The beauty and intricacies of language

     Yes, as you may know,  I'm in Brasil. Therefore it follows that I am learning the language, Portuguese. Well, not quite right, I am learning more and trying to re awaken the words I learnt on my previous visits to this wonderful country. I say wonderful, because despite some initial dislike of third world conditions in the basic infrastructure, overall, it  is a wonderful place. This must be about my sixth visit over perhaps twenty years. With long gaps in between, I have no reason to retain what I learn in between. Never, have I learnt to hold an intelligent conversation though, which is not good. My ability to 'falla' to speak was not sufficiently proficient. This time I should like to be able to do just that. To be able to join in an intelligent discussion....on any subject really.

        Previously I picked up odd words, the kind you use all the time. You know, talk, eat, hello, good day, good night, how much, pay, thank you, those kind of words. Then, living amongst a foreign language speaking community, your ear gradually becomes attuned, or at least, mine does. In a strange way, it almost makes sense. Then, after another few weeks, you begin to understand great tracks of overheard conversation. Even if it's said very fast, which it often is, you can understand a few words, which in turn explains the conversation to you. Of course you often miss some of the nuances. The finer points, but it is still better than understanding nothing at all. There are times when I think I am bloody brilliant, then others when it's like....well, a foreign language. I understand nothing! It's brilliant to be able to nod, or reply something in the right places, instead of just looking vacant. As far a speaking it goes, it is more intimidating, but I shall get there.

                              New friends in brasil......me in the middle. Communication.

        When abroad, I often think of my Father. He loved to travel, he went all over Europe. From the time he took a History of Art course in Italy at the end of the war, offered free by the army. To the times he and my Mother and my small brother, began going on the package tours in the sixties and seventies. He was cultured for a real, ordinary, London boy. He liked Art and he liked Opera. However he was a strange mix, believing it wasn't the done thing to move out of his class. He would therefore never dream of playing Opera at home, or introduce we children to it. He thought it had to be enjoyed when actually in Italy, then locked away and guarded as a precious memory. In the same way, when he went abroad, he made no attempt at learning the language. Only spoke much louder, or slower as if he were speaking to people not quite the full ticket. As for the food...where could he get fish and chips, or bacon and eggs? Proper English food, he wanted 'none of that foreign muck'! Once my Mother and I walked all over an Italian town looking for chips for him. Eventually we found a place, a real Italian trattoria who would listen to us. Of course we went about it in the wrong way, I know that now, but it was along time ago. However, he was disgusted with what we bought back for him. The potatoes were cut in chunky pieces with the skin left on, fried and served with whole cloves of garlic... I have never forgotten the look on his face. A 'What is the matter with these people? ' look. ha ha.

         But, that was then, now, I think times have changed, at least I like to think they have. I want to be able to communicate. Perhaps it's the Gemini side of me, I like to communicate...I need to communicate. I don't want to miss everything that goes on.  I find for many things you want to say, if you try a variety of English words you can use in the same situation, 'one' at least will be recognised as being close to a Portugese word. That's my theory anyway, I must say, there are times when it works through quite complicated conversations. Of course it's slow, and you need lots of patience, but you can get there in the end. You need perseverance, patience and  to push it I reckon. There you go the three p's. There, in a nutshell, is my theory on learning a foreign language.

        I find I inject bits of Spanish and Italan into the gaps too. Both languages I know to about to the same degree as Brasilian Portugese. It's as if hearing the different language, is stirring up all the foreign words I know. A kind of foreign word 'soup' which enables me to reply something, although not the correct something! The reason  I began writing about this process was because I fall in love with words. It is raining a lot right now, storms even. I just love the word for rain here...Chuva. Pronounced shuva...like Shiva I think. To me it sounds like a word that should be used to speak of rain. It sounds soft and persistent. Ahh I love nice words...I am finding many similar, descriptive words, so you may hear more of these later on my journey into the language.

        In the meantime, happy learning to you all. You can never learn too much.

Hiatus.......

         What to call this blog? I had few ideas, eventually hiatus seemed the obvious choice. As this is what I feel I am in at the moment. After thinking for most of last year that it was the year for major changes, now I find myself in this year still, to some extent, in limbo. Indeed, well into this year with too many questions still unanswered. Is that a bad thing, no not necessarily. Only me, as usual, being impatient, wanting everything yesterday. Nothing wrong with that I say.

           Those who read me, who read these bogs or who read my 'where in the world' blogs will know that major changes have taken place as far as location is concerned. Obviously, within me, in my soul if you like, I still feel the kind of changes I expected are yet to reveal themselves. It's strange because so many people I meet feel exactly the same way. As if they are waiting for something. That building feeling of expectation....then of impatience and curioriosity, waiting for the wave to hit. As it must, as it will!

                           Touching something special 

             Of course I have met some people who are content, or who say they are. Perhaps that is not quite the right word, content. I did not feel they were content, but their life is not mine. I can only change me. They say they are settled, they are not actively looking for change. Without denigrating them in any way, I feel they are not as satisfied with their life as they mainain. Perhaps from my lofty heights as a writer, perhaps I am being judgemental.  Hope not, but to me they appeared to be resigned. Settled into a routine which is one they believe is the best they can hope for. "It's a good life" one of them said to me, I'm not unhappy....no, not unhappy. Me, well.....I'm like the duck, tranquil to look at, but under the surface my legs are kicking frantically to keep afloat. I intend to have more than that. To have a situation where I don't have to keep kicking to merely survive.

          Ah yes, I hear you say, or some of you say, you are dissatisfied with everything, you want too much. Well, perhaps I do, but if you never want more, what are the chances of getting it? Not very high I would think. I also read today that all you have is 'today'. That if you spent all your time looking forward, or backwards come to that matter, then you are missing the now. Of course no one intends to do that. I certainly don't. Although I can quite see how that might happen, it's not what I'm talking about. I am saying I am not satisfied with the status quo. That I have unfulfilled ambition. I want more than saying I am ok, I'm not unhappy.

           So folks, however you do it, gird your loins and build the picture of your life. Just the one you want, with every tee crossed and every nuance spelled out. There is no reason why you should not acheive it, and every reason that you will! For me, I have my visualisation, that's the way I work. I build a folio of perfect scenarios, then I put energy into them. I look at them, I visualise them when I don't actually see them. I re- look at them when they picture dulls,  I know, they are mine. Let no doubt in, have absolute faith that everything you desire is yours. If you investigate this method, you will find many famous people who have achieved the lifestyle and the inner harmony they want like this. Many, many more lesser known people too of course.

            I know it works, already in the space of a Year I have changed so much in my life....now for the rest. Your life really can go from being difficult to being fantastic in the course of a split second. I am in hiatus, I am not sure exactly how or when, I just have to keep reiterating that I AM.

             I am everything I want to be..on every level.

             Power to you all my friends.......

              May the light shine on your every step.......

Fate...do you believe in fate?

      Sometimes I do, particularly when I put myself out to write something meaningful and for various electronic reasons....it disappears. It's never a few words, or even lines that go missing, it's always a full page of thought that I am pleased with. If I believed fully in fate, I would believe it was because I should not have written about that topic. Or because I was saying something that would do more harm than good. But, that again, is giving myself credit of being something special...and isn't that what fate would have to be saying to stop me like that? Yes, it's a dichotomy, a cleft stick of is it right or wrong to think that way.

       Yes, I have lost another piece of work...about religion this time. You know, when the rationale of a theosophical problem, or even a sociological one, is flowing well and making sense why do I keep losing them? Am I just a clutz? Perhaps in too much of a hurry, or merely as I half supposed, fate slapping me down. Especially in this last instance when I was trying to make sense of beliefs, religious practices and how it effects family...this time in the case of the death of my Mother. Perhaps I should not be touching on what made her tick, perhaps it should be slanted more towards what my problems are. Why I feel the need to explain what happened with her. Mmmmm , could be that, perhaps it's not mine to write about.

        I do know how to use a laptop, or in this case an iPad. I do know how to save my work and do it by rote to avoid just this sort of problem. Yet again, it's what I considered a good piece of work building...going up the Swanny. Or, if you prefer...floating down the river, as in 'The Swanny River.' Each time it happens, it's as if someone has snatched a precious jewel away from me. How precious is that behaviour is that. Perhaps all writers are the same. A piece of work is your baby, to be protected and toiled over until it's safe to be allowed to go free. Or, perhaps I have the wrong idea about children too. See, once you begin to think in terms of fate, ideas can become very sticky. 

        How else do you know that you are on the right track? Unless the concept you began with, starts to flow, to gell, to come together and make sense to you. You think you are making practical sense out of esoteric, or emotional concepts. You are working through ideas, seeing how they fit together with ideas or concepts held by society in general. With the people you know, or are talking about in particular. You take a topic, examine the ideas, the rules around it. You turn it inside out, back to front, then put it back together in a way you think makes sense to you, and perhaps your readers. Your aim, is to explain the inexplicable.

        Well, my work was flowing, it was coming together simply and cleverly.... I went off to see about more information....came back...and there it was gone. Missing in action. As if it never was!

         How annoying and frustrating is that....

         Well, I'm not allowing fate to rule me, I am not sinking out of sight because of possible censure, I am fighting back, writing anew. Beginning again. Perhaps it will go as well again. Perhaps I will do better.

          Here's hoping my friends and readers.

          In the meantime, please accept this small missive of frustration.

       

       

Religion..... Yeah or nea

        Because of the recent death of my Mother, beliefs, religions and all such practices are uppermost in my mind. I know my Mother had the normal accepted beliefs of many people, those who have grown up with prayer and the bible. No matter what bible, what Holy Book you know, there are many stories in the various religions overlapping in some way. For every one, every religion, you need to accept what you are told with little physical proof. Or, 'hard evidence' as others might say. Otherwise, it would not be called a 'belief' would it.

           Once an adult, my Mother did the normal things, married before a priest in her church, churched herself and her new born babies. She believed there is a God, or maybe accepted without really questioning religious concepts she was told during her childhood years. Without her being a regular churchgoer, or it ruling her life in any way, it ran along comfortably in the background of her life. Little bits, or quotes would often come out. Many people would say that is the behaviour of a lapsed believer, but she followed the general teaching as far as she could without religion being central to her life. She sent us, her children, to Sunday school, we took part in the religious festivals and so on. Until, just over twenty years ago, when she was coming up to seventy years of age, my brother died un-expectantly. He was only forty seven, it was a great shock to us all, a sudden heart attack, with no previous history. In fact he had a medical examination the week before, where they found him in A1 health.

         He was her first son, but second child of her three children, I being the eldest. He lived with his second wife, an American, in Darwin, Australia. He died of natural causes they say, although his widow, with a mysterious past and no family of her own admitted to, or in her life, had him cremated with suspicious speed. She let no one know of the tragedy as it happened early that morning, my Father phoning him that night, exposing the dreadful news. So instead of a Happy Mothers Day message, there was the shock of a belated death announcement. The funeral went much the same way. As my Father made travel plans, only three hours away in New Zealand, the widow merely said, "you were all mentioned at the ceremony". He died on Mother's Day the 10th May, I believe, cremated the next day. A double blow for my Mother I think, the fact he died so young and, on Mothers Day. As well as no one had the chance to say goodby, or have questions answered about his health, or rapid cremation. To this day there are too many unusual and unexplained questions unanswered. Answers we can never find, as the wife disappeared immediately after, taking not only the proceeds of their house and land, but of my parents house and furniture too, unwisely built on my brothers' land.

            After that, unable to make sense of his death, or the circumstances surrounding it, my Mother lost her faith. As I'm sure many before her have done, she said "there can be no God, to let that happen". Ever after, she would not hear of how there could possibly be a God, not without a plan, or without some guide in operation. Not without judgement between good people and bad. Because he certainly was a good man. Reliable, loyal, easy going and hard working. Many might say her faith was not strong enough, which I suppose it wasn't. Gradually over the next twenty odd years, she compounded her lack of faith by asserting we were the same as any other living thing. We died, we decayed and that was the end of it. There was no heaven, no hell, no God. My Fathers' cancer and death less than two years later did nothing to change her views. Looking back Terry's death broke my Mothers faith, but my Fathers health as he was never the same after my brothers death. If we had allowed it, my Mother would have had him just had my Father taken away by the undertaker, with no ceremony whatsoever. Such was her lack of faith, her lack of any belief. What does it matter she said. Perhaps I was selfish, but I and my much younger brother needed a proper goodby this time. We needed to honour him and his life.

           There comes a time when any of us might question what we are, how came we here. Certainly, I did. I found my own spiritual faith after a time lost. I suppose I am a spiritualist, if you must give it a title. I am a mixture of Spirituality/positive thought and Eastern religions as in Budismn. I believe, as it says in the bible, that there are many paths to God. Whatever God you think exists, whatever energy in which you believe. I believe that people should be allowed to worship as they see fit. As long as they are good people, kind to others, doing no harm, I believe in freedom of worship. Who is to decide who is right, or wrong. Or indeed, if there is any right or wrong.

           I have no fear of death, I know we go on, that there is a higher power we can tap into, an energy around us to help us survive this life. I believe absolutely that I will meet all of my loved ones again. I wanted some of that for my Mother, especially as she approached her own death. I could think of nothing worse than to believe all that was ahead, was a void of darkness leading to decay. That would be a frightening thought. Just about terrifying I thought. Yet I'm not sure I succeeded in giving her anything to hold onto. I could feel her fear at facing....nothing......

        I opened the conversation with her many times in the last year of her life. Explaining what I had seen, or experienced, but it was just so many words to her. At the end, she said she would like to believe that something so nice was possible. That to be met by your loved ones, who take you on, might actually happen...but she didn't see how it was possible. Despite me assuring her that Terry, her son would meet her. Something I felt with great conviction. During the last few days, when she was almost past recognising any of the family, she began speaking to someone no one around her could see. She said several times 'what is that light?', those from the other side often come surrounded by light, as it's the light we head into on passing. So, that gave me some hope for her peace. Another time, I believe she saw two men, probably....I like to think, my Father and my brother. "Are they my boys?" she said. As those who have passed, are often seen as young again. Then, she said " is that my little dog? So, something was happening for her, or at least, so I like to believe. I hope with all my heart it is true, that she experienced comfort at the end, and lost the fear of the void. Her fear of darkness and decay. Of course, decay we must, but that is only the shell of us. We, our soul, our spirit goes on.

         May we all find the peace and support we need. As I hope and believe my Mother has done.

          

             

            

Euthanasia....I've had a change of heart!

        My ninety year old Mother is in hospital, with amongst others, kidney failure. For the past few weeks she has lurched between semi managed/indignity, to dire straits / impossible to manage......for all of us. Her gradual demise has taken several years, from prognosis to end result this week. Although this final stage was relatively rapid. Previously throughout her life she has had amazing health. Her childhood background was on the farm her Father owned. Therefore, even throughout the war with their own cow, pigs, chickens and ducks, they lived better than most. She was the original country girl. Strong, tall for the era, suffered hardly any illness throughout her life.

        Only at sixty, when she and my father emigrated from England to Australia to live with their eldest son, did she have a spell in hospital. Bought on, I think, by not acclimatising to either the heat, or the remote lifestyle. I am a great believer that unhappy people very often succumb to illness. If the spirit is sick, so follows the body.  Whether it be coughs and colds, or something more severe. In Darwin, Australia, she had some small illness requiring an operation during which they perforated her bowel. With the nasty results you may imagine. Instead of being in and out of hospital within a few days, it stretched to weeks, then months. I remember getting an impassioned telephone call in England, saying " if you want to see me alive, you better hurry up and come", which we did, my daughter and I. Arriving whilst she was still in hospital. In those days, Darwin had a few such mistakes, today, the compensation would have kept her comfortably for the rest of her life. In the eighties, there was no such recourse for bad medical practice. The surgeons never admitted they were wrong.

         The whole hospital fiasco was just the tip of the iceberg, she hated the tropical North, where everything was so different to what she was used to. She was never able to settle in Northern Territory, Australia. Her husband, my father, was happy to go around with his son, blokes together. Catching the auctions, mending motorbikes, taking the truck into the bush to check on the pearl farms my brother managed. Whilst  mother, suddenly retired, had only the house where it was too hot to do anything all day, surrounded only by bush and strange creature, with no near neighbours, or shops. After I was there caring for her for few months, my parents went on to New Zealand to visit. With my mother not much better, no energy, no appetite, unable to swallow. Indeed, she hardly lifted her eyes to communicate at all. The visit was an attempt to stimulate some interest, a holiday which soon became permanent. Moving to be near their second son, where the heat was not so extreme, was what ultimately saved her. Within the family, we tell the story often, of how, her health not improving, she got on the plane to New Zealand in a wheelchair, unable to eat anything but food the consistency of baby food. To emerge to a tradition high tea of England, with baked ham, meats, vegetables, salads and cakes. Once seated, she cleared the table whilst we all sat spellbound at her recovery. Her specially prepared food 'mush' untouched  beside her.        

         I'm sure my youngest brother though my story of what she required to eat in Australia, a complete fantasy. Her soft diet became a thing of the past, as was her inability to stand, or walk. Within weeks they had bought a house, settling down the hill from my younger brother, my Mother expressing her approval of the climate, and less creepy crawlies. Much to the dismay of both my Father, and my eldest brother I think, who had loved their time together in Australia. What else could they do if they wanted her to thrive.

        This time, her illness at ninety, with both my eldest brother and my Father gone for over twenty years, the bare facts were that her organs were plainly wearing out. Worsened by the fact that as she aged beyond eighty, she decided to stop making any effort to get about, or take any excercise at all. Nothing would persuade her to walk as far as the post box at the end of her very short drive. Within a few years she was having difficulty walking, or balancing at all. The old adage of use it, or lose it is so true. I am convinced that if she had kept active, she would have lasted perhaps another ten years, well and active. Of course you need quality of life, to, so she lived as she choose to live. You must at least, enjoy the lifestyle you have. Perhaps she did, she had her reading, her knitting and her sport and soaps on TV. Naturually, as her muscle tone worsened, she was able to do less and less, but above all she was stubborn. A pity that the very end of your life cannot be so decided to suit yourself. Hers certainly was not, all choice withheld.

        Now during this final period of her life, where we, as a family have tried to do the best we can for her. We knew her wishes, understood the illness was was now entering it's final phase. After so many years of no discernible decline, suddenly she was falling a lot, with digestion problems, as well as bowel and bladder complications. She went into hospital after a couple of such falls, which she hated. No matter how good the nurses there is no worse place to be for becoming isolated, with  rest being the last thing offered. Once home again, we knew she wanted to finish her life in her own clean, bright home, surrounded by her families things. Despite worsening daily, through this last period as she was. Despite me being back in England again, after an emergency visit six months previously when we thought she was at the last. My brother and I tried to organise to keep her at home, which is what she wanted. By then, she was suffering from a whole raft of problems, the worst being her kidney deterioration, which, causes so many associated problems, she found it very difficult. I know she hoped to improve, hoped to get back to having some quality of life. Of course, that could never be, but I know she hoped for it. It's been demoralising and hard going for her and all of those who have had to cope with the day to day problems. Whether that were near, or far. For me, as for everyone else in the family, it's been a building strain and frustration. For her, the indignity of incontinance and pain began and went on and on.

        Me, well, being several thousand miles away merely means you are just as involved on an emotional level and with practical decisions between my brother and I. Although being on the other side of the world in England, whilst she is in New Zealand, means broken nights have become the norm lately. There is little enough I could do, except for daily decisions, and progress to be discussed. As I struggle to deal with the fact I'm not there this time, although still determined to ensure things are as she wants them to be, as she reaches the end of this struggle, and of her life. We were able to get her extra help, three daily health visitors, with family filling the gaps at night and in between. The professional opinion was that she would fail quickly, and peacefully, her many conditions eventually causing a heart attack. No one took into account her amazing constitution, or her strong heart. Just like six months ago, she kept bouncing back, although each time with more residual problems.

        Of course, my brother and I are in perfect agreement on all decisions regarding her welfare. Something I am sure we are both grateful for, I know I am. But having to keep the lines of communication open are only possible to such a degree because of modern communications. Emails, texts, phone calls and all the rest...even Facebook has it's part, although not my favourite medium. It's too 'in your face' for me, I'm too old perhaps to deal with the floods of personal things the young post. Let's  be honest, much of it appals me. Different attitudes to privacy and respect I guess.

         As she gradually sank, she ate less, she lost all interest in everything and coped less well. Her kidneys were soon down to 10% working ability. Everything began to fail but her heart kept going. Her strong, farmers heart just would not give up. God bless the woman, she had a hard end, with both building pain and all the indignities that double incontinence brings. I prayed for a swift end, I think we all prayed for someone to overdose her, to send her on......to help her.....for it to end. Her pain and her moans were almost non stop. Honestly, you wouldn't let a dog suffer so long, or so hard, why must she. No one deserves that hard end, not when there are the medicines to take away the pain. Murderers and rapists, those guilty of despicable war crimes are given more care and consideration than an ordinary, hard working wife and mother of Old England, or old colonial Motherland was. Even the final two weeks, back in hospital, they were unable to prescribe enough pain killers to keep her pain free more than a percentage of the time. I'm sure it must have been the same as that stage you get to when giving birth, when you become the pain. There is no you, no surroundings, only the pain. You are the pain, the pain is you. Except hers did not last for twelve hours, thirty six hours, there was no baby at the end of it. It went on, and on.....she had to suffer! Why must she suffer such torture?

         Needless to say, this missive has taken a lot out of me. A lot to write. I struggled to set it down, to explain how the healing profession have their hands tied when it comes to such circumstances. At no time must the patient be given enough Herion, or it's substitute to be a danger to her life...but for goodness sakes, what life? Had she been in Holland, they could have helped, as in some other countries. We read all the time in England about being put on 'the pathway' once hope is gone. Where was her pathway out of there. No one would listen to the family, could listen to the family. Before the end, she wanted to die too, but with no recourse for doing so. She had no choice, we had no choice, but to see her, and hear her suffer hour after hour was insurmountable. I can understand how loved ones put a pillow over a face, I might have done so if I were there in person. Or an overdose, except we had no access to her medication.

          My poor Mother......when I began writing this, she believed she had hopes of recovery, now she has been gone some weeks. In truth, it was only her last four/five days, when she was moved to a hospice that she was given enough drugs to keep her sedated, finally out of pain. That was hard to wait out, but at least peaceful for her.

        Previously, I believed that to choose to be euthanised was a cowards way out, that it might hurt the family. Family who might think their loved one choose to leave them, rather than stay longer with them. Except it's not like that is it. When hope has gone, when pain builds, when bodily indignities only worsen with no hope of improvement, it's time to go. Who in their right mind would want to stay, would want to keep her there...no one! She should have slipped away peacefully weeks ago, when her failing organs put added strain on her heart. Except she had the unlucky combination of a weak body and a strong heart.

           I for one, have made it clear that should I be in a similar situation to her at any time, then help me go. With, I hope the approval of the powers that be. I hope no one has to put their liberty on the line to help me, as I would have tried to help her. No one should be faced with that decision. Then..NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT TO SUFFER.....as my Mother was, for hour after hour, after hour.

           The government should have compassion, not to take the decision out of our hands, not to be scary big brother, but to give us, the family, and the pateint, the choice. Not to let the suffering go on......and on.......and on........

           Therefore, as I said, after that harrowing experience I now say bring in EUTHENASIA. it was hard for me at a distance, what must it have been Iike for my brother in the same room....and so helpless to do anything.

            Don't put more patients and their families through that! Give us all the freedom of choice!

          

House guest

    With my life 'on hold', or is it 'in flux', I am having to be the perfect house guest for a while. Yes, ok, it's with family...but not sure that makes it easier. Yes, I could have gone off on my own, rented something very small, lived in a shoebox even smaller than the last year, but what an opportunity to visit properly (they told me) so...how could I not. Hence, here I am, at my daughters flat, in the midst of her family. Here for three weeks, then on to the home of my eldest son, even further away and for an indeterminate time.

      Fitting in, isn't that what you do? Try to fit in as seamlessly as possible, make no waves, not be demanding, or interfering. Well, I had great hopes, but actually it's a lot harder ball game than you think. Firstly, life is busy, in her case it seems to be more 'manic' than any other adjective. Or perhaps from the inside, you begin to remember what bringing up children, running that kind of household, is all about. Of course the biggest aspect of it is, it's not how you did it, or would do it in her shoes. Except you're not in her shoes, she is. You must remember that, if you are to survive. or should that be, if your closeness is to survive happily. You must not intrude, but not be remote. After all, this is supposed to be a pleasure for you all....isn't it?

      It's such a fine line though isn't it. How much 'help' should I give? How much advice...if any? How much space should I give her? How much companionship? After all, they have their routine, or in this case, as I see it,  lack of it. No, no, that's not fair. Of course they have a routine, as I explained already, it's not my idea of routine. It's more like anarchy, when I always believed there can only be one commander. Times have changed they all tell me. Children aren't how they used to be. Well, I was a teacher for many years...can they have changed that much? Perhaps I'm old fashioned, just behind the times? Perhaps I was as much out of tune in my day too, to my own Mother. My mother, who looking back, I found quite difficult to share a house with. As she did with me, we were too different. Surely, we two, my daughter and I, have  a better relationship than that, don't we? Or, did my own Mother think the same back then, we both perhaps just overstepped the mark in a similar situation, or we were too different in our approach. See what I mean. It's a minefield. But perhaps I worry too much, it's a difficult time we are in.

       It's all the more poignant, as my own mother is coming to end of her life right now. Located on the other side of the world, all I can do this time, is keep in contact from a distance. I went over to be with her six months ago when we all thought it was the end. Now, it's impossible to go again, for a variety of reasons. One of which, is that my life is going through great changes of its own, (It sounds as if it has an energy of its own doesn't I, which is exactly how I often feel.) Her demise being a part of it all I suppose.....I have had her for such a long time. This means I am coping with both emotional and physical changes, many of them out of my control. Not knowing how, or where I will be at the end of it, seriously, I said I was 'in flux', as I surely am. In the meantime, my Mother goes through her own great changes surrounded by my brother and his family, but not me and mine.....which is hard.

       Modern technology keeps us all reasonably close, regularly in touch of the latest news by the flick of the airwaves. Which is both frustrating and comforting at the same time. Well, this is how it is, and I will have to cope with it. Stepping carefully through the minefield, which is life both home and away. My instinct is to get stuck in, organise everything. Something that I really can't do, either here, or there. Or maybe in only small ways, if requested. Of course, the distance stops me doing much of that for Mother. Although, as always I have plenty of suggestions, supporting those there at the coal face. Helping them a little, I hope. Whilst here at my daughters, I hope it's the right kind of consideration holding me back. The right kind of generosity I offer throughout this extended visit.

      Ah well dear friends, (see how I assume you like me,) time will tell what will be the end of this story. Yes indeed, time will tell. Wish me luck, indeed, wish us all luck, because we are all under pressure these next few weeks. After which time, I go on to my sons home with enough resilience intact to begin again tranquilly, I hope. Whether I still have a Mother at that point, is in the lap of the gods. Whether I still have a daughter close and loving, is rather more down to my own sensitivity and inner fortitude. Here's  hoping that LOVE will conquer all, because I certainly have plenty of that. May the passing of my mother be surrounded with love, as she is met by her loved ones on the other side.....

A little bit here, a little bit there

        Further to the delays and frustrations around me lately...I vowed to keep positive, to keep creating my own reality. I am doing that every chance I get. Of course you have to to invest some mental and physical energy into the mix too. After all, the more you stir up the energy around you, the more energy you create. Energy you can then direct, where you wish it to go. To that end, I keep aiming to do the little jobs, sort out cupboards, throw away stuff, we all have too much stuff anyway. Make phone calls, I hate to make, where did my hate of the phone come about? I must organise my dairy....most importantly have a bit of fun in the midst of all the mundane slog!

        Speaking of my dairy..... that's gone crazy too, I have such a busy week. A busy fortnight really, everything seems to be cramming together into my, already  'too short' days, it's easy to become muddled. Finances are tight, a euphemism for non existent. I don't have one credit, or debit card working at present, which, in today's world means you are out of the loop. All affected by the banks, deciding  to send me the latest smart card, ordering me one, cancelling the old one. All without telling me anything about it. I had a couple of highly embarrassing supermarket visits, where I stood with a cart of food, only to be refused. The cashier, shook her head at me sadly, 'it's usually overdrawings the problem' she said wisely.  Ignoring my protestations. Thank god for my habit of throwing change into my bag....it took some time to locate enough though, but I did it. These indispensable cards, we must all use now, all developed faults, out of my control, at the same time. What is the Universe trying to tell me? I know my poor car, running on empty is not a fan of whatever it is. What a bore, in a busy time, and unwell time, to keep running down to the bank, to get cash over the counter, or check if the new cards are there...I'm exhausted enough without all the stress of this.

         My energy levels are still likely to dip suddenly, my chest remains clogged, my sinuses blocked. On top of which, confusion reigns within me far too often. Of course, my Mother is still ill, up and down..mostly down, a world away, but always on my mind. While I spent most of the day rushing around trying to catch my tail, and make sense of what I was doing. Talk about senility, half the time I m sure I'm there! There is just too much in my head...I need a good defrag, like an old computer. 

         Of course, it's then I must rehash the picture, build the ideal scenario to bring me out of this. Out and smelling of roses, I hasten to add. Today it was copious phone calls, trying to track down the location for the change of storage unit, attempting to find the drop of point for unwanted furniture at the charity shop. Made difficult by a whole new crop of double lines up the pavement for as far as I could see. 'No stopping, No stopping' Meaning there was nowhere I was allowed to stop to unload. Oh joy! Perhaps once I have seen the fire alarm man in the morning, my landlord in the afternoon, had two doctors appointment, and a hospital visit in the following days I can slow down. Oh once I've checked my storage facilities ready for the move, and the removal transport arrangement, checked the bank again. Then finish the packing, keep the washing up to date and on, and on. As for cleaning the place once I can see the floor for boxes again, well,  I just can't imagine having the will or the energy for that, and I don't care.

        Still, one step at a time, keep on taking the pills, whatever helps. Above all keep positive and keep building utopia around me. Something's got to give soon.....after all, I'm putting in the energy!

        In the meantime, I'm climbing over and around all these boxes and piles of stuff, after bagging another couple of sacks for the charity store, gradually making my way into bed, to sleep. After I finish this of course., got to write a bit too.

         Ahhhhhh, always appreciate the blissful aspects of your life.

         Who remembers that old song?

         "You have to accentuate the positive, and eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative...don't mess with mr in between."

           A song for every occasision, that's me!