Beckoned eventually by absolute loneliness. A life will extinguish without a last flicker of fight. Surrounded by shadows, possessions and emptiness, look back on a life steered by a hand that squeezed too tight. Every pathway hid not a door but a wall. The desired opening most impenetrable of all. Fists banged and punched until they bled. Legs kicked with an anger that burned a scorching red. Now gone forever as a body lays still, cold to the touch if there was someone to feel it. Passing on from this life with no legacy in place. A lifeless seed, a hope gone to waste. What joy can there be if we never bear fruit? What use is living when living is the end? Where was the path with a different route, instead of the maze that had a wall at every bend?
Life is a wonder to destroy or build;
Its beauty and shape for all to admire.
In this endeavour we don’t have to be skilled;
All we need is will and a burning desire.
Ignore the urge to cower and bow;
Our job is to build, that is our calling.
There’s no need to train or try to learn how;
The skills are ingrained so we need to stop stalling.
Procrastination, self-doubt and pity,
Tear down walls of our own clumsy making,
Emotions are wrecking balls in a world aready gritty;
A devastating ruin so vast and deflating.
Tools lay discarded, paralysed by rust,
Yet Utopia’s a paradise so easily erected;
When we look into our soul and find self-trust;
Faith and belief are the gateways selected;
Brave the path, it’s your world your shaping;
Temples, roads and neighbourhoods in a personal map;
The world at your feet is now so engaging;
Because life is our own – the world rests in our lap.
I had to attend a funeral today, held in a very old Orthodox church. As the mourners piled in, I found my grief numbed slightly by the beauty of the church. It made me more conscious of the beauty of life. All life. Especially mine. I wondered what I would hope for if I lived long enough to see death coming. Would I make it to old age, where the whisper of the wind becomes a faint calling from the other side; every passing Winter is a warning, every Summer a blessing, every Fall an omen and every Spring a re-birth of the will to live longer to see it all again.
The 94 year old great grandma being buried today was a lucky woman… She made it far longer than most and leaves behind a joyous legacy. Even in me for, as I sat there in the beauty of the church, grieving her passing, I found a will to live my life not for the better but for the moment – the here and now. My life, my present, my here and now, is blessed and beautiful. I just never saw it before. Thank you great Grandma and God bless you for eternity.
The colours of happiness will never appear without a border;
The darkness of sorrow, without which we’d know not joy.
Elation, it seems, is like an obsessive hoarder;
It hangs on to the fragments of life like a child clutches a toy;
Memories shade every section of our lives;
Childhood to present are strokes of a brush;
Every new colour the result of how one strives;
Blocked out with black to symbol death’s eternal hush.
Before the blackout comes a swathe of light;
See colours dance on a canvas of our making,
The dark border is there but rarely captured by sight;
Look at the edges for inner awakening;
We are framed by the dark to make more vibrant the bright.
Since entering my 30s, I’ve found my desire to paint and draw increase with a passion. Sick of looking at a computer all day, I can’t tell you how good it feels to stop thinking and start doing. Working with my hands has given me a freedom that feels euphoric.
I’ve even started modelling with play-dough, using clay, braiding friendship bracelets and finger painting. I’m loving every second and have even started looking at Arts & Craft courses at local colleges. I dream of gaining a qualification in something like Pottery, Ceramics or Glass Blowing. Quite how I would pursue my skills at home, I don’t know. But I refuse to be put off. It’s not in my nature. At least, it never used to be. I was always admired for my tenacity but then, responsibilities and the weight of life took over and I lost some of my gumption. No more. I want to channel my inner kid and do all the things I enjoy doing.
If someone says ‘No, you can’t do that!’ I’m going to stamp my foot, pout and respond: ‘Why not?’ and then do it anyway. Yes, I have responsibilities. Yes, I shouldn’t be spending any money on my hobbies during the current economic climate. Yes, I should act like a grown up and stick to a corporate career. But… No, I’m not going to do any of that. I’m going to do as I please. I’ve got one life to live and I want it to be in gloriously full colour, as illustrated with paints, chalk, crayons, stained glass and anything else that takes my fancy!
A merry-go-round forever spinning in high gear,
A playground for all to love and to fear,
A new road branches behind every bend,
A devil’s delight or a true God-send?
Instructions and rules are broken and discarded,
The grim reaper stays close though often disregarded,
Angels tread lightly without making a sound;
Silent watchers of the merry-go-round.
Some will jump off, others ride for the duration,
The former labelled ‘weak’, the latter praised for ‘dedication’,
Pace never changes yet each ride is unique,
Scenery swirls past but you can find what you seek,
For open minds have widely opened eyes,
While closed hearts mourn nothing but sad goodbyes.
To say I’ve had a bad week doesn’t even begin to describe it. It has been upsetting, emotional and truly frightening. Though feeling good right now isn’t coming naturally, I still need to try. It’s important to have something to cure at least part of the blues… or to occupy my mind long enough to at least forget about them for a portion of the night.
I took to trawling the web to immerse myself in my favourite hobby; antique & vintage. Vintage beads, vintage gowns, antique jewellery – I love anything from a bygone era where everyone’s problems were easily concealed behind a vaneer of glitz and glamour. I wish my life was a glitzy postcard right now. Sadly, it’s not, but sometimes it’s the little things which really help…
I happened upon this show-stopping 1940s wedding gown on Etsy – a welcome pick-me-up to take my mind off things. When I gaze upon its beauty I feel a sense of warmth and hope. There is beauty in the world. There is beauty in our endeavours and achievements as human beings. There is beauty in the love we can find in our own lifetimes.
We may never know the background of the bride who wore this gown, but I hope that hers was a happy story, unfolded throughout a life-long marriage filled with love. The beauty of her life continues through this gown. It has endured for 70 years; a lifetime. It has carried with it the memories of a deep love which was celebrated and marked by marriage. Should you chose to buy it and let it share in your own experience of love, perhaps it will endure for another 70 years and bring warmth and wonder for many more brides in the years to come:
It has a collar to draw attention to your face, a lace waist to draw the eye down and a beautiful bow at the back to amaze the wedding guests during your vows. If only my life was as perfect as this dress. Sigh.
You thought you wanted it, then you had it, you got it, you got me,
Only to hate it, reject it, destroy the whole fantasy.
For you life as a player,
It seems it has to be,
Gaming and shaming,
Paining and breaking,
No conscience to tame it,
Prevent the whole tragedy.
I often ask God “why would you target me?”
Becoming a victim of someone so openly
Devoted to notches,
Chasing bare crotches.
Proud of his attitude,
No conscience to stop it.
If time could reverse I’d willingly clock it,
To erase our first contact,
Just dead it and drop it,
No cast-off label,
No sad-ending fable,
See who’s worth trusting
Who’s only lusting
Who’s only gaming, playing and hustling.
Now we have friendship,
Damaged for life,
Ruined and weakened all by your pride.
Something to brag about,
To show off to your friends,
Putting nails in the coffin,
Remember when it ends,
Game and gaming killed,
What was once yours to treasure;
A soul that was happy, now tarnished forever.
Work – it’s the Devil’s tool of destruction / an instigator in Freedom’s abduction /the menace of work is little understood /no-one fathoms that which they should / works makes us servants, shackled for life / with little hope of an end to the strife / months and years in forced servitude / killing your spirit, destroying your mood / life should be lived and joyously good / if only, if only, would that it could.
We’ve all got things that make us individual. By that I don’t mean our genetic make-up or physical appearance. I’m talking about the unique traits and characteristics that make us the quirky and interesting people that we really are.
In my case, I have several stand-out features… I’m deaf in one ear. This is by far the greatest physical gift that God could have given me. Think about it… I get a peaceful, silent night’s kip by sleeping on my good ear… when I’m in the club, cornered by a boring geezer who wants to chat rubbish in my ear – I can let him! I put him on my bad side and strategically nod now and again, hoping that I’m not agreeing to anything obscene. From habit, I lip read so I always look at people’s mouths when they talk rather than into their eyes. When there’s a buff bloke in my face, I don’t even need to chat him up. He instinctively assumes that my lip reading is actually body language for ‘I want you’ and does all the work. Sweet!
Then there’s my one-handed typing. People have tried to stamp out this trait by sending me on various typing courses. Still, I refuse to conform. Why waste two hands on a keyboard when you can type with one and hold your mug of tea in the other? Aren’t we supposed to be the ‘multi-tasking’ generation? And I can type over 70 words per minute so it’s not like I’m typing like a tortoise… It’s a gift I tell you!
And then there’s my relationship with shoes. I need new shoes. Every week. I can’t survive without them. My little feet need to feel the comfort of soft new leather, the pressure of a slim sexy heel, the comfort of a hand-stitched sole… There are shoes out there that call my name as I walk by them in the store. They say ‘Nix, take me home.’ And I do. Quite often, I buy two pairs of the same shoe – one to wear and one to keep, like a piece of rare and beautiful art. If only men were as good looking…
I am truly unique. And I love it.