Connections like rain drops

So today I went to a spoken word poetry event . One of my favourite venues chilled and friendly. Beautiful old church.

This is the story I told after I’d finished reading I was approached by a lovely lady who is possibly a relation of Matthew the man in the story.

As she spoke I was reminded of what I already know

Without doubt we are all connected. We are a circle within a circle with no beginning and never ending.

Read on tell me what you think?

Ancestor connection.

I worship the old gods of this land the isle of Albion.

I follow the wheel of the year. Tonight the wheel turns it is Samhain eve in a 13c churchyard.

Its 3am and almost a full moon. There is a avenue of yew trees and it’s without one of the most magical places I know.

It’s my favourite place for ritual. The place I come to give thanks, to show gratitude. To talk with spirit.

To think to read. To just to be.

I wonder from my usual path many of the tombstones are overgrown covered in ivy surrounded by knot weed.

Standing back from all the others is an old stone old coffin shaped base it is covered in ivy.

I’m always drawn to it but no details are visible.

I stand in the moonlight. I ask ‘who are you?’

Touching the base of the cold stone.
I start to pick at the ivy..

it has pushed its way into the grey stone clinging green fingers into the details of intricate carved words.

I chant and hum quietly to myself it becomes quite mediative

As I pull at the vines they come away in narly sharp lengths sometimes tiny pieces that cling with remarkable strength.

We are a circle within a circle with no begining and never ending. I sing to my yet unknown companion
Time slips by slowly and the winter sun begins to rise birds begin to sing.

The carved words become visible.
I read out loud. Matthew Goodridge. Age 43
Mellincreethin a shiver runs through me as I read the next line .

Died 31 Oct 1888 Samhain..

Further down I read the names of Matthews daughters .Sarah Anne 14. Tirzah 9.
I catch a glimpse of someone watching me from the avenue of yew trees a tall man he nods smiles politely lifts his cap as he walks slowly through the avenue of sacred yews.

Matthew I whisper.

The sun shines as Celtic new year is born.

I sit there beside Matthew his two young daughters .

I will remember you Matthew.

My samhain ancestor of this place I love.

We are a circle within a circle. With no beginning and never ending.

All of us connected. The stuff of stars.

That was four years ago Matthew.
Your stone stands straight and tall cleared cleaned and cared for.
I remember you often.
This poem is for you.

Your tombstone stands among the rest;
neglected and alone
The name and date are chiseled out
on centuries old welsh stone
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn
You did not know that I would exist
You died centuries before I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you. stardust connected
in flesh, in blood, in bone.

Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
entirely not our own.

Dear Matthew goodridge , the place you filled
hundreds of years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left

who would have loved you so.
I wonder of your life you lived of those l loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
and stand here to honour you.

Help.

I need help. There I said it!

I run a cottage retreat offer free breaks for cancer / end of life patients.

Im a soul midwife end of life companion and advocate for anyone who needs me.

No charge free.

Therapies visits support all free.

Im also a wedding and funeral celebrant this service is also free for patients

I also have to work full time to finance this bills have to be paid.

Car needs fuel.

Mortgage electricity oil ect.

What I need is someone to advise me and or help with funding or grants that I may be eligible for in the U.K.

My dream is to be able to devote all my time working as soul midwife but at the moment that’s not possible.

It’s so important that my services remain free.

I never want someone to think they can’t afford a soul midwife.

Donations are fine I’m good with that

There is a donate now button on my website.

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

But to enable me to let my paid job go I need some sort of funding

So do you or anyone you know have any experience of how to go about this?

I know there is the national lottery grants act but I’m hopeless at all this entails

We are a community interest company.

Completely non profit.

So I know we are eligible.

If you can help.in anyway or you’d like to fund raise for us.

I’d be eternally grateful.

Please share our website and this post.

Hopefully someone can point me in the right direction.

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

Home is where the heart is. Canals, lakes and waterfalls my town.

I am forever grateful for this small row of cottages and the bank of the tenant canal in South Wales where I live.

I settled here fourteen years ago.

We originally looked a bit further out from the city as houses were cheaper.

I’m so glad we did.

Don’t get me wrong readers of my blog will know we’ve had our fair share of problems massive flood thanks to storm Callum in Oct 2018

But in a way it made me fall in love with this magical place even more.

Family’s helped each other bonds and friendships were made and strengthened

It’s not a posh place to live.

Small two up two down cottages

But it’s paradise to me.

Our home is here.

Our cancer retreat and therapy cabin is here.

Our cats our dog geese swans and birds

Home is where the heart is.

My heart is right here.

For that I’m truly grateful.

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

Old photographs. Damp walls, singing kettles and coal fires

I came across this old photograph.
that’s my Nan and grand father the year is 1966.
that’s me sitting on my grand father’s knee, my niece Angela is the baby in the shawl.
I don’t remember my grandfather.
he died when I was three.
my Nan was amazing a huge influence on who I am today.

Strong northern woman.

You can see from the photo they didn’t have much.

She always worked he like all the men in our family drank never a few always too much.

This was taken in their home a very old run down terraced house facing a park in a collery town in the north of England.

I remember the smell of damp. frayed seat covers on the old two seater sofa I’d pick at the sponge foam through the thread bare covers as I fell asleep listening to the sound of my Nans old Jones treadle sewing machine
it was a magical rythem of my life.
The playground across the road was known as Nanny goat park.
it stood in the shadow of glass factories.

I remember cold fingers gripping the handle of the roundabout as nanny’s old staffie dog Bruce barked until I’d get off.

Cold morning air white spiders webs in privit hedges
Ice on the inside of the bedroom windows. Cold breath in the air.

Chopping stick in the mornings to lite the fire.

The smell of fire lighters and inky fingers from screwing up yesterday’s news paper to insure a flame.

Grand dad died when I was three and nanny moved to a council house with a garden
no park across the road but also no smell of damp.
the windows had lead that reflected onto the bare plaster walls from the light of the street lamp.
while I’d snuggle under sheets blankets and coats to keep us warm
complaining that they made me itch
She would shush me and given a stone hot water bottle wrapped in a tea towel.
sitting on the back doorstep waiting for the kettles whistle hot milky tea.
sterilised milk and a chipped China cup.

Perfect boiled eggs and thick buttered toast.
hearing her singing Vera Lynn White cliffs of Dover and shouting at my cousin’s to stop kicking the bloody football on the side of the house.

Jesus Mary and bloody Joseph she would shout followed by your make the bloody saints in heaven swear as my drunken dad would fall into the back door the smell of beer tobacco and vomit.

John players fags from the shop and jug of stout from the outdoor.
Rapping her door shouting through the letter box.

Naaaaaaaanny

laughing when she would tell me to bugger off home.

Stop bloody mitherin me!
Corned beef hot pot.
massive egg custard tarts.
bacon ribs and pea soup.

Lying with my head on her lap the smell of Sunday roast on her pinny.
her orange lip stick from the Avon woman with the blue bag.
boxes of old black and white photographs telling stories of her life. rhubarb onions, and spuds from her garden
pop soxs and polka dots.
string shopping bags and the football pools. silver hair
Always protecting me I loved being around this tiny woman .
I think this is the only photo that I have of her.
That’s all I need.
the rest I carry with me Nan.

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

Gratitude, simple things, amazing inspiring people

I’m lying here in bed thinking about my day.Incase this is the first of my posts you have read I’m a soul midwife / therapist I run Ravens Retreat.I provide care, support, nursing and therapies for cancer patientsI have a little cottage that I offer free breaks in for cancer patients and their families.Yes you heard right FREE.No catch.It’s my service to the community and my goddess.How do I fund it?I work full time for the NHS community mental health team.It’s the only way to pay the bills and run the cottage.Not ideal I know but until I find someone who can help me apply for grants and fund raise (we are registered as a non profit company)I’ve no choice.This means I work a 70+ hour week.And I juggle between the two.So today .I go to see a lady I’m working with in the HospiceShe has stage 5 cancer stomach, lymphatic, liver.Final stages she’s 56 I took her into the Hospice four weeks ago they thought she may not last the night.She’s still here a true warrior over the past 14 months we have become good friends.Today as I go into her room she is sleeping I sit quietly besides her. He skin and eyes are yellow she has lost so much weight I pick up a book we have been reading.She opens her eyes and smiles at me “Joolz”Why didn’t you wake me?You looked so peaceful I say and I’m not in any rush.Within a min she is sitting upright giving me instructionsI smile as I get her a cup of tea, make sure it’s ….Strong and hot I laugh..You know me well she says.I put her in her wheel chair and we go down to the sunshine lounge.We sit and chat whilst I do a reflexology treatment on her feet.Rose oil surrounds usCan you do my shoulders she asks..Of course I rub oil into her back a tattoo of an all seeing eye looks back at me she loves all things Egyptian.She takes great pride in making me laugh at the fact she had visited Egypt many times but has never seen a prymidI’ve had a good life she says.But this now is no life is it?My hands are on her shoulders she places her hands on mine .Thank you she says.Your welcome I whisper.I push her back around to her room telling her I will be calling in on her grand daughter on way home to take a mould of her finger print.It’s to make a silver memory necklace I will place her finger print with her granddaughters and put it on a silver chain.Can you put nan on back of my print she asksOf course I say.Keep your eye on her when I’m gone she says.I catch my breath.My grand daughter and hers are friends.I squeeze her hand I will .I fix her bed and help her in.Pull the covers up around her neck as she likes them and tuck her in.I’m so tired she smiles at me closing her eyes.I kiss her gently on her head. See you tomorrow.If you need me in the night ring I say as I’ve said every dayShe smiles thank youNight night MammyShe laughs.As I walk away pull her door shutWalk out into cold December air I’m beyond thankful for my small part in her journey.It’s a privilege to walk with her to the end of this path.Such an amazing beautiful soul.Working with end of life patients changes your way of thinkingI am truly grateful every day for all that I have my health my familySometimes when I have colleagues or friends who are complaining about trivial problems I can help but ask them to role play with me.Okay I say. I’m the doctorI’m sorry to tell you that you have a terminal illness and have six to twelve months to live.The reaction bis almost always the same.WHAT…remember this is only role play.But very real for some people.Now think do the small things matter?What would you do if you only had six months?Would you be more great full ?Would you heal old wounds ?Hold grudges.See more of those you care about.You get the picture.I know life can sometimes be hard.But remember it is always beautiful.Look for the joy.Gratitude is the key to happiness.

❤️

Please share our website

http://www.ravensretreat.wales

Walk in the sunshine

Walking around the lake today with Mavis her last post op appointment at the vets.
Everything is fine.
Although she’s developed that dog planking thing they do when approaching the vets door and suddenly realizing where they are.
Accompanied with a hysterical bark far too loud for such a tiny dog.
To reassure her I she isn’t staying as we leave i fuss her then walk her across the lake to Jeff’s garage were I’ve left my car.

The lake has outdoor gym equipment surrounded by visiting Canadian geese basking in September sunshine
Middle aged men in office attire attempt to lift themselves pulling and pushing at lime green bars casually walking away after failed out of breath attempts.
I sit on a bench watching mams with kids chase balls dogs and toddlers on scooters dropping quavers and melting ice creams .
Get down, and be careful echos in the warm breeze.
As the mothers smile but silently count down the days to back to school.
Men sit fishing eyes closed multiple rods balenced on stands beside them. Plastic sandwich boxes and flasks of tea
Bright red Rowen berries sicamore seeds and blackberries whisper of autumn and the wheel of the year begining to turn.
I love this time of year.
So many shades of green
I feel so very blessed to live here in Wales
There is truly no where else so beautiful
I am grateful every day.
.

Pre loved magic

I write every day.

In my phone’s note pad.

My work diary on printer paper.

My head is like a theater stage sometimes as I’m driving I’ll have first few lines of a poem float onstage

I’ll pull over to note them down least I forget.

Storytelling and poetry is such an ancient way of learning. Passing on information.

The druids are a good example spoken word.

My other favorite thing is second hand I was going to say clothes but to be fair it’s every thing.

I have an old oak dining table I bartered for at a car boot sale it has four odd chairs.

It’s role has morphed into a desk a very untidy desk!

Paper note books, Books I’m reading there is always more than one.

There is something comforting to me anout old furniture, pre loved that have belonged to other families been a part of other stories now they are part of mine. I especially like it when things don’t match.

Cups and plates I have an old Welsh dresser with beautiful odd china plates and cups

I bought it for our cottage not thinking of how it would fit through the front door ! Everything here is second hand apart from the mattress.

Old cottage, old furniture. Im sure if I added up how much I’d spent it would be under £800 for the whole house.

We live in such a disposable society.

I think if I’ve got a bedroom chest of drawers that does the job why will I ever need to change it.

I love second hand shops, car boot sales charity shops.

All my clothes are pre loved

There is a Fab charity shop by my office

A little old lady runs it raising money for animal charities.

She has a few just a pound rails.

I never fail to find what I need in her shop.

It reminds me of a childrens program from the 70s called Mr Ben.

Mr Ben was an ordenary man he would go into a shop try on a costume then step through the mirror into another world to a new adventure.

That’s how I feel in Jeans shop.

I love it when girls in work comment on some thing Im wearing and I can say it was a £1.00 🤣

Anyway I’m off on a tangent I was asked to a rarther posh awards ceremony few weeks ago.

Our cancer retreat had been nominated.

Everyone going chatted about what they were going to wear.

How much they had paid where it was from.

Hair make up.

You get the picture.

I moaned to Jeff I’m not spending money on something I won’t wear again he laughed well you need something new go shopping he encouraged me.

I hate shopping.

I reluctantly got myself ready for a trip into Cardiff.

But thought I’d call into Jeans shop first.

Off went like Mr Ben looking for a new adventure

I tell her my dilemma as I look through rails of clothes.

nothing ..

I have to admit I was starting to panic.

What if we win an award?

What if I have to get up on stage?

I turn around to leave resigned to fact I have to go into town crowds of people and hassle of car parks

Thanks Jean I say turning to leave then

There behind me on a rail I’m sure I’ve already looked on is a dress.

Bright red.

Bell sleaves it’s stunning

How much is this Jean.

I say holding it against me its perfect.

£5.00 to you darling she says

Have a wonderful evening.

Thank you Jean you saved the day. She laughs

That night I dress put on my red and black boots Wow Jeff says that’s stunning.

Cardiff?

No don’t be silly.

Jeans shop.

We step through that magic mirror and two hours later I stand on stage accepted the beautiful award with my beautiful daughter in law Sarah,

I talk about Ravens retreat the work that we do and my beautiful brave friend Donna. (Sarah’s Mam) this award and everything I do is dedicated to her.

Im surrounded by beautiful women in designer dresses who had spent the day in the salon.

I don’t feel out of place.

I’d spent the day on the mountain and a hour with Jean in her magical shop.

I stood on stage to have a photo Lou whispered joolz I love the red dress.

£5.00 I smiled from jeans shop I just couldn’t resist and i know Donna would approve.