The art of living in abundance and joy!

Sunday, 26 February 2017

Out out

First proper out outing of 2017.  Sussex Bonfire ensures a ferocious social whirl from September through December, so once new year celebration is done and dusted, that's me away in hibernation for the foreseeable.  I find hibernating with tea, crochet, box sets, books, Kindle, journaling and beading easy to do. I am an extroverted introvert, meaning that although I appear very confident and sociable, the truth of the matter is that I can often feel drained even by being out having fun with people I love, and need solitude and nature to recharge my batteries.

Ok, it's a little fib to say that this is the first time out since new year.  A couple of weeks into January I met with some friends with the intention to discuss upcoming plans for events.  Evidently it was too early in the year for anyone else, so it was just us, and we fell to talking about old times, and the drink flowed.  Then last week I heard about a band who've been on my radar to catch for literally years,  and they were playing not 10 minutes drive from my house, so...well It would have been rude not to wouldn't it. We'd just been to the gym and my hair was a wreck, and it had been so long since I'd been out that I kind of forgot how to do it...but I did it and we went. As nights out go it wasn't bad, there were some visiting Hells Angels, a person trying to pick a fight with the lead singer as he sang (quickly removed by said Angels) and some wonderful songs, I'm really glad I didn't miss it. 

So last week was a little accidental slip up out, this weekend is full on intentional going out to see my favourite band, who are my friends too. Thankfully I no longer drink wine on nights out unless I'm actually having a meal and no, a kebab at 1am does not count.  Chilled Sauvignon is just too easy to drink, and like lots of people I am chronically dehydrated so stick a nice cold drink in front of me and down it goes.  Feeling that on edge thing, and not smoking any more also means that I can unintentionally finish a drink really quickly.  I've switched to lager shandy, because ale, even perfectly kept, upsets my stomach and gives me a headache, and sugary soft drinks don't float my boat.  Too much alcohol was never a problem when I worked in the trade, but now I rely on my own creativity I resent the fact that it takes away my ability to create for the day after.

With almost telepathic perspicuity the band's drummer asked us all during the break if we were keeping up with our new year's resolutions.  We had a good laugh over various stories, and I kept my little thing about the wine to myself, to preserve the magic and strength of it, although despite former worries about how well it would work, I'm actually liking my clear head for once. 


Tuesday, 21 February 2017


A sunny day in my parents' garden, so long ago.  Love and warmth radiates from this photograph, and I wish my own children could have known these two.  Dad died just weeks before the birth of my first child, and mum died when I was 9 weeks pregnant with my fourth, the oldest one just five years old.  I have tried to keep their memories alive, whilst hiding the true depths of my pain at the loss of them.  These two who reached middle age before an opportunity to become parents presented itself, and they took it.

My father left my mother just weeks before my birth, and my adoption was arranged during the month of March ready for my birth in April.  What did she feel? Those feelings must be part of me, the lens through which I see the world.  I think of her often, of course, but hardly ever of him.  Was he a good man? Does he think of me ever?  What is his name? 

All this would have been brewing around this time of year, the same time of year that my adoptive father died and then my own first child, my son, was born just two weeks after my own birthday.  Such a potent time, the first signs of spring out there, releasing us from winter's hold.

Carrying little ones in dressing gowns to their mummy's car last night, the air smelt of the year to come.  Walking back to my house where my grown up family are drinking tea and laughing.  Can mum and dad see them?  Does my birth mum get a sense of them, of me?  Do any of my four parents know the depth of my gratitude to them, for my life?  I visualise my gratitude flowing outwards from my heart, my being, weaving strong golden threads that connect the ones I cannot see to those around me, shining in the dark.


Monday, 20 February 2017

Not to be sneezed at

This shelf in my kitchen holds some of the stuff I use in my doula business, for preparing placentas for mummas.  I process placentas into capsules, as well as making creams and tinctures.   Up there also is a little pile of napkins printed like £50 notes.  I have sometimes  struggled with my own concepts about money; that you should only have as much as you need and no more, that I wasn't worth the money I could earn and a host of others that I am working on eliminating as I discover them.  This pile of printed tissues cost me £1.99, but they look like hundreds of pounds in a pile.  They make a very interesting prop, and tool for manifesting more money.  They also serve to show me (as if my bank statement doesn't!) that there's still more work to be done.

Even taking a picture of this pile of tissues made me I was showing off, or posting a nude photo or something.  Meanwhile I will leave you with this thought...I love money, and money loves me.

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