child and who's parents are living)

You can spend time with my daughter!!! (person who lives with husband/three children who's parents are living)

Oh, we just say say to each other do you want a cup of tea! (friend living with partner and dog)

I'd love to be alone, the children don't give me a moment (friend living with extended family - mother, brother, sister-in-law, nephews and niece)

These responses serve to deepen isolation and end the conversation, they also confused me. Not one person took a moment to acknowledge what I'd said, it became about them. This got me thinking does everyone feel lonely? Is my life so unimaginable and unfathomable that others have no way to relate? Am I expected to shut up? Am I not playing the game? Did I bring this on myself? The weight of Culture heavy as a leftover woman, a spinster, an old-maid. 

For those of us without partner or family how do we connect and relate to others in a family orientated and pro-natal world? A world where we are negatively portrayed. Is someone like me allowed a voice? Should I shoulder this alone? Is it shameful to admit to being lonely? Why does it trigger a defensive response?

Everyone is at the end of their respective tethers but I manage to not tell others how fortunate they are to have living family, could this empathy be returned?  

life and loss

For some, birth and death entwine, for some no three score and ten.

I was drawn towards a well tended grave at the edge of the cemetery. A son born and died on the same day. His parents had left cards on what would have been his 38th birthday a couple of weeks before I crouched at the foot of his grave.

Walking away, vaguely uncomfortable having read his parents loving words I felt bowed with sadness. Gazing around the cemetery the weight in my chest immediately transformed into a thought: loss is life. My shoulders unfurled recognising the love and longing made physical in stone, wreath and engraved text surrounding me. 

The pain of loss is witnessed in a graveyard. Loss lives here. It is important that losses live. They walk with us anyhow, matching our stride in patient silence.

The years are counted in a loved ones absence. I imagine these parents recognised their son in boys, and now men the age he would be. A particular shade of hair, a gait, the angle of a cheek - gut knowing, a catch in the heart. Would our boy have been like that? Is this him? A weary searching for... something...     

Loss has a life, it grows with us. It's facets revealed as we age and carry the weight of further losses. Recognising something of an-other when it's too late to say, 'oh, I get it now, I understand.' 

Grieving and living while the sun shines on our faces and the birds sing and it's beautiful and our hearts break all the same.   

a very late - hello 2021!

I'm shocked to realise that it's over 2 months since I posted here. Time seems to drag and also flash by simultaneously, which is very disorientating. I also wonder if I have much to say, or the energy to work it out, write it out.

Welcome 2021, lets see how this year flows. I have no expectations, but hope for health. 

Here is a photograph taken last month, the day after my 50th birthday. It's cool being half a century old, I'm fortunate to have got here and welcome the silver hairs and crone status.   

goodbye 2020

I love how the sun and camera lens create red ovals within this image. One is inviting us to walk the path into it... or will Glinda The Good Witch step from the bubble? We could all use some glittering pink dress Glinda energy.

Usually at Winter Solstice I take great pleasure in making a walking ritual, where I think about all I'd like to shake off and leave behind and all I intent to nourish and invite in for the coming year. This Solstice if felt right not to ask for anything, to go with the flow into 2021 and embrace whatever comes along.

Last year I wrote down all that I wished to leave behind on small strips of paper, burning one by one and letting them go. I also wrote down all I wished to invite in and walked to a beloved sycamore tree, reading each word out loud before tightly folding each strip of paper and hiding them within a nook at the base of the sycamore. My intentions were for a stable home, a regular income and a rescue dog (who's name will be Mote). The global pandemic put a hold on these things, but they will come... I'm trying to count my many blessings at the close of a year that has been such a spiritual and mental test.

I'm hopeful for 2021 and send my best wishes to all 💖 

Lets keep looking out for each other 💖 

Glinda, are you there?

heart's ease tonic

Last week I made a 'heart's ease tonic' to share with friends. I've had great feedback so thought I'd share the recipe here.

This herbal helper won’t make sadness or grief disappear, but it may help support you with these feelings. Drink a shot glass measure when required.

3 cups water

Half cup elderberries (I’ve used frozen blackberries as too late in the season for elder)

Half cup hawthorn berries

Half cup rosehips

1 cinnamon stick

Orange peel - 1 quarter

Small bottle (250g) pure maple syrup

1.5oz brandy

❤️ Remove stalks and rinse hips and haws, discard any damaged berries

❤️ Add water, berries, cinnamon and peel to a pan and bring to boil

❤️ Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes

❤️ Remove from heat and use a wooden spoon to mash berries

❤️ Strain through muslin and squeeze (allow mixture to cool a little first)

❤️ Pour liquid back into pan, add maple syrup and brandy. Heat gently to combine ingredients

❤️ Pour into sterilised glass jar or bottle

❤️ Label, refrigerate, use within 1 month, recipe makes around 1.5lt

Hawthorn, rosehip, blackberry, orange peel and cinnamon 

Straining the liquid

Cooling pulp

The only bottles I could buy locally were double the size I needed...

skate

A small group of young people have taken over and engineered a derelict area next to the studio to suit their skateboarding practice.

I've seen them in the space from a distance, and kept meaning to explore when they weren't around... I got my chance last week, and relished walking around the structures they've created. Their building materials are basic, weathered, scattered and they have utilised rubble piles and concrete surface to great effect. The experience was no different to viewing sculpture in a carefully curated space and bought to mind artist friends who would have enjoyed this solo preview. 

This intervention is (of course) done without permission. Even so, I carried a sense of trespass in their space, and felt as if I was breaking a rule! 

October baby

This vine is a vibrant reminder that mum's birthday is drawing near. She would have been 85 next week ❤️

She was the last of seven children and her mum, Ada was 42 when Doreen Edna was born ❤️