Ah, that funny time of year again...Christmas is about kids and we don't have any. Been buying presents for all the god-children - we get them a special book each every year - and thinking about buying them for my own kids one year. Lots of my clients had babies in the last few weeks; the perfect Christmas present. They've been blissed out and exhausted and overwhelmed and joyful and sleepless and tearful. It is still a joy to share it all.
Planning a visit to see my beloved friend in Africa next year. I've been putting it off for so long in case I might be pregnant/breastfeeding etc. but there's a limit to how many years I can postpone a visit just in case! So I am going to book the tickets as a Christmas present to myself, to remind myself that every day is precious and fun and to be enjoyed and explored into each of its corners. This is my life and it is not on hold.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Today I have a luxurious day off which I have so far spent doing very little - lying in bed with a magazine (crazy, the guilt kicks in and then I think, No! Relax and enjoy!), eating a leisurely breakfast and sitting here chatting with my R. Thinking back to those days at the cottage when R would dash out the door at 6.30am and we wouldn't see each other all day, makes me realise how far we have come in creating a more chilled and connected way of living - it's easy to forget when it becomes 'normal'! We talked so much in those days about finding a way we could be together more and R could stop commuting (and losing his hair from stress and lack of sleep!). And we found it. Though living on a boat was not exactly what I had in mind, it has proved to be a transformative time in which we both, but R in particular, have discovered a lot about what makes us tick. It's been a big year in that sense.
So today, before I go out and do (all - eek!) my Christmas shopping I just wanted to remember how happy it feels to be hanging out here on the boat with R. He is currently fitting a mini woodburner for our next predicted bout of snow so toasty evenings in by the fire here we come!
So today, before I go out and do (all - eek!) my Christmas shopping I just wanted to remember how happy it feels to be hanging out here on the boat with R. He is currently fitting a mini woodburner for our next predicted bout of snow so toasty evenings in by the fire here we come!
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Winter musings....
Wow...it's been so long since I posted. So long. Almost feels like a lifetime ago. I don't know why because nothing major has happened but things have been emotionally tumultuous.
Something I (finally) begun learning about was self-care. This has been a whole unfolding journey I am only just beginning to understand, but I started going to a natural nutrition course at the end of the summer which literally blew my mind. It gave me a lot of tools for bringing more light into the body, for nurturing and caring for myself throughout the seasons. It felt empowering.
And then came winter. I struggle with these darker contracted months so much. I can't tell you how lovely the summer months were; it felt like R and I had truly freed ourselves from something. We were blissful - long evenings walking along the seafront and watching the sea's changing moods; lots of social fun and laughter; time together despite busy schedules.
But these winter months bring up a mixed bag of blues and greys and sometimes blacks. In the Chinese five elements school of thought, winter is connected to the lungs and to grief. We found out in September that my mum has MS. She had known for along time but didn't feel ready to tell us until it really became obvious that something was wrong. She has been in denial for a long time. Her mum - my grandmother - had a very severe case of MS and was physically battered by it when she died in 2004. Since she told us, Mum has had two bad falls, breaking bones and shattering self confidence. She is getting around with a stick and starting to feel a little better....but oh, what a lot this brings up. It's like tilling the soil of an abandoned field of sadness. All of us remembering Nanny's illness and hoping this time it will be different. And sometimes I think I just can't reach in to Mum because this fear is hers alone...to lie with in the dawn hours. I think the cruellest thing about disease is how lonely it is. She is, as ever, keeping upbeat and positive in her warm sweet way. Nothing unfolds like you thought it would when you imagined your adulthood.
Work has been busier than ever. It has literally suddenly taken off - I was chuckling at my summer posts planning long days that R and I hung out together in our new boat life. I have been working long hours, late into the evening and coming back tired and crabby. R has been his beautiful, supportive self: cooking me nourishing meals, rubbing my feet, making me hot water bottles. I love him so much and sometimes I just forget it because I'm nagging him about where he stores his shoes or the fact he's left his towel on the bed etc. It has recently become clear to me that I tend to forget to look at what is beautiful in each moment - it gets lost in the cotton wool of life. In these crazy months of weird imbalance, his small kindnesses keep me stable. His love is a precious thing.
We are blessed to have a new little beacon of light in our lives - our new dog B (I accidentally wrote 'god' which isn't actually so far off the mark when it comes to worship!). She literally come into our lives and radiated her love into every corner (and after G's death, she had some big pawprints to fill...). Such a loving, exuberant little being - everyone here at the marina adores her. Having a puppy of course narrows down your options in some ways - no more popping out for an impromptu meal/cinema etc. - but in others just opens them up. Taking a long seaside stroll each morning does wonders to clear the mind and remind me to live in the now. Watching apricot strips of dawn sun streak experimentally across the icy clouds this morning was magic for the soul. We're also lucky that everyone seems to love B, our friends and family are only too happy to let her jump on their sofas just for a bit of that B blissed out companionship! It's cosy on the boat with her and Captain Cat but we muddle through. I've always loved a space filled with animals and think it is always warmer and good for the heart!
Writing this post made me reflect on the name of my blog - A Fertility Journey. Somehow, in the stress, overwhelm and emotional wobbly-ness of the last few months, trying to get pregnant has been the furthest thing from my mind. That's not to say it would not be the most incredible (unbelievable?! Gotta work with that deeply held idea) thing to happen ever, just that we haven't been making the time to love and connect with each other and so I think it's probably a good thing that we haven't conceived in this cold little chip of a time. I want our baby to feel the bliss from within our two bodies when he or she is conceived. We have both been tired and crabby and because my work is about looking after others all day, I really feel the need for my marriage, friendships and family relationships to be very nourishing and feel disillusioned when there is discord.
The funny thing is - I have created this reality for myself. I have chosen to spend my days rushing around, meeting the needs of others and feeling disconnected as a result. Writing this and writing in my journal has been the impetus I need to get back in touch with the light within, to stop expecting so much of myself and to make space to nurture. To be quiet and watch the sea. To light a candle and stare at the flame. To listen to the birds. To have a lovely long lie-in. Watch this space....
Something I (finally) begun learning about was self-care. This has been a whole unfolding journey I am only just beginning to understand, but I started going to a natural nutrition course at the end of the summer which literally blew my mind. It gave me a lot of tools for bringing more light into the body, for nurturing and caring for myself throughout the seasons. It felt empowering.
And then came winter. I struggle with these darker contracted months so much. I can't tell you how lovely the summer months were; it felt like R and I had truly freed ourselves from something. We were blissful - long evenings walking along the seafront and watching the sea's changing moods; lots of social fun and laughter; time together despite busy schedules.
But these winter months bring up a mixed bag of blues and greys and sometimes blacks. In the Chinese five elements school of thought, winter is connected to the lungs and to grief. We found out in September that my mum has MS. She had known for along time but didn't feel ready to tell us until it really became obvious that something was wrong. She has been in denial for a long time. Her mum - my grandmother - had a very severe case of MS and was physically battered by it when she died in 2004. Since she told us, Mum has had two bad falls, breaking bones and shattering self confidence. She is getting around with a stick and starting to feel a little better....but oh, what a lot this brings up. It's like tilling the soil of an abandoned field of sadness. All of us remembering Nanny's illness and hoping this time it will be different. And sometimes I think I just can't reach in to Mum because this fear is hers alone...to lie with in the dawn hours. I think the cruellest thing about disease is how lonely it is. She is, as ever, keeping upbeat and positive in her warm sweet way. Nothing unfolds like you thought it would when you imagined your adulthood.
Work has been busier than ever. It has literally suddenly taken off - I was chuckling at my summer posts planning long days that R and I hung out together in our new boat life. I have been working long hours, late into the evening and coming back tired and crabby. R has been his beautiful, supportive self: cooking me nourishing meals, rubbing my feet, making me hot water bottles. I love him so much and sometimes I just forget it because I'm nagging him about where he stores his shoes or the fact he's left his towel on the bed etc. It has recently become clear to me that I tend to forget to look at what is beautiful in each moment - it gets lost in the cotton wool of life. In these crazy months of weird imbalance, his small kindnesses keep me stable. His love is a precious thing.
We are blessed to have a new little beacon of light in our lives - our new dog B (I accidentally wrote 'god' which isn't actually so far off the mark when it comes to worship!). She literally come into our lives and radiated her love into every corner (and after G's death, she had some big pawprints to fill...). Such a loving, exuberant little being - everyone here at the marina adores her. Having a puppy of course narrows down your options in some ways - no more popping out for an impromptu meal/cinema etc. - but in others just opens them up. Taking a long seaside stroll each morning does wonders to clear the mind and remind me to live in the now. Watching apricot strips of dawn sun streak experimentally across the icy clouds this morning was magic for the soul. We're also lucky that everyone seems to love B, our friends and family are only too happy to let her jump on their sofas just for a bit of that B blissed out companionship! It's cosy on the boat with her and Captain Cat but we muddle through. I've always loved a space filled with animals and think it is always warmer and good for the heart!
Writing this post made me reflect on the name of my blog - A Fertility Journey. Somehow, in the stress, overwhelm and emotional wobbly-ness of the last few months, trying to get pregnant has been the furthest thing from my mind. That's not to say it would not be the most incredible (unbelievable?! Gotta work with that deeply held idea) thing to happen ever, just that we haven't been making the time to love and connect with each other and so I think it's probably a good thing that we haven't conceived in this cold little chip of a time. I want our baby to feel the bliss from within our two bodies when he or she is conceived. We have both been tired and crabby and because my work is about looking after others all day, I really feel the need for my marriage, friendships and family relationships to be very nourishing and feel disillusioned when there is discord.
The funny thing is - I have created this reality for myself. I have chosen to spend my days rushing around, meeting the needs of others and feeling disconnected as a result. Writing this and writing in my journal has been the impetus I need to get back in touch with the light within, to stop expecting so much of myself and to make space to nurture. To be quiet and watch the sea. To light a candle and stare at the flame. To listen to the birds. To have a lovely long lie-in. Watch this space....
Friday, 30 July 2010
Alive
I am alive in this moment, right here, right now. The rain is pattering on the wooden roof on the boat, it's cosy within with our new solar lighting (clever hubby is already spending his work-free days wisely!!). There are seabirds calling as they come in to roost on nearby rooftops. Our kitty, back from the brink of imagined impending doom by some overzealous vets, is eating chicken in our galley kitchen. He's fine and happy, loving his cuddles as ever. We went out to sea today for a crazy wild sail in a friend's boat - the sense of thrill and adrenalin is still within when I remember the boat ripping through the waves tilted on its side. Shit, I was scared!!! But I was also excited and felt completely, fully alive and alert. I felt/feel in awe of the vastness of the oceans, of their changing moods and colours, their drama and danger. How a beautiful calm blue sea can turn into a frenzied grey whirlpool in moments...
Sometimes, like just now, when I lie on my bed in the boat, I imagine all the creatures beneath me, right down to the murky depths. The sea pulsing her sweet rhythms on the underside of our boat, the fish moving as one beneath the hull.
I have been having a beautiful and weirdly wonderful connection with all the babies I've seen in the last few days. When I pass them in pushchairs and prams in the shops, we stare at one another for what feels like ages, their eyes following mine as we go our separate ways. I say weird simply because I thought a baby's range of vision didn't extend that far... But it feels special, sacred, as if they can sense something or know something I have lost a connection to. These wise souls just arrived, they know it all.
Sometimes, like just now, when I lie on my bed in the boat, I imagine all the creatures beneath me, right down to the murky depths. The sea pulsing her sweet rhythms on the underside of our boat, the fish moving as one beneath the hull.
I have been having a beautiful and weirdly wonderful connection with all the babies I've seen in the last few days. When I pass them in pushchairs and prams in the shops, we stare at one another for what feels like ages, their eyes following mine as we go our separate ways. I say weird simply because I thought a baby's range of vision didn't extend that far... But it feels special, sacred, as if they can sense something or know something I have lost a connection to. These wise souls just arrived, they know it all.
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
good conversation
Two interesting conversations I had yesterday and today:
1). Yesterday, I saw a client who I have known and treated for nearly five years and who has now become a good friend as we both write. I started seeing her towards the end of her TTC journey four years ago when I didn't really understand (I also wrote an article on holistic health for fertility around this time that still makes me cringe!! - as with all things, you kinda have to experience it to get it!) but tried to treat her with love and compassion.
I didn't see her again until she was pregnant with her child who is now 2. I saw her yesterday and she is pregnant with her second. Although I don't usually tell clients about our journey, I recently told her because, as I say, we'd transcended some of the therapist/client boundaries by becoming friends anyway! She told me that she had tried EVERYTHING under the sun: acupuncture, nutrition, healing, reflexology (from me - eek!) and, finally, IVF. Eventually she decided to go back to university and study and set up a band. Within six months, she was pregnant (after a night out with a few drinks and unhealthy food!). The same happened with her second though this time they weren't really trying at all as they'd been told it was medically impossible. A birthday party with friends and whoops, along comes number two! True magical miracles. Her story really made me feel good.
2). A lady came up and chatted to me today when I was sat on the deck of the boat. Funnily enough, her friend subscribes to the magazine I edit so we were talking about that and then about her beautiful daughter asleep in her pushchair. She told me that she didn't think her daughter 'would have come along' unless they had moved to a boat and pursued a simpler, far less stressful life. Soon after they sold their house and downsized to a peaceful boat, they conceived. Well, you can imagine that was music to my ears!
Only 4 days until R leaves his job for good and we are together...I picture long cycle rides along the seafront, fish and chips on the beach, time to laugh and talk with one another, picnics in the park...we'll have much less cash but much more bliss. I can't wait.
1). Yesterday, I saw a client who I have known and treated for nearly five years and who has now become a good friend as we both write. I started seeing her towards the end of her TTC journey four years ago when I didn't really understand (I also wrote an article on holistic health for fertility around this time that still makes me cringe!! - as with all things, you kinda have to experience it to get it!) but tried to treat her with love and compassion.
I didn't see her again until she was pregnant with her child who is now 2. I saw her yesterday and she is pregnant with her second. Although I don't usually tell clients about our journey, I recently told her because, as I say, we'd transcended some of the therapist/client boundaries by becoming friends anyway! She told me that she had tried EVERYTHING under the sun: acupuncture, nutrition, healing, reflexology (from me - eek!) and, finally, IVF. Eventually she decided to go back to university and study and set up a band. Within six months, she was pregnant (after a night out with a few drinks and unhealthy food!). The same happened with her second though this time they weren't really trying at all as they'd been told it was medically impossible. A birthday party with friends and whoops, along comes number two! True magical miracles. Her story really made me feel good.
2). A lady came up and chatted to me today when I was sat on the deck of the boat. Funnily enough, her friend subscribes to the magazine I edit so we were talking about that and then about her beautiful daughter asleep in her pushchair. She told me that she didn't think her daughter 'would have come along' unless they had moved to a boat and pursued a simpler, far less stressful life. Soon after they sold their house and downsized to a peaceful boat, they conceived. Well, you can imagine that was music to my ears!
Only 4 days until R leaves his job for good and we are together...I picture long cycle rides along the seafront, fish and chips on the beach, time to laugh and talk with one another, picnics in the park...we'll have much less cash but much more bliss. I can't wait.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Really getting into the Abraham teachings channelled through Esther Hicks - books such as 'The Law of Attraction', 'Ask and it is Given' etc. If this all sounds a little loopy and not really me, it's not a cult or anything. I was hugely skeptical when my friend M got really into their stuff years ago and for a long time I tended to filter stuff out when clients raved about it. Eventually my sister (wise one, always gently pushing me forward on my path) was talking about some of the stuff she'd learnt from them and she bought me one of their books.
I was lying in the park having had a long conversation with a stranger about her not being able to have children. She was 51 and resigned to a childless life so we were talking about adoption and fostering and then we naturally moved on to our beloved pets and how much they mean in our lives. I was playing back all the things we had said to one another, all the ways in which we had affirmed our status in life as childless...our conversation, having sprung from nowhere really, made me very thoughtful. I pulled out the book my sister had given me ('Manifest Your Desires') and turned to the first page I was drawn to. This is what I read:
'If there is something that you desire that you currently do not have, you need only put your attention upon it, and, by the Law of Attraction, it will come to you. However, if there is something that you desire that you currently do not have, and you put your attention upon your current state of not-having-it, then the Law of Attraction will continue to match that not-having-it vibration, so you will continue to not have that which you desire.'
I knew this in my heart of hearts. I think that most of the time I live my truth, I think I fill my mind with positive, hopeful thoughts. I think. But there I was having a conversation with a perfect stranger about my not having children. I think about that far more than I think about a blissful future full of children. I was amazed that this lesson was thrown onto my path at this auspicious moment. I lay in stillness, watching sunlight reflect off the black feathers of a bird, smelling the rich brown earth and thinking 'wow, I am alive! In this moment!'
So I began listening to some of their CDs, I don't want to slavishly follow their stuff, I just love to accumulate more beautiful thoughts, ways of inspiring and uplifting myself and those around me... And it has reminded me to listen to my lovely fertility hypnosis CD which includes visualizing R and I and a baby, and a baby growing in my womb. It feels good to channel my energies into these pursuits rather than on feeling angry/sad/resentful for what hasn't yet manifest. That makes me feel stuck, depressed, heavy, grey.
I am learning to put my intentions out into the Universe and to trust that all will be okay. I needed that reminder to float into my life just now.
I was lying in the park having had a long conversation with a stranger about her not being able to have children. She was 51 and resigned to a childless life so we were talking about adoption and fostering and then we naturally moved on to our beloved pets and how much they mean in our lives. I was playing back all the things we had said to one another, all the ways in which we had affirmed our status in life as childless...our conversation, having sprung from nowhere really, made me very thoughtful. I pulled out the book my sister had given me ('Manifest Your Desires') and turned to the first page I was drawn to. This is what I read:
'If there is something that you desire that you currently do not have, you need only put your attention upon it, and, by the Law of Attraction, it will come to you. However, if there is something that you desire that you currently do not have, and you put your attention upon your current state of not-having-it, then the Law of Attraction will continue to match that not-having-it vibration, so you will continue to not have that which you desire.'
I knew this in my heart of hearts. I think that most of the time I live my truth, I think I fill my mind with positive, hopeful thoughts. I think. But there I was having a conversation with a perfect stranger about my not having children. I think about that far more than I think about a blissful future full of children. I was amazed that this lesson was thrown onto my path at this auspicious moment. I lay in stillness, watching sunlight reflect off the black feathers of a bird, smelling the rich brown earth and thinking 'wow, I am alive! In this moment!'
So I began listening to some of their CDs, I don't want to slavishly follow their stuff, I just love to accumulate more beautiful thoughts, ways of inspiring and uplifting myself and those around me... And it has reminded me to listen to my lovely fertility hypnosis CD which includes visualizing R and I and a baby, and a baby growing in my womb. It feels good to channel my energies into these pursuits rather than on feeling angry/sad/resentful for what hasn't yet manifest. That makes me feel stuck, depressed, heavy, grey.
I am learning to put my intentions out into the Universe and to trust that all will be okay. I needed that reminder to float into my life just now.
Monday, 12 July 2010
So, I just cancelled my place on a baby massage instructor training course. I thought it would be the ideal thing to compliment my work as a pregnancy massage therapist as I tend to gradually lose touch with my clients after the babies are born. I so enjoy meeting their babies for the first time, holding them when I have come to know them so well in the womb and connected with their phenomenal wise energy. But at the weekend I suddenly just thought about being faced with a whole room of new mums and dads and their little people and realised I could not do it. Yes, business-wise, it'd be great. But emotionally I think it would be a step too far.
Somehow, without realising, we've entered a new phase of waiting to become a family. Moving onto the boat heralded a new chapter and all the immense changes and challenges it threw up meant our attentions were focused elsewhere. We did not chat about fertility so much, my fertility vitamins ran out and I forgot to buy new ones, the acupuncture petered out....
And here is the strangest part; family and friends seem to have accepted our childless status. When my cousin's wife became pregnant, my dad told me without the usual quiet acknowledgment of our own emptiness. Friends on their second and third pregnancies are no longer careful what they say. Hey, I'm not saying I want everyone tiptoeing around me but it seems so odd that it's been completely forgotten. As if R and I had said some time back we didn't want kids or something.
And around us, friends and family become pregnant, give birth, have houses full of toddlers, birthday parties are celebrated, the years keep on ticking by....
I feel strange today because an old client got in touch as she's in her last trimester and wanted to book pregnancy massage up until the due date and I thought 'hang on, when did that happen?!' With those first pregnancies of friends and clients, I was right on hand, massaging, allaying fears, supporting, sharing birth books, cooking nourishing food for new mum, rocking babies etc etc. I would bake cakes and draw pictures to decorate the nurseries and now...well, these days it seems babies pop out of nowhere - I'll bump into a non-pregnant friend and ten minutes later I'll see her again and she'll be 6 months gone. Hmmmm, know this says more about my general reclusiveness than anything else. But today I feel sad and that's just how it is.
Somehow, without realising, we've entered a new phase of waiting to become a family. Moving onto the boat heralded a new chapter and all the immense changes and challenges it threw up meant our attentions were focused elsewhere. We did not chat about fertility so much, my fertility vitamins ran out and I forgot to buy new ones, the acupuncture petered out....
And here is the strangest part; family and friends seem to have accepted our childless status. When my cousin's wife became pregnant, my dad told me without the usual quiet acknowledgment of our own emptiness. Friends on their second and third pregnancies are no longer careful what they say. Hey, I'm not saying I want everyone tiptoeing around me but it seems so odd that it's been completely forgotten. As if R and I had said some time back we didn't want kids or something.
And around us, friends and family become pregnant, give birth, have houses full of toddlers, birthday parties are celebrated, the years keep on ticking by....
I feel strange today because an old client got in touch as she's in her last trimester and wanted to book pregnancy massage up until the due date and I thought 'hang on, when did that happen?!' With those first pregnancies of friends and clients, I was right on hand, massaging, allaying fears, supporting, sharing birth books, cooking nourishing food for new mum, rocking babies etc etc. I would bake cakes and draw pictures to decorate the nurseries and now...well, these days it seems babies pop out of nowhere - I'll bump into a non-pregnant friend and ten minutes later I'll see her again and she'll be 6 months gone. Hmmmm, know this says more about my general reclusiveness than anything else. But today I feel sad and that's just how it is.
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
goodbye to a dear animal spirit
It's been a long time since I last posted but for very good reason. Our dearest beloved friend G the sausage dog passed into the Light at 8.40am on Sunday 13th June. We spent a week prior to that trying to make her life as peaceful and restful as it could be for a dog suffering from heart failure. I went to pick her up from our friend's house (or her 'other mum' as she was the original owner and we 'shared' the dog after she went travelling for several years) on Saturday 5th June and noticed that she was breathless and exhausted. Her other mum felt it would not be long and we nursed her through a long dark night, fearing the worst. After a visit to the vets in the morning, armed with heart drugs and a diagnosis we took her home with a 50/50 chance of survival.I felt strange prolonging the inevitable - is it fair to fill our wise animals with drugs to prolong their lives if they are suffering? But the extra week it gave us filled our hearts with love and joy. We both took time off work to nurture and care for our little friend, spent time gazing at the clouds and lying in the grass asking the Goddess to protect and care for her. Friends visited and gave her reiki, she was surrounded by crystals donated by our neices who tenderly sang and cared for her, she nibbled on her favourite treats and slowly, slowly we came to realise it was the end of her time with us.
On the last night, she shared the bed with us (as she had done all week, we got minimal sleep!) and I stayed up with her and tried to help her on her Journey. I knew her time was coming, I did not want her to suffer but I also wanted to follow her lead. I pulled an Angel card earlier in the week - Listening - and in those final hours, when my heart filled with doubt and R thought we should call out a vet to put her down, I went on a journey to meet her Higher Self. There she was, on a woodland path, with a sparkle of circular light at the end, and in her endless generosity she was turning back to see that we were okay. I asked her if she needed help and from the look she gave me I knew I was in the presence of a wise, wise spirit and simply to trust with all my heart. We called her other mum in the morning to tell her that it would not be long and she wanted G to come to her beautiful peaceful seaside home to lie in the grass and feel the healing energies all around. She talked about getting a vet to help her 'over the bridge'. I whispered to G 'we're taking you home, my darling' and after R had got up to collect her things, she died. Beside me there on the bed, the light went out in her eyes. Wise wise soul, how blessed we were to be guardians of your sweet, bright spirit and to be recipients of your manifold gifts.
Through G, I came to understand the meaning of Unconditional Love, love given freely from the heart. She was always by our sides; gentle, centring, present. I witnessed awe at the mysteries of existence and came to realise how death is like birth...if we are able to step back and allow, if we let go of our need to control and completely surrender, then almighty Nature knows what to do. I know there will come a time when I am birthing alone, or just with R and my sister by my side, when I will call on the wisdom of those eyes, recall the beauty and truth of complete surrender. As the days become weeks without her here, I have come to know that we were gifted an enlightened spirit who gifted us great love, joy and wisdom.
On Saturday we are gathering with a group of G's favourite human companions to raise a glass, plant a tree, remember happy times and set off Chinese lanterns into the night sky....may she always know peace and light
Friday, 28 May 2010
Ahoy there!
We're aboard! Officially aboard on our lovely, leaky, problematic but nonetheless adorable houseboat. Perhaps I will somehow get over my technophobia and share some pictures with you... I have started a new blog describing our life aboard http://seashantiesandsausages.blogspot.com which I hope you will visit. I know I am not always the most reliable of bloggers, but what with writing my journal and walking and working and eating and sleeping and loving my most loveable of husbands I kind of run out of time. I hope that time is something we'll have much more of here, without working slavishly to make ends meet.
R is giving up his job on 20th July and will officially be free, free, free! I'm so happy for him, feel that this de-institutionalisation (hey, that's a word and a half) will be what he needs to relax and revive him. And there's nothing quite so lovely as seeing him getting stuck in on deck, using his hands, being creative, not draining away in an office suffocated in a shirt and tie. I have yearned for this freedom for him for so long, want to see him become his true self again. I have taken another job so that we've got a bit of extra cash coming in and he doesn't have to worry financially ('cause it seems to me that's what men like to do).
The social worker didn't get back in touch with me. Perhaps she thought my email about living on a houseboat was mad? Well, her silence gave me pause for thought. Life has thrown up so many synchronisities of late that I'd be burying my head in the sand if I ignored them. Whisperings everywhere I turn, urging me to wait. Wait. Pause for a moment. So, I am going to enjoy the liberation of throwing away the charts and the thermometer and just enjoy a summer of relaxation, watching my lover mend the boat, singing sea shanties, that kinda thing. And we'll see what the future holds. I'm not going to get too hung up on the future just now, I want to be present IN THIS MOMENT and enjoy it. If, by some crazy chance, we did pregnant, I would still like to adopt one day, not least because we've done so much emotional preparation but also because it's always felt like a calling (if that doesn't sound too pompous), one I didn't know was that strong until the last few months.
Did you see the magical magnificent moon last night? She'd been up to all kinds of full moon mischief with things breaking, going missing, exploding (in the case of a boiler at work), blocking (in the case of my sister's drains - not her personal drains, mind) and leaking. What turmoil and havoc at play! And then there she was, casting a bright shimmering pathway across the sea, perfect and still in all her May glory. I made a wish and basked in her beauty.
R is giving up his job on 20th July and will officially be free, free, free! I'm so happy for him, feel that this de-institutionalisation (hey, that's a word and a half) will be what he needs to relax and revive him. And there's nothing quite so lovely as seeing him getting stuck in on deck, using his hands, being creative, not draining away in an office suffocated in a shirt and tie. I have yearned for this freedom for him for so long, want to see him become his true self again. I have taken another job so that we've got a bit of extra cash coming in and he doesn't have to worry financially ('cause it seems to me that's what men like to do).
The social worker didn't get back in touch with me. Perhaps she thought my email about living on a houseboat was mad? Well, her silence gave me pause for thought. Life has thrown up so many synchronisities of late that I'd be burying my head in the sand if I ignored them. Whisperings everywhere I turn, urging me to wait. Wait. Pause for a moment. So, I am going to enjoy the liberation of throwing away the charts and the thermometer and just enjoy a summer of relaxation, watching my lover mend the boat, singing sea shanties, that kinda thing. And we'll see what the future holds. I'm not going to get too hung up on the future just now, I want to be present IN THIS MOMENT and enjoy it. If, by some crazy chance, we did pregnant, I would still like to adopt one day, not least because we've done so much emotional preparation but also because it's always felt like a calling (if that doesn't sound too pompous), one I didn't know was that strong until the last few months.
Did you see the magical magnificent moon last night? She'd been up to all kinds of full moon mischief with things breaking, going missing, exploding (in the case of a boiler at work), blocking (in the case of my sister's drains - not her personal drains, mind) and leaking. What turmoil and havoc at play! And then there she was, casting a bright shimmering pathway across the sea, perfect and still in all her May glory. I made a wish and basked in her beauty.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
packing, drumming, chanting...
The day after our 3rd anniversary...but it's been 10 years since we met so a very special year all round. I still haven't heard back from our social worker after pouring my heart out to her in an email about why we were moving onto a houseboat. I so hope no news is good news. I'm kneeling on my slippers to write this because everything is either in boxes or going to charity (including the computer chair). Massive, massive purge today...my sister helped me let go of a huge amount of stuff, a lot of which we put outside the front of the house. It was gone in record time and it was great to think of it going to new homes where it will be loved and appreciated. This computer is on its way to charity and we've bought a second-hand laptop for our new tiny living space.
An uplifting day though - going to vote this morning made me think of all those women who fought with everything they had that we might have the privilege of choosing who governs our country. How far we have come as women. It gives me pause for thought and it was with gratitude in my heart that I cast my vote today. And yes, I voted Green! I think they stand a very good chance of getting in down here.
I spent a wonderful weekend with family. My sister treated me to a beautiful drumming day with a wise woman I have loved and respected for a long time: http://www.seventhwavemusic.co.uk/ to hear her magical voice. A circle of women drummed and sang, chanted, crafted, cried and laughed together and I came away feeling peaceful and strong. Then my sister, brother and I drove to Wales to spend a few days walking, talking and enjoying each other's fine company. We've found a huge family house with lots of different apartments that we want to buy together so we stayed there and marvelled at the views and the fantasticly sweet energy it exuded. Somehow we've just got to come up with the crazy amount of cash required but I'm sure we'll manifest it somehow - it just feels right.
I came home to find that R had done a massive chunk of the packing so I've been really knuckling down these last few days, making sure that we're free of clutter and full of bright anticipation as we move onward into our future together.
An uplifting day though - going to vote this morning made me think of all those women who fought with everything they had that we might have the privilege of choosing who governs our country. How far we have come as women. It gives me pause for thought and it was with gratitude in my heart that I cast my vote today. And yes, I voted Green! I think they stand a very good chance of getting in down here.
I spent a wonderful weekend with family. My sister treated me to a beautiful drumming day with a wise woman I have loved and respected for a long time: http://www.seventhwavemusic.co.uk/ to hear her magical voice. A circle of women drummed and sang, chanted, crafted, cried and laughed together and I came away feeling peaceful and strong. Then my sister, brother and I drove to Wales to spend a few days walking, talking and enjoying each other's fine company. We've found a huge family house with lots of different apartments that we want to buy together so we stayed there and marvelled at the views and the fantasticly sweet energy it exuded. Somehow we've just got to come up with the crazy amount of cash required but I'm sure we'll manifest it somehow - it just feels right.
I came home to find that R had done a massive chunk of the packing so I've been really knuckling down these last few days, making sure that we're free of clutter and full of bright anticipation as we move onward into our future together.
Thursday, 29 April 2010
The adventure begins...
There's so many things I should be doing....but I hate the word 'should'. Sitting here surrounded by boxes on the precipice of our next big adventure. Everything has happened so fast but I am humbled by how committed R is to living his dreams, to following his heart and I am following with my mind wide open. Getting snagged on the emotional stuff though. R found a little houseboat on Gumtree and we have - recklessly and impetuously - bought it with all our savings. When the survey came back depressingly realistic (more problems than I care to mention) we faltered and wondered what in the hell it was we were doing. But somehow, the magic of the sunsets on the water, the dream of living more simply and the pure history of our little 1920s cruising yacht has soothed us, rocked us back into believing. And I do believe! I believe this will be the beginning of something magical. A change is what we need.
We are packing up our beloved cottage, allocating one tiny box of 'stuff' for our new home which is, after all, only 30ft long and incredibly compact. All the furniture and accumulated clutter of our married life must go so I am sorting through things, laughing at memories and lighting paper fires in our woodburner. So freeing to let go of the things we think define us...but terrifying too - who am I if I am not my possessions? My photos, my books, my letters? (Okay, I'll admit it, the aforementioned items are going into my mother-in-law's loft until I can make firm decisions.)
The craziest and most emotionally dangerous decision is re-homing 2 of our beloved cats. Other TTC pet-owners will understand that deep connection we have with our animals, how truly they support our soul and pick us up from our darkest places. When I took our dearest feline friend M to my brother's house to live, I cried as if my heart would break. In those tears was all the frustrations and sadnesses of the last 3 years. I felt wracked with guilt, consumed with grief. The bed felt empty without her purring presence. And finding a home for our littlest cat has proved a journey in itself, fraught with anxiety. Many's the time I've thought 'can I do this?' Am I really the person I thought I was if I can re-home soul individuals who have loved me unconditionally through the turmoil of the last 3 years? M is happy, revelling in the attention of a full house at my brother's. Of course she is happy. This is my shit.
In the midst of the upheaval, we went to India and were seduced by the epic magic of the place; the sacred rituals, the beautiful people, the complete and utter culture shock that left us reeling for days on end. On a dusty 8-hour bus ride I conceived the idea that we might adopt from India, so saddened were we by the abject poverty some children live in. As breath-takingly beautiful children with kohl-painted eyes peeped surreptitiously at us over bus seats, we fantasised about bringing our child back to their homeland, immersing ourselves in the religious culture, taking her to bathe in the great Mother Ganges, learning Hindi....
On return to England, we were overwhelmed with the bureaucracy such an adoption would entail and the cost was far more than we could afford. So, we decided to adopt from home, from here so that our child might be able to have a relationship with their birth family if they chose to. We had always promised ourselves we'd give it 3 years and, like that, 3 years is up. It's not long by many's standards but we knew we couldn't take the uncertainty for much longer and it feels like we will finally get to live our dream of being parents. On Sunday, I suddenly realised my period was 3 days late (after deciding on adoption I gratefully put away the thermometer and the charts....freedom from their depressing tyranny) and urged R to buy a pregnancy test just so we could put that thought quickly from our minds. As he was in the shop and I was waiting in the car, I felt the low dull ache that signifies the beginning of my period, so as I saw him rushing back to the car I knew that dream was over as soon as it had begun (so funny how it happened just then). But it afforded us both brief, private moments of pure, delicious fantasy, imagining the little stick saying 'yes, against all odds and in the 11th hour, you are, indeed, going to grow a baby of your own!' Dreams....
Finally having something to tell all my postnatal and pregnant clients has been an enormous relief and wards off the endless questions of when we are going to start a family (people often erroneously believe that the reason we've delayed it is because I have witnessed what they perceive as the difficulties and struggles of early parenthood - the number of times I have had to feign laughter and change the subject are too numerous to count). I found myself blushing the first time I told a client as I saw her face registering the years I have supported her through both her pregnancies, but it was okay. For me, at least, but I hope it doesn't make people feel too awkward. Still, if people are going to ask blunt questions, finally I can give them blunt answers!
Down on the beach last night, with the glorious white moon's reflection dancing on the waves, I was filled with a sense of awe and wonderment. I had met up with some friends and told them of our plans but I found myself saying 'we've decided to adopt because we can't have children' and those words jarred like jagged glass. My friend T took me gently aside and reminded me that what I affirm becomes my reality. Of course, I know this. I've always tried to avoid saying 'we can't have kids' etc. because I know I'm putting down layers deep in my psyche but there it is, my deep belief, rearing its ugly head. The way T speaks is so wise and slow and gentle - she looked into my eyes and said 'I am going to be stern with you now, listen to what you are affirming,' and she told me again about friends of hers who have miraculously become pregnant from nowhere.... And in my heart I want to believe her, but then again I want to be a mother with my whole being and if adoption is a route to that reality, I wholeheartedly take it.
We are waiting for a call from our social worker. What he/she will make of our new living arrangements is anyone's guess but I'll keep you posted. When the process begins, I want to commit to it and not secretly be trying to conceive in a kind of back-handed manner. So, deep in my heart, I know that a chapter is coming to an end. In every sense as I sit here surrounded by boxes in our marital home. Things are ending, skins are being shed to make way for the new and I feel like an observer, watching it all. The calm abiding witness. Everything seems very dream-like as I pack up our things to go to charity and Freecycle. When I touch down into the real, the rawness of the rollercoaster ride overwhelms me and I can't stop crying. But not bad crying, just releasing, releasing, releasing crying. Letting go....
The adventure begins.....
We are packing up our beloved cottage, allocating one tiny box of 'stuff' for our new home which is, after all, only 30ft long and incredibly compact. All the furniture and accumulated clutter of our married life must go so I am sorting through things, laughing at memories and lighting paper fires in our woodburner. So freeing to let go of the things we think define us...but terrifying too - who am I if I am not my possessions? My photos, my books, my letters? (Okay, I'll admit it, the aforementioned items are going into my mother-in-law's loft until I can make firm decisions.)
The craziest and most emotionally dangerous decision is re-homing 2 of our beloved cats. Other TTC pet-owners will understand that deep connection we have with our animals, how truly they support our soul and pick us up from our darkest places. When I took our dearest feline friend M to my brother's house to live, I cried as if my heart would break. In those tears was all the frustrations and sadnesses of the last 3 years. I felt wracked with guilt, consumed with grief. The bed felt empty without her purring presence. And finding a home for our littlest cat has proved a journey in itself, fraught with anxiety. Many's the time I've thought 'can I do this?' Am I really the person I thought I was if I can re-home soul individuals who have loved me unconditionally through the turmoil of the last 3 years? M is happy, revelling in the attention of a full house at my brother's. Of course she is happy. This is my shit.
In the midst of the upheaval, we went to India and were seduced by the epic magic of the place; the sacred rituals, the beautiful people, the complete and utter culture shock that left us reeling for days on end. On a dusty 8-hour bus ride I conceived the idea that we might adopt from India, so saddened were we by the abject poverty some children live in. As breath-takingly beautiful children with kohl-painted eyes peeped surreptitiously at us over bus seats, we fantasised about bringing our child back to their homeland, immersing ourselves in the religious culture, taking her to bathe in the great Mother Ganges, learning Hindi....
On return to England, we were overwhelmed with the bureaucracy such an adoption would entail and the cost was far more than we could afford. So, we decided to adopt from home, from here so that our child might be able to have a relationship with their birth family if they chose to. We had always promised ourselves we'd give it 3 years and, like that, 3 years is up. It's not long by many's standards but we knew we couldn't take the uncertainty for much longer and it feels like we will finally get to live our dream of being parents. On Sunday, I suddenly realised my period was 3 days late (after deciding on adoption I gratefully put away the thermometer and the charts....freedom from their depressing tyranny) and urged R to buy a pregnancy test just so we could put that thought quickly from our minds. As he was in the shop and I was waiting in the car, I felt the low dull ache that signifies the beginning of my period, so as I saw him rushing back to the car I knew that dream was over as soon as it had begun (so funny how it happened just then). But it afforded us both brief, private moments of pure, delicious fantasy, imagining the little stick saying 'yes, against all odds and in the 11th hour, you are, indeed, going to grow a baby of your own!' Dreams....
Finally having something to tell all my postnatal and pregnant clients has been an enormous relief and wards off the endless questions of when we are going to start a family (people often erroneously believe that the reason we've delayed it is because I have witnessed what they perceive as the difficulties and struggles of early parenthood - the number of times I have had to feign laughter and change the subject are too numerous to count). I found myself blushing the first time I told a client as I saw her face registering the years I have supported her through both her pregnancies, but it was okay. For me, at least, but I hope it doesn't make people feel too awkward. Still, if people are going to ask blunt questions, finally I can give them blunt answers!
Down on the beach last night, with the glorious white moon's reflection dancing on the waves, I was filled with a sense of awe and wonderment. I had met up with some friends and told them of our plans but I found myself saying 'we've decided to adopt because we can't have children' and those words jarred like jagged glass. My friend T took me gently aside and reminded me that what I affirm becomes my reality. Of course, I know this. I've always tried to avoid saying 'we can't have kids' etc. because I know I'm putting down layers deep in my psyche but there it is, my deep belief, rearing its ugly head. The way T speaks is so wise and slow and gentle - she looked into my eyes and said 'I am going to be stern with you now, listen to what you are affirming,' and she told me again about friends of hers who have miraculously become pregnant from nowhere.... And in my heart I want to believe her, but then again I want to be a mother with my whole being and if adoption is a route to that reality, I wholeheartedly take it.
We are waiting for a call from our social worker. What he/she will make of our new living arrangements is anyone's guess but I'll keep you posted. When the process begins, I want to commit to it and not secretly be trying to conceive in a kind of back-handed manner. So, deep in my heart, I know that a chapter is coming to an end. In every sense as I sit here surrounded by boxes in our marital home. Things are ending, skins are being shed to make way for the new and I feel like an observer, watching it all. The calm abiding witness. Everything seems very dream-like as I pack up our things to go to charity and Freecycle. When I touch down into the real, the rawness of the rollercoaster ride overwhelms me and I can't stop crying. But not bad crying, just releasing, releasing, releasing crying. Letting go....
The adventure begins.....
Thursday, 7 January 2010
pseudonym jitters
And by the way...I decided to change my blogging name from Future Mum to Dream Seeker - I don't want to be a mum at some indeterminate time in the future...I want to affirm it as my reality NOW!! And I am a seeker of dreams in that I spend far FAR too much time lying in.
A spiritual adventure - I can't wait!
R is taking me to India for my (big) birthday in April - yay, yay and more hoorays than it is possible to fit on a page! I have always always wanted to go (I'm sure I was even thinking about it in the womb)! And he tucked the tickets inside a book on India and it said 'Let's go on a spiritual adventure to the birthplace of tantra. I love you.' Could I love him any more than I do or would I spontaneously combust?! HOOOOOORAY!!!! And it's still snowing!!!! AND he's not going to work tomorrow! And he'll be home very soon!
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
an ode to cats and dogs...and snow
It's snowing!! What could be more delicious than our chocolate-box village covered in virgin snow! My clients all cancelled so I went back to bed with a hot water bottle (period pains) and read a book then, ahem, drifted back asleep...oops. I love it when the world grinds to a halt like this; the park is suddenly full of families, mums and dads sledging with their kids, shrieks of delight because everyone has 'permission' to spend a day together. Noone can get anywhere here and there's a real comradeship and evident thrill in it.A kind of freedom in calling up your boss and saying 'I can't come in today...' Yes, yes, yes!! No need to fake a dodgy throat before dashing out to gambol about in the snow and make snow angels. R and I had a ridiculous amount of fun burying ourselves in snow and videoing our sausage dog leaping about in it when it snowed before Christmas. Unfortunately the party-poopers have been moaning about the poor service of commuter trains when it snows so today they're running them. Altogether now...booooooooo. So R made it into work, although it took him 3.5 hours. Totally utterly pointless when he could be larking about in the snow with ME!! So, judging by news reports etc., snow is officially NO LONGER FUN (as in all the pics in the paper when it first snowed of aforementioned families etc.) but SERIOUSLY INCONVENIENT AND DANGEROUS (see scaremongering Tories trying to tell us we'll all be dead in our beds by the end of the week/'I can't get to work for one day' protests).
Well, well, I'm here to soak up the beautiful perfect silence that descends with a blanket of snow. Was dreaming again about Scotland (despite our deciding we're definitely not moving there now) and being holed-up in some remote house with a roaring fire - I love the wilderness of the Highlands. The utter escapism, the peace and solitude. The magic of hiking in silence for several hours and then coming face to face with a stag. It seems like another reality, transcending realms-especially when the stag meets your gaze for what seems like minutes on end before darting off. I like that a lot about Scotland.
R and I have had a funny week of people being surprised we don't have a TV. 'What do you do in the evenings?' is their plaintive cry...it really freaks people out. Some are anxious that we're missing such cultural milestones as 'The X Factor' and 'Strictly Come Dancing'. This worries them deeply. We usually say that we try and work our way through the book mountains that threaten to swallow up our teeny living space, book mountains which have only increased since Christmas with a vague promise from R that he's going to put up 'another shelf' -where I ask you?! We cook together, eat together, do puzzles together, sometimes play Scrabble together (but he always wins, grrrrr), sometimes watch a film together on the computer (yes, we are in the technological age!) but mostly we sit in front of the fire with our animals.
Which leads me to the point of this rambling post (you can tell it's a day off for me!) which is how great it is to have a menagerie of pets to welcome you home. Each of our three cats is uniquely different with their own quirky mannerisms, things that make us laugh until our sides ache. And as for the sausage dog, well, you can imagine how amusing and lovely she is. Our pets have brought an incredible amount of
love into our lives. I simply cannot imagine life without their furry comfort, their beautiful wise feline/canine eyes, their ability to be completely in the moment, to take immense pleasure in just being near me and R. They all bundle into a pile by the fire and sleep with their arms and paws entwined (99% of the photos we take are of these moments!). They have, throughout the years, been an immense source of comfort and kindness. They seek us out when we are sad, our dog in particular comes rushing out if she hears crying and has been known to lick tears away. To R and I, they are our family and we are so blessed that these 4 little souls share our home. As I write, they're all curled up snoozing, blissfully aware that they're the most loved animal companions in the world.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
A very blissful new year celebration this year...
I enjoyed a deeply transformative, beautiful tantric ritual with my R - my god, my Shiva - in which we created a lovely temple in our bedroom with candles and music....
we lazed about then made a delicious (and crazily cheesy) 4 course meal. Which consisted of, um, crudites with home-made dips (one of them cream cheese and roasted red pepper), then a pasta dish with a rich creamy, er, cheesy, sauce and then a cheese course with lovely homemade bread (which had a dusting of, er, cheese on top) followed by - you guessed it - cheesecake! I turned into a total cheesemonster in the kitchen trying to use up all the leftover cheese from Christmas!
Then we lit a fire, did a meditation and wrote our wishes and intentions for the coming year. We read out what we intended to let go of in 2010 and burnt the pieces of paper afterwards. It felt very cleansing and we were totally buzzy and invigorated...
It was a truly magical evening together and we woke on New Year's Day with bright light hearts...
We wish,
We wish,
We wish....
And in the beautiful flow of things, everything is happening perfectly.
Happy 2010 x
I enjoyed a deeply transformative, beautiful tantric ritual with my R - my god, my Shiva - in which we created a lovely temple in our bedroom with candles and music....
we lazed about then made a delicious (and crazily cheesy) 4 course meal. Which consisted of, um, crudites with home-made dips (one of them cream cheese and roasted red pepper), then a pasta dish with a rich creamy, er, cheesy, sauce and then a cheese course with lovely homemade bread (which had a dusting of, er, cheese on top) followed by - you guessed it - cheesecake! I turned into a total cheesemonster in the kitchen trying to use up all the leftover cheese from Christmas!
Then we lit a fire, did a meditation and wrote our wishes and intentions for the coming year. We read out what we intended to let go of in 2010 and burnt the pieces of paper afterwards. It felt very cleansing and we were totally buzzy and invigorated...
It was a truly magical evening together and we woke on New Year's Day with bright light hearts...
We wish,
We wish,
We wish....
And in the beautiful flow of things, everything is happening perfectly.
Happy 2010 x
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