heart felt thanks for all the birthday greetings… 57 today, here i am cream crackered, just having ran for 57 minutes (9.973 km) to Seaford head and back to Tidemills. tidy!
daughters coming over, haven’t seen her since she’s back from greece, so we’ll have a mellow day… eat pie, drink prosecco, go for a walk, swim in the sea… tho deffo not in that order!
‘Love people, both despite, and for, all their flaws… then have the wisdom to both acknowledge and cherish, the myriad impossibly beautiful ways the world loves us back’
i adore composing a sentimental aphorism
ha, i like this photo, accidentally blinked, which is as well for my red rheumy hay fever frazzled eyes, makes me look like a goofball mystic meg, ‘the closed eyes of the seer representing spiritual vision’.. or in my case, the fact that i haven’t got a clue in which direction i’m going!
enjoying running at the mo, as you get older treat your body well, just so that you can utterly take it for granted when you need too… because when wedged down the front at a festie, the crowd goes mad i want to wild whirling dervish frenzy with da best of them!
today, jogging along beside the oomph of the mighty ocean, grubbing across the willow strewn marshlands, then weaving in between the dog walkers along the promenade
if i was fit would have blundered on over seaford head and to teh seven sisters beyond., no hills for me.. dullard but determined!
narrowly missed out on making the 10k target in the allotted 57 mins. put that down to having guzzled way too much cacao and been to a dance yesterday evening
last night i dreamt of flying… not the bobbing along banging your head on a chandelier, like a helium balloon, type of flying
but rather that which begins with a balletic leap or two, then, with practice, carving your way through the air, with skill and diligence you begin to soar.
Outside above the tops of the trees, looking down, see those people below?… ‘tally ho land lubbers! ground huggers! you FLOOR BOTHERERS!’
to swoop, plummet, then soar
i alight, it is dawn, sit cross legged on the banks of the river, a sense of summoning, imminence, she is near, robed in the gentle colours of the sun rise, Sri Lakshmi, Venus Aphrodite, the goddess
dreams eh! have a beautiful day xx
look!! the troll who lives in the toaster… feasting on burnt bread shrapnel … crumbs! (literally CRUMBS) tis like a tardis in there… puts me in mind of my meteorite, which i’d proudly parade to visitors, a blackened husk of a thing from the depths of outer space… turned out to be but a baked potato lost for several eternities in the back of the oven
tis bloooooms day (Joyces Ulysses set on the 16th June 1904)… preposterous book… prague my proxy for dublin… took me years to wade my way to the end of that mighty tome!
everywhere i went the only things I had in my brightly coloured hippy duffle bag, juggling clubs and a much battered copy of Ulysses… both seldom used… yet parks, pubs, raves… whatever time of day or night, however wrecked when i’d meander home, somehow i never lost my bag
must have started the book at least 10 times… beautiful gibberish… ooh its about hmmm death, music, politics, family, lechery… and everything in between… a hologram of much of the universe
if you’ve finished it presume your an intellectual, a pseud, have had far too much time on your hands, are dogged and tenacious… and that you LOVE words… personally, I think its fab!
oops enough of the maudlin’ reminisce… i was going to say, get the audio book of ulysses… it’s read by Bishop Len Brennan from Father Ted (apparently a famous Irish thesp)… deeply nuanced… he switches voices mid sentence… makes it much easier to understand
as the often the book is several voices gabbling over the top of each other within a single coagulated convoluted sentence. hurrah!
wild cherries… sweet/sticky… purple/black… found these on a cycle today… thoughts tumbled back to ooh June 92, Praha… Sabina and I jumped the wall into an orchard somewhere below the castle
clambered high, high into the swaying branches, there to guzzle cherries from the tree.. laughing, juice drool on our lips… sweet/sticky… purple/black
noo bouffant… transPlant… follicle profusion… as the sanskrit proverb: ‘ALWAYS trust a man with lettuce on his head’
Elderflowers and wild Roses, the fragrant pong, the mood of early june
its been an emotionally turbulent time, sorrow, but also huge dollops of fun, dancing, there is usually dancing!
i’m impressed by the beautiful fickleness of the human soul… sometimes tears in the morning, yet laughter later… allow to flow through… wind harp
we are so versatile, intricately tuned
lots of root chakra stuff for me… being outside and in the body, a balm… smelling salts, counterbalance, to powerful thought
only when grounded, tethered can the heart truly flourish. peace x