feels so near i can almost taste it, yet somehow, almost exactly, half a life time ago!… what does become of our younger selves… the river of time and all that malarkey … edit… adding brief words, belatedly, to what is but a supremely lazy ‘memories of yesteryear’ repost……. curious as to the provenance of this snap… i remember that we were in a pub car park, somewhere in surrey… with mum and dad, hence the dreads scraped back out of sight, suspect mel would have taken it summer early 90’s… i’m either just back from prague or the caves in granada… or possibly even south america, but don’t think it’s that late time wise not one of my pics, as i didn’t take a single one till the kids were born, old photos are somewhat skimpy on the ground ah what became of that carefree fellow?… guess the young are seldom carefree… just my concerns would have been along the lines of ‘where am i sleeping tonight, wheres the next party!’ oops, it’s become a maudlin’ morning now… i’m shocked my socks match… thats what happens when you dress soberly to please the fogies and more importantly what became of those groovy deckchair shorts… missing them sommat grevious! x
agoraphobic? nope not me, my heart yearns for the jostle, to be heave pressed within a throng of strangers, crowd held, the sheer sensual overwhelm, lost in a tide of hearts and fellows. agoraphilliac? is that a thing agoraphobia… my mind always stutter catches on the word, mostly as, when i was young, i thought it was aggrophobia (and indeed i am loathe to be around aggro!) and mouth mangled the word as such actually theres a herd of words i mispronounce, yesterday i got hyperbole wrong, again, ha, i like it when i open my mouth and florid gunk gibberishes forth! word glut as a youth i was a dismal bookworm, consequently i read words seldom uttered …sacred words that are forbidden to be spoken! else words that twister tongue cannot be pronounced agoraphobia… fear of open spaces? actually fear of public spaces, a subtle difference, as the root etymology of the word is agora, the greek market place basically every time i say it i imagine myself hanging out in a groovy toga and natty sandles… oh you know fist bumping plato, oiled up naked wrestling with aristotle, discussing quadratic equations with helen of troy, helping her with an lash trapped in her eye oops i’ve digressed, was there a point? yes! i’m missing people one of my ideal wednesdays would be ooh… lunchtime drop in meditation in the buddhist center, serene calm of the shrine room, the subtle shift of light, cloud shadows dappled from the skylight above, the summoning ring of singing bowl, open eyes to peer into the smile of the buddha then going for coffee with a friend, gabble natter of all that is possible… peeling away for a leisurely jaunt through the North Laine, peering at all the beautiful people… clattering accidentally into a pal, long unseen, whilst hunting for mung beans in infinity foods, we hug, then swap sweet deets of forthcoming summer festies sunset on the beach, later its a plod up the hill to dance, the ancient church of St Nicks, mad dervish whirl, howl, before subsiding into stillness… on the bus home, jolloping along the coat road, gawping at the moonlit ocean, the only other passengers 4 young efl students … who get off somewhere in the wild nether, never nowhere of peacehaven aw, you know, NORMAL life, the thrills and pleasure of civic existence! … peeps, known, and strangers, i miss you! spiel spool gently unravelling into words, putting off doing something more productive, like programming, or yoga… this the timbre and rhythm of lockdown daze x
dragon day! (st georges) a useful day to honour these the energies of the elements… the earth dragon, most prominent in the spring, felt viscerally through the surge of green pulsing and sweeping across the land, yet also serpents of water, air and fire… sometimes benign, often fierce, always magnificent… within us, the same energies, coil curled around guts and gizzard, the anxious struggle writhe of scales, stirring within the emotional body… now theres the rub, how to let these flow freely? ……… usual slew of selfies (gold and green) from earth day/new moon yestereve, plumped out with some from a walk around bishopstone earlier in the week… played for comedy… it’s facebook, but also selfies as theres nobody else to take snaps of, it’s just been me for the last week… but also selfies (again!)… it’s facebook …the clue is in the name… on the whole i’m bearing up reasonably well so far, long practiced at piffling away the days, been trying to sustain a self yoga practice (it’s not easy!), meditation, diy, sea swims, the house overflows with seedlings, also audible, netflix… yet missing connection… hugging, proper physical conversations, kinaesthetic by nature, virtual world often feels as a phantasm… grateful for the opportunity to be outside, for my comparatively comfortable circumstances very much aware theres sorrow, grief and many problems across the globe… not just emotional, but financial difficulties looming, eek… oops many moods in few words, ha, guess we’re all somewhat jumbled up creatures at the best of times?! love, blessings, serenity to one and all x
Vishudda…. the exuberant fizz of beech trees coming into soft lime leaf… a gentle blizzard, burr of brown leaf husks fills the air… pics from yesterday, found bluebells galore!… languish surrounded by them in the dappled sunshine… at ease amongst the elementals… this land, our land, heart yearn, magnificent in this spring, all the sweeter through these days of worry… hope you have the fortune to spend time in the woods
…. for lol: Ha, truth is a mouthful of my ‘beautiful’mutterings is seldom far away, cept in these curious days slightly less extroverted… You and Fran are some of the many folk I always associate with Beltane bluebell-age xx
Aw and hope your keeping up with your tales (as with muddy log in bluebell woods)… World is the richer for all of us saying it into being xx
idle pensée… hunkered down on the brow of the hill, gorse flowers, dense clumps of dragon goblet gold blackthorn with straggled open branches, creamy froth of blossom, the impossible festoon from each smidgin of surface hawthorn pushes through into soft green leaf the spell of water… peering down upon a pond, which in turn yields up the sky, a nuanced, mottled reflection of clouds… nuage a riff on the idea of ‘sky’, with its serpent deeper, more sonorous timbre, tone and flow minuet between air and water, the surface wind ruffled, pucker kiss stippled we are forever poised between this up and that down! bramble snag of mind, wistful, the yearning to tell is always one of the forms of love?
skinny love!… thats the astonishingly yum nettle pesto spaghetti rather than me teetering on the edge of doolally already… woke up somewhat manic monday this morning, which at least is a change from a week of being weary and despondent a glut of meditation, yoga and cleaning the shower!… daughter has sensibly retreated to her room
gotta love the nettle-age, snot coloured punk superstar of the spring! in some rustic, bucolic fantasy he’d gather dainty lace doilie fashion around the fringes of the woods nah round here they loiter in huge clumps on any patch of wasteland, a vibrant fresh green swathe carpet covering broken glass and rusty shopping trolleys broken ground, nettles love to be around humans, alledgedly they came over with the Romans… rust iron, sacred to aries, god of war and this months heavenly ruler like many masculine energies, often maligned, theres also a tender, benign side i tend to pick them with snip scissors and holey cotton gloves… the holes not on purpose but the occasional frisson of a sting keeps you woke! tingle-age even now, a very very mild electric shock what shall i do with them? juice most likely? but possible pesto, fricasse?… not let them languish too long at the bottom of the fridge anyway! blessings on the sunshine and my current freedom to roam up the cliffs… respite from the collective energy field of worry x
sEeds are good… sEEeeeeds are good… as surely the shamen were singing? traditionally my drabbest photo of the year… i mean its lumps of earth… tho some might well argue my usual slew of selfies border on tedium but, but seeds… think of the awesome potential! the eagle eyed may well have spotted the pots are somewhat crudely in the shape of an Om… i chanted the universal seed sound, Ommmmm, over them afterwards… biodynamic innit!?? I don’t really know what i’m doing, but bung them in some soil, sunshine, water… we all flourish better with the right conditions the most fun bit is always planting last years toms (i have perfected the rare november / never fruiting tomato)… just burst the old fruits over the the tray and admire the seedy slobber gloop i tend to mark them with little cardboard signs, which rot at the first watering, so then i have no idea, when finally they pop up, which seedling is which! this year as well as the usual toms, chillis and miscellanious squashes i’m trying runner and dwarf beans anyway first day of home alone for me, grateful, amongst so many other things for a back yard and the sunshine strange times, no idea where all this is going, stay home, stay healthy, love to y’all x
