Don’t look back

I’m never really unwell. Possibly because I don’t have time.

Some weeks I work 40 hours in my paid job n.h.s community mental health.

Then another 30+ hours at our retreat and working with my soul midwife patients.

When I see it written down its madness.

But it’s my life and I have no other option at the moment.

My paid job pays my mortgage on the retreat. Puts fuel in my car, food on my table.

Allows me to provide free breaks and free soul midwife service and therapies .

I’m trusting the universe and I know that eventually I will be in a position to give up my job and devote all my time to cancer patients.

Anyway I digress I’m I’ll.

Not part of the plan but hey ho

I swear it’s when I stop.

My body goes yay.. she’s still and I get a cold or virus.

I’m crap at nursing myself every one else just not myself.

Nurses make crap patients.

So good friend of mine offers me shamanic healing today

I lie on the couch surrounded by aroma of sage and without trying I’m totally relaxed.

I’m vaugly aware of Chris at the head of the table

I’m immediately taken to the beach.

My guide Richard is there waiting we fall into step.

Where are we going I ask.

You already know he says.

In that riddle sort of way I hate.

I sigh and walk. The wind blows gently the sun is warm

Then we step into the familiar cave with the carved seat in cold smooth stone I sit down and he sits beside me

I’m aware of my breathing

Then as we both stand up I feel detached .

I’m walking behind Richard and myself.

On my back I can see a huge moth

With purple wings. Wait aren’t they purple curtains?

There before me is the window I looked out of so may times as a child.

My bedroom window.

I look through it the view is the same

Old oak tree.

Green fence

Old shed.

My bike leaning on the gate.

The porch roof under my window covered in green

Lead pealing off.

I pick at the chipped paint on the window sill.

I glance around

Old record player one knob missing pile of 45 records from Woolworths.

Humpty Dumpty poster holding glass of beer on the wall.

Dressing gown on back of the door.

Old black wool coat with red lining on my bed no duvets here sheets and coats.

Purple curtains.

The house of death has me again

Moth wings

I’m now aware of a pain.

In my root chakra.

Ouch I bend my legs up.

Why are we back here I ask Richard?

You never really left he says.

The pain comes again stronger.

Like a contraction.

I’m back in my body beside Richard.

He holds my hand.

As I turn away from the window the moth wings go back to being purple curtains.

You don’t belong here says Richard.

I hesitate.

He smiles waiting .

I walk towards him and don’t look back.

The weight had left me

I hear chris chanting the pain lessens

I sit up.snd I’m back in the room .

The water is cool.and fresh

I’m home in our cottage

Where I belong.

Thoughtful.

Reflecting.

Thank you my friend.

For guiding me home. ❤️

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

Belfast, titanic, making memories.

This is my second visit to Belfast. We are visiting my son and his family Natalie and my grand daughter Hattie.

It’s nine months since our last visit.

Too long .

So today Matthew has organised a trip to Titanic Museum it has been awesome.

Belfast is such a beautiful city with friendly beautiful people the weather has been kind and I’ve pinched myself a few times reminding myself how lucky I am.

My grand daughter Hattie such an easy going polite little girl an absolute joy to be with but oh how they grow up far too quickly

Lunch in the cathedral quarter at a beautiful little restaurant called Made in Belfast .

The vegan choices are stunning.

Then back to our hotel.

I’m lying here reflecting on a perfect day

I’m truly grateful for all that I have.

Family and health are everything.

Memories I shall treasure. ❤️

Nan

Shouting through her letter box .
Pea soup cooking
Heavy blankets on the big bed.
The archers on the old valve radio
Crazy paving in the garden

Blue lino on kitchen floor.
Tea caddy and aliminium dented tea pot on old pantry shelf.
Whistling kettle on the stove.
Peeling lead on the windows making shadows on the bedroom Walls.stone hot water bottle wrapped in a tea towel
Boxes of swan vesta matches

Brass fireside ornaments
Mirrors that hang on chains.
In their corner they hold captured Victorian painted ladies with parasols furniture polish smelling of lavender.
Lavender tree hanging over the gate.
Rubber spouts on old kitchen taps.
Wooden draining boards and twin tub washing machine.
Tracing paper toilet roll and pink carbolic soap.
Snuffly clever Staffordshire bull terrier to greet us with his tin dish wanting food.
Card games and laughter by the fire for pennies. With cousins.
Bingo at Park Street chip on way home. Cold night air
Head scarfs, blue Mac and walks to the shop for her John player cigs, milk and bread.
Walks to the outdoor for a jug of stout.
Old tins containing buttons black and white photos of memories and stories of her life.
That smell of home of cooking cleaning of love
Fragments pieces of my Nan’s house
Memories of love.

Final journey

I’m sitting here mid afternoon listening to you breath steady hum of the hospital bed mattress keeping you comfortable here in the living room where you have brought up your family.

Sringe driver increased dose today keeps you comfortable. You have declined this last week. Cancer…..

Your a hard man, a grafter but the pain has taken the glint from your eye.

I tell you what’s going on around us I’m taking your dog patch out, that Jeffery your son my husband will be here after work.

Always “Jeffrey” full title never Jeff.

The picture of you and Nancy hangs over the bed in younger years with your mop of dark curly hair you look greek both smiling and happy.

Memories of the past family parties birthdays, anniversaries when you and your twin brother would arrive dressed the same we would laugh knowing you hadn’t planned it. I can only imagine the trouble you two caused when you were young lads handsome and cheeky.

Before your women tamed you.

You and your Nancy.

Douglas and his Ethel

You had always been close.

Bringing your children up together. Holidaying together.

Ethel was the life and soul of the party few drinks and she would hold up her skirt dancing around with her infectious laugh. It’s a good few years since she left us cancer took her too.

I wondered how Doug would cope without her.

Now I can’t imagine how this family will carry on without you Malcolm.

Sixty plus years Nancy has loved you and your children and grandchildren idolise you.

Douglas your twin your other half. He’s never known life without you by his side.

My Jeff was run over suffered massive brain damage as a child you told me you couldn’t go to work as a lorry driver without him screaming the house down. So you would take him with you up and down the country. From here in Wales up to Scotland. I’ve never been I told you.

Go you encouraged there is no where like it.

You gave jeff car engines told him to take them.apart then rebuild them you always believed in him

He is amazing just like you are your boys run their own garage they rebuild camper vans do mots any engine Jeff can fix it.

When you and I sat talking few weeks ago you told me you’d also taught Jeff to build ‘ go and look at the fireplace in front room you winked twinkle in your eye.

You had built it.

The garage overlooking the bay. Did you build that too I asked.

“no that was Jeffery you laughed he built me a garage then put two horses in it and used it as a bloody stable!”

You are so alike. Peas in a pod . Father and son, friends.

We laughed cars and horses that’s my Jeff

That’s our link our connection Malcolm we both adore the same man. How can I thank you enough?

I sit here while your Nancy sleeps for a little while she had seldom left your side

I whisper thanks and promise I will look after your lad.

That we will take care of Nancy

I bet Ethel will be there waiting and your best friend Jock. What a party that will be Malcolm.

As Dad’s go I don’t know a better one I wish I had known you longer

When you go I whisper come back sometimes and see us I think I feel you squeeze my hand.

I whisper again to my goddess to take you gently carry you on this last part of your journey. Keep you safe

My heart hurts but I remind myself I’m blessed to have had you in my life.

Fingerprint memory jewellery

I love crafting. Wood has always been my favorite to work with. Runes, wands, Pyrography. It however has taken a back seat this year I’ve been busy with other things plus I managed to spectacularly burn down my beloved shed in March I say spectacularly as it was full of a year’s worth of wood I’d collected stored to dry which was all ready to be used for various projects so when I went out to walk my dog and arrived home a hour later to a fire engine blocking the canal bank and a house full of firemen who by the grace of goodness had got there in time to save the back of the house and give me a well deserved row for forgetting to switch off the tumble dryer. I was slightly more than a woops moment.

So as I said no seasoned wood to hand I was looking for something else.

I attended spirit of awen camp in August and met a wonderful lady who works with P.m.c ( precious metal.clay) jade moon you can find her on Facebook her work is out standing she is a true artist.

I loved the way it looked and shall eventually own a piece of her work.

Anyway I was looking for something I could make to give to families for soul midwife patients I’d worked with something personal a keepsake .

Jade’s work came to mind so I rang her to ask if pmc would work with fingerprints?

She gave me some pointers on moulds ect and I have to say I’m hooked.

I’ve seen fingerprint jewellery before we’re it is an actual fingerprint put onto silver. You know the type the police use.

I wanted to mould the print.

Then the mould is reusable so I can keep it and make as many pieces as may be required for the family.

It’s took me a few weeks to crack it. And a few failed attempts. Precious metal clay isn’t cheap!

It’s 925 silver when it’s fired.

I managed to buy a old tiny kiln (goddess bless e bay)

This batch ready to fire I’ve used a leaf shape I’m so pleased.

Beautiful silver fingerprint on a leaf pendant.

They will go to the family as this year’s solstice gifts.

And yes I’ve remembered to unplug the kiln!

Circle of Women

Women are from Venus Men are from Mars.

I get that.

There really is nothing more powerful than a circle of women .

Strong, unbreakable, inspiring and much more

Women’s best friends are stronger often than blood.

Or at least that’s my experience.

Women’s friends often know them better than their partners .

They are the duct tape that hold each other’s lives together.

How do men manage without that?

I have a few close women friends and I know without doubt they have my back and I have theirs

Free thinkers, poets, dreamers, rebels, square pegs hippys women who walk barefoot and arnt afraid to be exactly who they are.

Make no excuses take no prisoners. Who dance in the rain.

Honest funny, loving. Passionate

My tribe.

Chosen sisters

I love you

I am truly blessed.

Old trees and water.

With a history spanning a centuary Carr Mill dam has hardly changed at all.
It offered the residents of the estates surrounding it a consistent link generation to generation .
There were of course natural changes. Trees had matured, dirt paths had worn around the edge of the water and been made safe shored up and covered in chippings.

The block of shops and minature railway line built in early 1960s has long since disappeared in it’s place the back of a hotel famous for cheap beer and Sunday lunches.

The boating club and beautiful ninteen arches bridge still stand proudly. Speed boat races on a sunday the familiar wizzing noise of the boats could be heard from my bedroom window Generations of ducks.like generations of the same families breed there and never leave.

But for the most part the Dams gentle evolution had gone unnoticed.
In a sheltered spot on the far end of the Dam where most walkers tend not to bother walking the passage of time has been noticed the least. It’s here should you look you would find an old oak tree growing between a steep enbankment and the Waters edge.
The bottom of this huge tree is hollow an arched almost door shape big enough if you should want to you would fit. Why? It’s a fab place to sit to think, hide or read.. It was a huge tree then when I sat there wondering it’s age as a child and my children sat there too whilst I sat on the bank wondering what it was about this place that seemed to pull me back to visit.

That huge old tree I knew each curve and knot as my children climbed and hid around it I remembered sunny days spent here with a favorite book or sneeking into the farm in the next field to.stroke the old black mare. It was quite a magical place. It was my go to place for decisions I was there the night I decided to move to Wales I haven’t been back there for over seven years now but I’m pretty sure nothing has changed since I lived opposite.

The road down to the the dam is full of pot holes not unlike the canal path I now live on in wales
I’ve always lived by water and woodland and I’m sure it was Carr Mill dam that sparked my passion and love for solitude and nature. My go to tree is now on a canal bank.
One day maybe I’ll go back to the estate and the Dam
If you ever find yourself there before me go sit by the oak tree. Take in the view and the quiet.
sit on the moss by the water you may see a dragonfly or two. Say hi from me