If it wasn't for the nights

Okay, while you read this, you've gotta do something for me. It might go against every grain of sensibility in you. But... will you make an exception? And play the following clip?

The short of it is, this is just about my most favourite ABBA song. It's one of their best. I could listen to it every day and not get sick of it. But then... I was a MASSIVE fan back in the day!

Go on... hit play... if you're not tapping some part of your body or trying to sing the chorus by the end, well.... it's lost on you (and let's never speak of my adoration of ABBA again, in that case):

The long of it is, at the moment it's kinda bloody true! See, I'm going really well - I haven't cried for Pepper in days now, it's been a week and a bit since I helped her go to sleep on our kitchen floor.

Thing is, though, even though I saw that big ol' needle going in and held her head on my hands and reassured her to her death, I have been haunted by dreams that the drug didn't work and that she is actually still alive.

Three times now I have dreamed very real dreams where I have to decide whether to call the vets and tell them it didn't work or just shrug and say, "Well... we tried, Pep, looks like you're here until you really want to go."

They are absolute torture! Last night, during the dream, I actually told myself she was really dead. The needle had actually worked. I hope it signals the end of them. I don't know what it means, I haven't analysed them and I'm not asking or expecting you to, gentle reader. But man! I am nearly at the point of putting my fists on my hips and asking the wise Universe.... What gives?!




"If It Wasn't For The Nights"

I got appointments, work I have to do
Keeping me so busy all the day through
They're the things that keep me from thinking of you
Ohhh baby, I miss you so, I know I'm never gonna make it
Oh, I'm so restless, I don't care what I say
And I lose my temper ten times a day
Still it's even worse when the night's on its way
It's bad, oh, so bad

Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
How I fear the time when shadows start to fall
Sitting here alone and staring at the wall
Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

No one to turn to, you know how it is
I was not prepared for something like this
Now I see them clearly, the things that I miss
Ohhh baby, I feel so bad, I know I'm never gonna make it
I got my business to help me through the day
People I must write to, bills I must pay
But everything's so different when night's on its way
It's bad, oh, so bad

Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
How I fear the time when shadows start to fall
Sitting here alone and staring at the wall
Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)

If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)
if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)

Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)
If it wasn't for the nights
(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)

Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights
(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)
Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights

8 years on and finally: I'm OK today

The floating feeling for thirty-one days between the anniversaries of her birth and her death did not happen this year. For the first time, I was healed enough. Perhaps it was just that I was distracted enough. We'll be going gently today, Steve and I. We know what happened on this day, eight years ago. We were both there, after all. The weight of that tiny body will forever be felt in our arms.

The LGBB began school a week ago. If this day had not fallen on a weekend, I wonder if I would have had any time to notice the date at all.

You are newer to my story than I. It has been seeping in to my core for eight years now. I am not new to it. You may be coping with your own recently started infant loss journey. It may seem unfathomable that today could be anything but intensely sad forever... I get that, completely. I previously couldn't have imagined the day of the anniversary of my firstborn's passing being less than horrid every year myself.

In any case, I do not wish to diminish the impact I have previously always felt on this day. But I cannot deny that there has been a lightening of my burden. I hope this is a comfort to you, rather than insulting.

I have done and written all I can, from every angle and every which way but crazy.... well, no, that's not true; I'm quite certain at a few points during the life of this blog I have written whilst under the influence of my own tormented insanity - a mother's insanity - and I make no apology for this maternal crazy-insane slant in some of my earlier posts. I am sure that Ellanor will continue to provide me exceptionally well-timed points of learning.

For today, however, I hope that each of you will take the time to welcome her fairytale life into your hearts by reading the story in the link below.

Can a baby's short life be seen as a fairytale? Can there be any meaning at all in a passing that is so tragically soon?

I think, yes. On both counts. It is truly breathtaking. The message is Universal, in a way it represents the profound meaning of all life. But if you are currently in the turmoil of this in your own life, then it must be you who decides.

Please do come back and leave a comment here if you are moved to do so.

Little Ella: The Story of an Earth Angel  

(grab the tissues and settle in! This is a short story, beautifully told with a very important message 

- written the week Ellanor passed away, by Susannah Brindle)

Dear Miss Ellanor

Hello, lovely girl.

I'm getting swept up in wistful thoughts again. Wishing you were here this week.

Your little sister and I are getting ready to make a sweet feast on your birthday. You would have turned eight this Friday. I know 8. I remember 8. I felt so old, so grown-up. So ready to take on the world. It felt like an important birthday to me. Seems like such a wholesome number.

I feel a bit cheated this year for the first time in several years. Perhaps because I can remember being 8. And that hope-filled eight year-old in me is confused by all the hurt and pain. I have to nurture her, too, you know. Break this to her very gently. The world hurts. But it is such a beautiful hurt.

Thank you, my darling soul mate, for teaching me that lesson as well.

The other day, I was distracted in the kitchen. Stirring something on the stove, thinking several things at once. Deep in concentration. Out of the corner of my eye, my little girl walked in from the next room and stood a short distance away, saying expectantly, "Mum...." I looked up and said "Yeah?", expecting to see Lolly. She wasn't there. No one was. I stared at the vacant spot, disappointed my head hadn't turned a split second sooner. Lolly was metres away, caught up in her Barbie website. She looked over at me when I spoke and asked me, "What, Mum?" "Oh... nothing," was all I could stammer.

It was you, wasn't it? Well, thanks for coming, anyway! It was so wonderful to glimpse you. It's been too long.

You're there. I know you're there. Here's our song again, just for us. You and me, sweet pea.

You gorgeous, soft, strong, delicate rose. You hold the whole world, the entire Universe, in your soul. I know you do.

I miss you, Boo. I truly do.

Love

Love

Love,

Your Earth-bound Mother x




To view more letters to Ellanor and anniversary posts, please click here and scroll down.

2012: The Year of.... Contentment

We're reaching the pointy end of the holiday stick here in Australia, folks. I am getting to the stage where that blissfully still week between Christmas and New Year is going to be all but a distant memory soon. The past two years, I worked over that time. I've done it before. Doubtless, in my future years, I will do it again for various reasons/projects.

Not this year, though. This year I relaxed so much I almost became a liquid substance version of myself.

I am interested to see how long I can remain connected to the feeling and stretch it into this exciting new year.

When I think of the feelings and concepts that come up for me in this prayerful time, I have a pretty sublime looking list that I hope to carry with me into my Year of Contentment:

...anticipation. Despite (or because of) all its hardships, life will be good to me and my family.
...goodwill. Quiet, without fanfare or accolade or advertisement. The real kind. True service.
...frugal. Waste not, want not. This is the year to clean out.
...purge. As above, so below.
...be mindful of my mind. Where it goes, what it thinks, who it thinks about, why it believes it even has any business thinking about who it does. Further note to self: turn thinking "about" into pure... thought.

And just on that note, I am reminded to take with me this pearler that I picked up during my studies in 2011:

What others think about me is none of my business

For want of a more freeing statement, this has held true for me and has really helped me keep the "nah-nah-nah's" of my mind at bay more than once. Try it (if you need it too). It works.

Now, although I am not necessarily the one praying, there are others in the world in very zen states at this time of year (granted, you may not be/feel like one of them and fair enough!) - I am a great believer that (us being connected on some cellular/animal/vegetable/mineral level to the All) this group-conscious collective state filters through on some energetic level. How I react to that is varied. Sometimes it feels repellant to me and I resist, wanting to lash out, wanting to be pained... Not necessarily consciously realising that this is what I'm doing. Other times, I allow myself to align with the Zen State! I know it's the preferable way for me to be. But I don't beat myself up about not being there these days. Instead, I observe my behaviour and reactions with hindsight and move forward, better educated about what triggers me (and how I, in turn, affect others around me energetically with those triggered reactions).

If there are enough beings focusing their inner strength on being in a prayerful state, then surely it follows:

As within... so without.

Yes?

Are you in your prayerful state? Have you found it over the festive period? Or have you filled every single space in your time and mind so they are cluttered once more, before a new year has fully begun?

Defrag yourself! Hit that Reboot button in your psyche and refresh/clear the old patterns now so the new coding can be laid down afresh and set you on your true course for 2012.

Remembered into being

Ellanor was borne into being long after she became a thought. I had introduced her to my closest confidantes before I got pregnant. She included herself in our lives before she was born. She touched down here for the most fleeting of days - 31 to be very exact - and then tripped back off again. Leaving me to gather together all the memories she had left me with, so I could lean on them. Desperately at first. Despairingly, longingly. But always fondly. Even the hard memories. And then I got stuck into sharing them, mostly here on this blog (and my old one). The more I did, the more I discovered that she remained vital in not just my life but the lives of others.


Later in 2004, I had not a clue, not a whisper of a dare of a hope that I might ever feel like opening my eyes for one more day on this Earth, let alone wonder if any more children were to be our fate. It's just lucky for us that it was. That I never continued my thought process to my eventual untimely end (and how to do it).


It's a tricky thing.


She had to leave. I had to stay. But I know why now. 

Miss Lolly, a month after she burst my heart open even wider

The most endearing face in my world, 2008

Even when she makes more work for me, she is still my Heaven - 2011

For if she had not, the world would not have been able to welcome the shining light that is Ellanor's little sister. Like revolving doors, the two girls slipped past each other. Never destined to meet in the flesh.


But those memories I hold in my soft mother heart are Lolly's. They are there for her to wade in, explore, develop for herself. Memories that did not bring Ellanor into being but that ensure she has no beginning or end here on Earth, as it is wherever she goes now. She is the one who is free. She is the one who had the vision to come. And to go. How can I ultimately be anything but impressed by that sheer will? I am frankly in awe of her.


As long as we keep remembering. Their existence will continue to flourish.

In dedication to all the babies who are being cradled 

in the memories of their families this festive season. 

Peace be with you all. 

Together, we will never let them fade.

The Life Path: Heading for my Balanced State

"I take care of my own needs in order to take care of others."

This is my balanced state of existence. Self-preservation. There have been rare times in my life where I have mastered achieving it and it is something I do still have to work hard on. I am rarely in that state.

This is a bit of a different post today. 2012 is my year to get more serious on my blog with what I do. More on that as the year gets into full swing. But for starters, here is an opportunity to give back to you a little something of what I do "professionally" these days. I'd love to hear from you if it sounds like something that might be useful or relevant for you, so feel free to contact me. Confidentiality is assured (otherwise I'd be really quite shit at my work, wouldn't I!).

Okay? Read on if you're interested!


We all have a balanced state, unique to us. We also have deficient, excessive and fear states as well. When things aren't quite ticking along or seem out of kilter in our communication with others, or in the general way we see things in our lives, it can be helpful to gain further understanding so that we then have the free-will and choice to make change. In whatever direction. (Sometimes, I can have all the understanding about my particular way of being in a situation and still walk head-long - the long way around! - into further hurt and harm and shattering lessons)

My general life lesson/purpose is the responsibility of change - transition is my lot. For many years, I gnashed my teeth and was frustrated by the begin again and again and bloody AGAIN nature of my existence! When I discovered, through my study, a deeper understanding and purpose for this repetition, I had a far greater expansive awareness of myself and why I was going through the mill. Little by little, the begin-again lessons stopped, for I was able to look at each previously frustrating or hurtful occurrence in my life and learn about my role in them and whether there was anything in my power to change (if not how then) why they occurred. It was a turning point in my heal-the-healer journey I've been on.

The other states of the psyche, as I mentioned - and we all have these, but they are different for each of us - are "excessive", "deficient" and "fear". When we are striving to understand these, we can begin to have a more complete picture of what makes us tick.

My deficient state (when I am not quite feeling balanced and there is instead a depletion somewhere in my pattern) is "ego-centric", ie. "Things are not quite how I want them to be." 
It's all about meee! There is a certain aspect of wanting to control with this one. I am very familiar with it! It, too, is a lesson that keeps knocking on my door and as my life progresses, I can now recognise that this is not a balanced way to live my life. It has been helpful to know.

My excessive state (when the pendulum is swinging too far in the other direction and I am over-grown with something) is "aggressive", ie. "I expect conflict in my life."
This is where I am currently. I have been in an extended period of the excessive state of the psyche. It is not comfortable, it has kinda lately become my new norm, even though I know I am not this aggressive person. Partially, yes - it is in there and I need to know it to be familiar with my whole Self - but to this degree and intensity and for this long? Nu-uh.

And get this:  My fear state is "fear of death, or of birth."
Well, well, well. Hasn't that been one shock to my system then, eh?! It's little wonder, when I look at it, that I have been delivered the repetitive lessons that I have about death. And of birth. Why, my whole adult life so far has been consumed by both those things - the prospect of birth of each of my conceived children (that'd be 14 so far) and the death of all but one of them.

So, okay. I've mastered the fear state. I am familiar with but currently not steeped in my deficient state. I am going to diligently stay with the Excessive State lessons and see what I can work through. Because enough is enough.

------------------------

Have you reached a point where you're looking for another way? A bit of a break-through? That gnawing kind of feeling like you know there's something that is holding you at bay from "the next step" (whatever that is for you) but you just don't know what??

If anyone would like a consultation (online, via email) on their Life Path, I am available from January 2012. For a small fee, you will receive a pdf containing information specific to your numerological Life Path number, which is determined by your birth date. It can be general, as above, or a decade-specific one (ie. if you are in your 30's, the information provided can be specifically about your 4th decade here on Earth if you prefer!), or both if you want as much information as you can get. Also included are a couple of tools to support you along the way - your Animal and Plant totems (text), essential oil/essence understanding (text) and your Life Path colour mandala.


To get started, simply email me via kirrily@geneticfactor.com, send me a DM on Twitter, find me via Facebook.... there is a plethora of ways! All I need is your birth date (including the year) and a contribution via Paypal and you will have your Life Path reading in just a few days.

Worlds within worlds: A pictorial of a bushwalk in East Gippsland

During our recent holiday up Australia's east coast (only as far as Sydney, this is a bloody big country!), we had the great pleasure of enjoying a bushwalk as a family. It was the LGBB who insisted on the 5km bush and beach trek. I'm so glad we did it. There were some really amazing treats on the well worn, overgrown track. Tiny birds, big rosellas, little lizards, crazy fungus formations, whole copses of fallen beach shrubs that were stunning in themselves despite being long dead and flattened.

It was a humbling experience, coming from the beachside holiday spot in Lakes Entrance and walking just a short distance to get to the point of the actual Entrance itself. So untouched yet so close to all the modern conveniences. I'm quite impressed, actually, that they have conserved this area. It's only a great pity there are not more of these pockets of nature. It really contrasts with the paved roads, the industry, the devastation of tracts of land to make way for more "progress".

Along the way, there were many stops by me and the trusty Canon DSLR. Too many photos to share here but some of my best captures of what we saw are below.

First though... Any guesses what this is?

I'll show you the whole photo in a post later in the week, give you a chance to have a good guess.

Apologies for the pesky copyright watermarks. I'm just a tad protective.

On the boardwalk

Perfect natural borders!

Mushy

Gnarly, dude

Perfect flowers

The reward at the end - 2.8km in.

The beach was an entirely different kind of photo shoot, altogether.

......And if you're not all saying "it was an entirely different kind of photo shoot" in unison right now, I will be most disappointed.

More later in the week. 

I hope your weekend has been kind and restful and given you the chance to stop and notice the significant little things around you.

Study revisited: It's often just the little things

In order to extend beyond a stuck place, a plateau, I have to tell myself to get past the pattern of "this is what I do, this is what I know." Becoming unstuck is a process in itself.

One of the most genuine ways that I do this and stay true to who I am (whereby I remain closely linked to my own Source and guidance) is to honour my imagination. No matter how menial or basic my thoughts appear to me to be, when I bring conscious awareness into every moment of experiencing my every thought, I become so much more present in my day and in my own life.

No more putting down your imagination! How many of us have deeply contemplated our imagination lately? Respect your imagination and all it brings to you.

Remember, you do not have to prove or justify yourself to others; you only have to be true to what and who you are. As soon as I start concerning myself with how I sound to even just one "someone else", I have moved away from my centrepoint of being. I enter into another (or another's) realm and reality, which dishonours my own. In this manner, I am also able to be more respectful to another's truth (realm/reality) as I am truly honouring my own. Staying true to what and who I am is where I am strongest and living my best and most productive life. It's all good!

And breathe. Don't forget the breath! Conscious breathing connects us to all that ever has been from the beginning of life in all our universes.

Meditate on the base of the sternum. Here you are grounded in Earth reality and respectful stillness. A beautiful space to be. Sometimes, for me meditation is merely uninterrupted focused breathing. If I have ten minutes, I give myself that ten minutes.

This is the energy of Apple.

If you want to get really serious, place/visualise this mandala in your sternum area as you meditate

It's so basic I think we often forget to close the laptop and turn OFF the phone (not mute... turn the thing off!). But the respite these simple acts give back is well worth the effort.

If you ask me...

Meld only with those who honour who you are Now

Going through periods of change and growth, I have come to respect (and expect) that I will say goodbye to friendships and attachments as I expand my awareness of what makes me tick and that the more I seem to know about the world, the more I don't know.

I was remembering earlier a girl I used to work with. She had an anxious, confrontational nature, served with lashings of victim mentality and manipulation through (excellent, enjoyable) humour. But manipulation, nonetheless. I worked in the back office and she was the "face" of the company out front. I could tell what kind of day I was in for by the number of times she would turn her head this way and that, keeping her gaze on me, as she asked probing questions before I had even put my bag down in the morning after arriving.

Unfortunately for me, I fell in to the trap of placating her. A caller who slighted her on the phone would cause her to slam open the door to the back office - yes, you can bet it is possible to slam open a door.. try it! - and stand in the doorway protesting loudly about what she had just been subjected to. Or if it was just all too hard, there she would be - door slammed open, taking up the space between our two separate areas.

I never realised while I was there but this individual, who was at least six years my junior, was displaying behaviour that triggered reactions in me. Reactions to my mother that I had not long since tried to bury. I would be working away, concentrating on my screen and the interruption to my thoughts became a violation of sorts to me. Towards the end of her time there, I got to the point of feeling a tenseness creep its way across my shoulders and down my back, there to remain until my working day was over. I braced for the almost imperceptible sound of her rising from her chair, keenly listening out for her footfall on the plastic chair mat under her desk, knowing that at any moment I would be a captive audience of one to the latest vomit of "pity me" about to escape her.

Over time, I made the connection. I recognised the similarity in energy between this young woman and my (estranged from me by that time) mother. It was a moment of choice for me; I vowed to change how I behaved - both in terms of what I gave out and how I internalized what was coming at me - if ever I found myself in the presence of this sort of energy. I knew it now. I had known it all along, having grown up (and been raised) by it. But coming across this type of behaviour and energy output from a source external to my familiar circle helped the penny drop.

Years have passed now and there have been a couple of occasions where I could easily have fallen into the trap of shouldering the "burdens" of this type of energy again. But I haven't. I see them coming, usually, and practice (sometimes harder than others, depending on the situation) pure love - that is, the sort of non-placating, non-smother/mothering, universal kind of tough love that enables me to stand apart from the individual but remain in compassionate care and, sometimes, service.

This past-time was recalled while I was working today.  A paragraph that stood out to me read:

Do no bother to your “brothers of blood”, nor to those belongings you once had in bygone times, who act as reminders to you of your lack of “spiritual perfection”.  Instead, begin again and be able-bodied to the basic call to be at one with your spiritual calling. Some “past” influences and experiences in your life will fall away (Death), some will walk by your side (Rebirth), but the sum of it all—both Death and Rebirth—will be TRANSMUTATION.

What this says to me, as I remembered how I was struggling in that time with walking away from that person I worked with (and I still had several others in my life who leeched me in the same way, even though their personalities were different), is that sometimes the fear of change is what prevents us from changing. It says that just because I have behaved in a certain way for however long and it's expected of me (either by myself or external forces) that I will continue to take it because I know I can handle it, doesn't mean I have to. Or, indeed, that I need to. No. That actually serves to become a defeatist kind of devolutionary way of handling things.

I know, for me in my circumstance, I had to really look at why I kept attracting the same kind of friends and acquaintances. Not to blame myself, but to learn from it. Working with this girl was the straw that broke the camel's back - so to speak - and something in me said, "Right. Enough. I'm ready to start anew from Now.... ok, now.... How do I do that again?"

And the rest, with all my study now seven years in the making, is history.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to redefine myself. After Ellanor died, I was forced to start again! I guess I could have chosen not to. But I would have been denying a hell of a lot, had I done that. So with diligence and taking it very easy on myself - for I begin again, and again, and yet again all the time! - I define my own Now. I attract those close in who enrich and fulfil what I do and who I am today. I daresay for the most part, I know the ones who will continue to be there for as many "tomorrows" as I can foresee. But I also know that I don't really know how I will change and evolve either, as they are continuing to move through their lives too. The fluent movement of friendship has been something I have come to wonder and marvel at - the ones you thought would remain, the ones you were SURE were destined to end explosively and the vast number of surprise delights to be found in people that support your place in your own life. As you are. Now.

----------------------------------------------------------

There are other posts to be written about this. As well as the flashback moment I had recently regarding my own time in preschool and the conditioning surrounding being raised by a very sick mother.  But I am diligently trying to practice keeping posts short these days! (Hmmmm...... how'm I going? cough.... not exactly acing the short post thing so far)


Do you recognise repeat performances in your life? Of friends, family or perhaps colleagues who treat you the same? If so, I wonder what your next step has been/will be (and please don't feel you need to answer this in the comments, although I always deeply appreciate and welcome them! This is personal, private stuff. Email me if you wish, too :)

Get support. Get more balls. Not necessarily in that order.

We have these little prayer card things at the front door. Nobody ever touches them any more. The fad has passed. Except for her. She doesn't know what they say yet but she has always loved digging her hands in and pulling out the brightly coloured squares.

The house has been a flurry of activity, making up the spare bed, moving out the spare shit from the spare room. Why do we have so much spare "just in case" stuff? Time to turf that lot.

Anyway, the lovely Kristin of Wanderlust fame is jetting her way to us as I type. The cleaning is for her. Okay, and a little bit for me too. I do love a freshly cleaned house, rare as it is.

Yesterday, I walked past the shelf where the prayer cards sit. The LBGG had left a calling card:

Say it, sista

The LGBB has been looking forward to this mysterious American guest who is coming to stay with us for a few nights. "But who is she?" she wanted to know. Unfortunately, by my obviously confusing explanation, she will now be bitterly disappointed if Kristin doesn't end up looking like this:

Hellooooo, Prairie Dawn heeeere.

...because she is firmly convinced Kristin = someone from Sesame Street. Preferably Prairie Dawn. Last night, she was practicing her name in an American accent and told her Dad that's what Kristin will sound like.

I was thinking today how amazing Lolly is. She has been preparing in other ways to welcome our international visitor to our home. They are private preparations, something I don't feel is my place to share here, for they are Lolly's way of getting ready to open her home to a stranger (to her, Kristin is just that). And they are things I have never seen her do/request before. Last night, I was very impressed. She and I have always worked closely together on this unseen energetic level, even as a young child pre-speech. Traipse back through the earlier stuff on this blog - I sometimes posted about it.

Today, I dusted off my balls. These are the balls Lolly helped me pick out. I love them. They represent me, in a way. Us. Something that makes a statement of things I love and find beautiful. They represent me getting something completely impractical and bunging them in the centre of our kitchen table to gather dust. And be looked at. Just 'cos.

I want more balls. I can never have enough. Ceramic are the best. They're harder.

Pretty balls

Must dash. Plane to greet and all that.

And get yourself something nice! Do it today if you haven't done it for a while.

Fostering the Big Questions - moving on from the last ones

Today was filled with the kind of curly questions only a child can ask. And again - just as last time -  I was compelled to answer as truthfully as I could.*

It's like that when she looks me straight in the eye and squares her jaw; there is no getting around it any other way than honestly. The sort of tactful, metered honesty that shields from the gritty details yet doesn't shy away from the facts.

"What happened straight after I was born?" she asks me.
"Straight after?.... Well... your Dad and I brought you home and fed you and looked after you." I smile at her, remembering fondly.
"Yes, I know," she frowns, looking a trifle frustrated, "but what happened before that?"
She's getting her before's and after's mixed up at the moment. It's a stage.
"Before when?"
"Before, when Ella was born." 
I don't quite know what she's trying to decipher with her line of questioning so I can't guide my answers toward anything that will succinctly nip it in the bud for her. So we continue with the short answers-short questions.
"You want to know what happened just before Ella was born?" She nods.
"Well... when Ella was born, she was very little. I stayed in the hospital with her for a few days but then I had to come home. And when I did, she stayed in the hospital." 
She pouts sadly. I am certain I see a little look of sympathy in the way she tilts her head and makes a slight grimace. 
"But every day," I assure her, "I would wake up early and drive to the hospital and feed her my milk and talk to her and her nurses until it got dark and late at night. Then your Dad would drive from work and come and sit with me and we would look at Ella and talk to her together. She was a very lovely little baby."
My other very lovely little baby is sitting across the room from me, a range of emotions moving across her face now. I can't gauge if it's compassion for us or a sense of loss for herself, mixed in with a good dose of "I feel I've missed out on something you were all doing when I wasn't here". I daresay it's all of that. Then I realise she is trying to pinpoint where Ellanor is again. She does this, searching for her sister, a few times a year. I invite the conversations openly.... but they are still heart-searingly difficult.
"But... why did you leave her at the hostible?" she asks, her large blue-green eyes suddenly looking heavier, her little brow furrowing.
"Because she died, darlin', we had to."
Stated simply, just like that, it sounds callous and cold and hard-hearted. I know what she's thinking. I'm thinking it too now as we look at each other and the distance between us, across the rug and the arm of the couch to where she's leaning seems somehow suddenly further. If her father and I could leave our baby somewhere to be handled by goodness knows who, what's to stop us taking leave of our senses and doing it to her? I feel wretched for a turn, before my logical mind catches up and keeps me moving along before I get too morbid. That would not help either of us.
"Who has her now?"
"Nobody. She's not at the hospital any more."
"What kind of hostible did you leave her in?"
"A people hospital. Where doctors and nurses help sick people. You know, Lol, you wouldn't be here if Ella was."
"Yes, I know that," she answers me with a tone beyond her five short years. And she frowns again slightly, a pained, longing look on her face. She really does get that, I marvel to myself. "But why can't I see her? I want to see her." Ah. Getting it and living it are two completely different things, though, and it is this knowledge - that my child has been forced to remain permanently separated by her living from a sister she yearns for deeply - that really clutches at my mother heart.
"I know you do." Matter of fact. It's the only way. We agree it's shitful without saying any more.
"How did she get to Pixie Hollow?" she asks, changing tack slightly and mercifully saving me from the always uncomfortable "Well, why didn't any doctors and nurses save my sister" challenges.
This is the moment my heart swells to bursting. The Pixie Hollow explanation is something that Ellanor's sensitive little sister came up with quite on her own one day earlier this year out of the blue while we were driving. She told me that day decidedly that Tinkerbell and the fairies had taken Ella to live "on another planet because I think.... Yeah! That's where Pixie Hollow is!"
I hasten to quantify here that the LGBB is also very partial to the unabridged J.M. Barrie book, Peter Pan - the whole Lost Boys in Neverland premise fascinated our Lolly. What's more, I believe that Pixie Hollow (perhaps more due to the gorgeous name rather than the Disney-fied slant on "fairies" and, indeed, Tinkerbell herself) and Neverland are a mash-up of one and the same place in her imagination.
"You know what? That I don't know," I tell her honestly.

Our talk peters out at this point and I am left with a vacant but equally full feeling for the rest of the day. When we catch up a few hours later, Lolly is sitting playing on her bed with various tiny bits and pieces of some monstrosity that look like bottom-of-foot attractors if ever I saw them. Jagged and pointy bits everywhere.

She hands me a green glass-looking rubbed stone. "Is this a wishing stone?" she asks.
"I think it might (as) well be!" I exclaim.
"I've been making lots of wishes and they're going to come true," Lolly says nodding and glancing around her room before she launches into what I think is going to be her long list. But she only tells me one wish.
"I want a baby brother. And another sister." Again with the direct gaze and the square-set jaw. My goodness, but her eyes are beautiful. I'm distracted by them when I should be thinking of an answer. Fast.
"Wouldn't that be wonderful, to have both." I smile at her.
"Then I can have someone to play with," she says earnestly. Honestly. My loins don't feel any sort of stirring whatsoever, regardless of wishing desperately my only child was not an only child. We tried. Honest to goodness, her father and I tried.
"You know, though, babies take a long time once they're born to be able to play. Look at your cousin Blake. He's pretty little still, isn't he?"
She's unwavering. Her eyes look into me - through me - and I can kind of see she's not all here. I wait, watching her face, until she finally answers.
"I think they're not babies. Maybe they're older than me." 
Despite myself, I raise my eyebrows and nod in agreement. Yes, that's right. Perhaps they are.

I completely forgot until today that I have been tossing up foster parenting with Steve for some years now. It comes up once every year or so, since we said goodbye to Ellanor, but it never felt "right" to go ahead with it.

Perhaps? Maybe now? Lolly seems to know more about it than I. We shall see. If nothing else, I trust the Universe will advise, devise and deliver all in its exceptionally good, right time.



* (Just as an aside, that last Big Questions post is a really important read if you are dealing with them yourself - or trying to find a way through them with your surviving young, inquisitive children and wonder how the heck to start... also, take a deep breath in and just go with your best instinct! ;-)

Smile... no matter how awkward you feel.

Joined at the head

There are not many opportunities for me lately to feel a connection with the LGBB. We're (and when I say "we're" I mean "she's") going through a bit of a stage that's lasted a couple of months now. I think it must be one of those necessary rip-off-the-bandaid kind of stages, where she's growing away from us as she prepares for her New Life and entity at school next year.

I'm getting myself used to it.

But today I was afforded a little glimpse into the bond we have again and I reminded myself to remember to cherish the moments. To not make it so difficult for my daughter - starting right now - to find me wherever I may be and connect with me. If I lose sight of giving her that, then I have lost sight of everything meaningful in life. It's not going to happen. Not on my watch, it's not.

"Mum," the LGBB called to me from her backseat pozzy on the way home from swimming today.
"Yep."
"I have a dream a lot of times and it's about me. In space," she says with a bit of a chuckle.
"Oh, really? That's interesting. And what're you doing in space?" I ask.
"I'm just floating around out there."
"Ah," I say. "I used to have dreams like that when I was younger. I felt like I was in a space tunnel, going really fast."
"THAT'S LIKE MY DREAM!" she says, incredulous.

If I know nothing else about her, I know that my child has lashings of the sorts of insights and occurrences that I used to have. The memory of my abilities has taken decades to return, now that I am not afraid of them. There will be plenty of people in her life who will not only doubt her, they will downright tell her she's wrong. It is they who are wrong, actually - certainly, incorrectly placed - to tell her so. I've spoken here before over the past several years about not only the very strange (but ultimately cool, unexplained) things Lol comes out with. Most recently, she told me (as a 3 year-old) about arguing with a man who came into her room and told her this was his house and asked us to leave. She stood her ground, apparently, and told him this was HER house. Later that week, the neighbour advised me that the elderly gent who had sold us this house two years prior had passed away two weeks before.

Once you live with these sorts of oddities, they're not so odd any more. To say they are odd is to say my child is odd. And she's not! She's magnificent. It is not my job as her mother to be one of her doubters. Guidance and a way to help her accept herself and make sense of what she sees and senses, that is my main task. I don't encourage, I don't sway. And I don't tell her she's fibbing. Besides, she's too moral to lie. This kid may have the face of a poker player but when it comes to rule-breaking, you can be sure she'll give her own game away faster than she can try to cover up what she's done.

So the rest of our car trip is spent with her excitedly telling me what else she knows, now that she's discovered she and I share a "dream" (about space tunnels and really really fast stars zooming past, as if one were travelling somewhere else at the speed of light). And what else she knows is this:

"Mum, you and me, I think we share something."
"Uh-huh," I'm saying it non-committally, as non-committally as I would if I were replying to a request for TV and an icypole when we get home with a "we'll see" and a nonchalant glance out the window as if I couldn't care less either way. But my interest is piqued at this point.
"Our heads. I've seen our heads and there's an arrow going from my head to yours!" she states, sounding relieved to have articulated it, as if she's known with some authority that this is what she sees.
"How cool." I say.

And the conversation ends.

May she continue to amaze me, and may I have the strength and the courage to bend with the winds and opinions of the wider world.

My little thinker:
Putting our heads together (I see no arrows here...)

Better the devil you know: Facing a demon in the garden

I dug out no less than three blackberry root balls in the garden yesterday. For some reason, I needed to do hard physical labour so the weeds got an absolute shellacking.

As I wrestled with the stubborn, deep roots that would not give ground, I mused about the fact that these things have been here in the corner of our front yard for over a year. I've barely given them a cursory glance in all that time. About six months ago, when the bushes were in full pelt, strangling the beautiful native shrubs around them, I had a go at Steve for not containing them and overpowering them before they got so out of control. Dumbfounded, my husband (correctly) assumed it was better to simply don his gloves and get hacking than argue any rational points he had regarding timing of removal, proper equipment to do the job once and for all, or his already long To Do list for that weekend.

But the problem didn't go away. I cursed the return of the blackberries. Having been poisoned, they were weaker now. But they were beginning to grow and get healthier again, having staked a good position for themselves.

There is a young grevillea that I planted the year we bought this house. There is also a menacing, determined blackberry stump with a trunk thicker than the grevillea right beside it, strangling the life out of it. I can see the native is weakening, its leaves are yellowing. The blackberry is gaining strength beside it. They are fighting for the nutrients in the ground, both of them struggling to survive. I can't have that happen again. It's time for the plant to be saved. No more letting things take their course on their own.

So I intervened.


As I pulled and yanked at this blackberry yesterday, having conquered three other smaller ones nearby and feeling high on "Take THAT!" power, one of its thorns pricked my thigh deeply through my pants. I felt like I had been bitten by a snake. When I looked down, I saw that it had sunk into my flesh and I had to delicately remove it, being careful to pull it out the way it went in. I don't know if it was the rush of the pain registering in my head or the hunger for that euphoric feeling of the roots giving way to my force, but I suddenly felt like I was doing battle with the demons of my childhood.

I don't speak of my molestation on here. I don't feel it necessary. I will never go into detail, that's for sure. That, too, is not necessary. Suffice to say, for three years (at least) from the age of six, my innocent life as a child was stunted, interrupted, stolen. These were not sporadic, random happenings. These were systematic, ever-present, regular sessions. I know the scenes well. I know my feelings about it all very well. The healing is all but finished.

An event happened recently that enabled me to see just how far I have healed in the past couple of years  (this is something that has taken me over thirty years to properly and safely release). The push-pull yesterday with that unrelenting, strong blackberry was no accident. I began to curse it under my breath in my sunny, beautiful front yard. I felt safe. I felt in control. I felt I could over-power that fucking sucker of life and save the beautiful young plant trying to blossom and grow alongside it.

It is a delicate operation - their roots go deep, side by side. One false move or a premature stab and I risk severing the life cord of the precious plant by mistake. So I backed away from the project for the day. I was starting to get a little stab-happy with the spade, like a woman possessed.

The cut. Running parallel with the vein. An ass-hatty reminder
 that this thing HAS to stop walking beside me.

The blackberry remains, for the moment. It did not yield. But it will. It stung me, as if to remind that it is still there. Still present. It won't let go without a fight. But it is weakened now. I really worked hard at destroying it. I will conquer that invader. To save the organism that is now healing beside it.

I have scars. The blackberry got me. Again and again it got me. But I know I can beat it now. Those barbs don't sting nearly so much with the realisation that I am stronger than it. It has to go. I felt the roots giving. I'll not let the sun go down today without removing it ceremoniously from its place. Its purpose has been served.

Thank you, blackberry, for what you've shown me today. Now... piss off!

Returning to the back yard in the late afternoon sun, I took a seat and was treated to the LGBB practicing her skipping with the skipping rope. I gazed past the roof of our house and saw our spectacular liquid amber, naked in all its late winter glory. It was leaning towards the sun. I had never noticed how much so until that moment.

It knows what to do. And look at the tall, thriving tree it has become in its lifetime.

We all know what to do, to survive.  Don't we?



Where are the barbs snagging you in your life? Are they deep-rooted? Have they served their purpose and is it time for you to do some weeding?


Don't forget to lean towards your life-giving Sun.

Sometimes there are rainbows... and then there are RAINBOWS

Was worth getting rained on to capture this one while waiting at the lights yesterday!

I was never really into rainbows as a kid. I mean I liked them, sure. But I didn't squeeee with delight. After Ella died, I did not associate seeing one with her, although I do respectfully acknowledge that the identity is there for so many bereaved parents and partners of lost loved ones.

It's only been since having our Lolly - and her being such a rainbow fiend, possibly thanks largely due to this book (and the sentiment seems to be spreading, see how Lori @ RRSAHM finds them...) - that I have really stopped to wonder about rainbows. See the wonder in them. Marvel at how they actually occur. Appreciate their colours and the very many ways they bring cheer, particularly on dreary, ruddy awful, wet soggy cold days.

The most incredible rainbow I have ever seen in my life almost caused me the greatest car accident I've ever had in my life. A great honking double, unbroken rainbow, so completely commanding the sky that it even lightened the sky underneath it.

I mean, sure, there was this ace one I took one day (whilst doing 110km/h down the country freeway) but the one the LGBB saw on our way home yesterday was so astounding I had to pull the car over so we could gaze at it before it disappeared.

But it didn't disappear. And there were so many exclamations bouncing around the inside of our car that I don't know what was filling me with more joy: the LGBB's squealing adoration of it and pleas of Oh pleeeeease, mummy, can we get to the pot of gold, please, pleeeease, please, can we? as if today was surely her day - it did look so tantalisingly close - or the exquisitely bold colour spectrum. We could see so many colours in it.

I have to say, I was gobsmacked. Totally astounded. While we drove, the rainbow seemed to be coming from nowhere yet everywhere. It was literally coming off the glistening gum trees, all wetted down from the recently passed thunderstorm. And then as we mounted the crest of one of the tallest hills in the area, it was right before us. Settled on the roofs of houses below.

We could have looked at it much longer. But as we continued to drive, it eventually faded.

Never seen anything like it. It's the one you always think rainbows ought to look like when you think of A Darn Good Rainbow.  Textbook stuff.

Avoiding the dissolve into chaos - Putting patterns into perspective: Part 2

Sorry it's taken me so long. But here it is. The cliffhanger episode of what happened this one time I found myself in an energy-sucking fight to the negative-feedback death on Ebay. I know it's long, but I hope you will come with me on this one. It's important. (and you might want to read the first part of this exchange to get the background to this one).

So where did we get to? Ah, yes. Noticing at some point - blessedly early - that I was being drawn in somehow. Note this does not mean I absolved myself at all of any of the responsibility. In fact, if anything, the fact that I began to see what was happening made it almost solely my duty to salvage what was left of my own dignity, go for broke and back away. This in itself is something I have only recently matured/evolved into doing, where before I'd leave a parting shot just as the door hit me on the arse.

Perhaps it would be useful to explain how I recognised it and what this felt like:

•  I found myself feeling superior, initially. I felt I had the upper hand. This was a clear-cut case of opinion vs opinion and I am well versed now in holding my own (and defending same). All I needed was a bit of thinly veiled arrogance via my wordly way with words and I would be right. Right? *deflating balloon sound*
•  I was thinking about it for an increasingly longer space of time. It began to consume my thoughts - while I did dishes, while I was trying to watch the small bit of tv I grant myself at night time, while I was reading the words from her story out loud to the LGBB at bedtime but not hearing a word I was saying because my mind was leaping to wild conclusions about the swathe of new emails I would find when I left her room.
•  I was getting angry.

This last point was interesting for me to note. Why would I get angry over something like this? Something relatively so far removed from me, and over a toy that held hardly a skerrick of sentimental value?

What I do know about anger is that

as soon as I get angry towards someone, I am reminded that I do not know 

everything about the situation. 

If nothing else, I hold as true as I can to this. It is something I try to tell myself as early as I can possibly wrangle it from the archives in my brain where all these past years of study, dissecting and understanding about the myriad ways we humans interact with one another have been catalogued and filed. As soon as I remind myself consciously (I am still waiting for it to become an unconscious, more flowing reaction to my own anger - a way of self-soothing and taking the red hot excessive force out of my self-righteous hot-headedness), I feel a small wave of relief. I go in to the moment of clarity further. Repeat it to myself in my mind.

I don't know everything and I am making assumptions about this person's situation.

Of course, it goes without saying that it took me a little time when I began to use this self-talk technique to go easy on myself. There were times when I would almost argue with the two sides of my brain - the one that didn't want to give over being Right. It would invariably be talked down from the ledge by the other side of my brain, pointing out that being Right was not necessarily always Correct. Two different but very connected things. Hard to let go of if you are used to being on the defense, continually, as I was. Conditioned by my childhood, my upbringing, my peers, you name it.

But none of them operate me or pull my strings now. I don't allow them to. Which is not to say I do everything correctly all the time. Far from it! Want to see the last spitfire reply I sent my Ebay seller? Here, take a geezer at this lot:

Sorry. My apologies. I offered you a full refund twice. I will honour your insistence that return postage is paid for. Give me account details or a Paypal email address. You will be refunded as soon as the item is returned safely and undamaged by transit.
Much appreciated.

Now, you might read that and not think much of it. It might sound even polite to you. But it doesn't to me. For one thing, I am never that succinct. And for another, I knew exactly how riled I was by this point. By some saving grace, it was all I wrote.

 And that is where patterns come into it. 

Having several hours or more with the email program closed down so I was assured of some breathing space to sort through this, I got my hands busy. I cleaned. I washed. I thought bloody hard. What was it about this particular woman - this stranger, but representative of something that had always "got my goat" - and how was I going to learn from it so I would never again have to confront the same uncomfortable lesson?

It wasn't long before I worked my way around to the realisation. The lofty tone of the woman, the fact that she was a woman, that she had at least one child (so she was a mother) because the toy she had won from me was for a grandchild.... it all built an instant picture, a representation, for me. Without properly being able to explain to you (it was just a knowing), I was reacting to her in a couple of ways. These ways were, namely:

•  her self-assumed air of authority - "I know better than you and you will do as I say... but you have to guess what I'm saying" (grrrrrr!).

•  the almost pious tone in the correspondence. My own words were matched with an obviously well-learned, well-read, calculated trump each time (double-grrrrrr!) and I felt invalidated and belittled the more the exchanges went on. My point was not being validated. I knew that if this was a family member, I would be holding on tight by now and it was certain to get ugly soon.

And, booyah!, that was the money shot. Right there. I recognised a family pattern in play with a stranger. Something I had equally set up within the exchange. And something, mercifully, I was able to nip in the bud because I did not have nearly as high a personal stake in the outcome. This was someone I should actually be thanking. Someone who would not be continuing to hold the pattern, for she was from an entirely different upbringing and background to me. Perhaps, if I were to have a crystal ball and the ability to dig deeper via conversations with her (never gonna happen), I would discover some startling similiarities. Perhaps that is why we locked horns in the first place in this way.

At this point, all I was now aware of was that I needed to express as much of my truth as I was permitted to a) inflict on the other person (for this was my learning - hers was going to be her own) and b) try to nip the cycle in the bud. So I sent back this in response to her latest really long accusatory off-point email, which I received as soon as I turned on my computer:

No worries. This has rattled me more than you may realise. One must never assume anything online about where someone is coming from and I feel like my story is being told for me. Bizarre. However, I can only assume ownership of my own inappropriate and irresponsible energy exchanges with you. It is highly out of character for me to have interacted in this way over the course of the past 24 hours, so there is a lesson there (for me). What you take from this I am sure you will on some level of your own choosing.

If I could start this over again, I would. I am quite horrified (and mortified) by the whole thing, including your assumptions of me.You just let me know what (if anything) you actually need me to do. All I have gleaned so far is that you want to be heard. Please take it as read that you have well and truly stated your case.Enjoy your weekend. All the best.

I had to then expect the best outcome. I had put it all out there, without exposing my entire vulnerability (for I was so shaken and rattled by this point that it did not warrant me leaving myself so wide open for another possible "attack of words" from her). However, I did not feel nearly as absolved and cleared as I had hoped. This aside, I knew I had responded with honesty and integrity. I really bared just as much as I was willing to allow her to see. So be it if she received it in the way I was familiar with (the familial pattern to cut down the tall poppy, the one who stuck her neck on the chopping block and admitted recognition of her own failings but wanted ultimately to make things right...).

I then wrote that post you read a week or so ago. And did not post it for several days, by which time, knock me down with a feather. I had received a most unexpected response. In part (removing any identifying information), it reads:

I am just letting you know that I am delighted with the (toy). It looks great. My grandchild is going to love it.

Life's lessons can often come to us in unexpected ways. Having thought about it, I think you were right, I did want to be heard. In the past, I would not have even contacted you. I would have just been unhappy with the condition of the (toy), and probably relegated it to the garage or the op shop.

Since (my parent's) unexpected death in February, I am trying to change aspects of myself that I was not happy with before. One of them being, instead of doing nothing, contacting people and letting them know what I am unhappy with, and thus providing the opportunity to change the outcome. I decided life was too short to live with indecision and just letting life get on top of me.

In this case I believe my words were probably too strong, and certainly the assumptions you took, were not what I intended. I was just reading the other day in a book by Dianne Cooper that when we react strongly to something, then we should be looking closer at why, that this is when life's lessons often come to us.

It seems strange to be talking to you in this way, and I do not even know your name. I will certainly be looking for the lesson in our encounter.

Wishing you all the best

Now, I don't know about you, but I would call that a rather successful result from what was surely setting out to be the Ebay exchange from hell. I even got positive feedback. Further, it was not lost on me that this was coming from someone who was at least a couple of generations ahead of me. That we could work this out, from our different backgrounds and ages/stages of life.... well, I am truly humbled. And excited about the possibilities this represents.

Here we both discovered that we were actually coming from exactly - no, let me reiterate, EXACTLY! - the same place. The need to be heard. This had been, for me as much as for her, going by the sounds of her email, the same well-worn pattern for the both of us for some time. That was the dynamic in this particular case (I'm not saying it will always be a fight to the death about needing to be heard). How interesting was that? No wonder we were both hotly pursuing our own cause. 

With this realisation, I saw in hindsight that without being the bearer of the olive branch this opportunity might have passed us both by. Again. While at the same time, in no way did I relinquish my own sense of personal power. In actual fact, if anything, I affirmed it by properly speaking my truth instead of continuing to battle her with will and wit (what she did with this was always up to her, but it would never have jeopardised that sense of self that I thankfully recouped during the exchange unless I let it be so... thereby prolonging and confirming the same old pattern).

I will always remember this woman (by name, for she gave me hers). And I will thank her silently and humbly appreciate the way the Universe continues to deliver its greatest lessons if only we are so willing to follow through on the challenge. It's not nearly so hard as long as we strive to upturn each exchange, each challenge, each lesson, to the most positive path.

Well..... that's what I reckon, anyway. I not only avoided the moment dissolving into chaos, I actually inadertently helped us both dissolve a long-held pattern. Perhaps conditioned by upbringing, perhaps passed on as a "family way" or trait. Whichever, because we were able to recognise our own parts - and lessons - in the exchange, I have no doubt that next time (if there is even a next time, for the moment doesn't usually arise again for you to deal with if you have actually overcome the struggle and striving survival nature of the pattern), we will know much better our triggers and our tools for further dissolving and disowning what is not ours to own.

Wow.

Now, a completely optional question to answer (because I am interested in you!):  

Do you have any patterns - family traits or otherwise - that you know are red rags to the bull? Ummm... you being the bull, apparently, in this scenario? I have many. Patterns, not bulls. I'd love to learn from you. And hey, sorry for calling you a bull. *smiles sweetly*

(p.s. I just wanted to address the fact that I have not shared any of the earlier, hotter exchanges... I don't feel it necessary or conducive to any sort of positive, productive insight to extend the ill-will in them, which is why they don't appear in either of the posts on this topic)