Remember Me….

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How will I be remembered when I’m gone from this life and only a memory to those who once knew me. This question troubles me because I don’t want to be thought of for my imperfections.

Please don’t remember me because I straightened the sofa cushions after you finished sitting.  Remember the conversation we had while you sat there and that I listened intently to you and that I was interested in what you had to say.  Know that I cared about you, that I loved you dearly and that I was so proud of you along with the relationship we had with each other, whatever that relationship was.

Please don’t recall my perfectionist ways, I never looked for perfection outside of myself, you were always so perfect. To me you were always amazing and I believe you will truly go all the way. The sun shines out of you and exposes your warm spirit, it’s why I wanted to be with you.

Please don’t think about the fact that I couldn’t sing, remember that I kept trying, and it made you laugh and yes sometimes embarrassed you. We laughed, I laughed and you all laughed with me and sometimes you sang too – I know you revelled in my happiness in those moments as I did yours.

Please don’t think of me as a housewife either, because when I tidied up around you or swept the crumbs from the table while you ate, it was because I wanted to be near you.  I wanted to blend with your energies, feel you and care for you.

Please don’t think about my materialist ways, my love of handbags and shoes and need to bring home a shopping bag each trip out. I was confused, in search of beauty, but nothing really ever meant as much as you do to me.

Please remember that we travelled together in each others dreams, we broke through the universe together and anything was possible. Those frightening ones where we worried for each other turned out okay too, didn’t they, we lived another day here together.

Please remember me as a mother, a friend, listener, cook, artist and a lover of life -just remember that our pathways crossed whoever you are. That we complimented each other for a short while here, and that we knew each other was a gift.

Please think of me with a smile on your face and remember that I will always think of you and connect with you in love.

The Universe Speaks

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Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have a feeling that I understand all the universe has to offer, it makes complete sense and I wonder at how it has taken me so long to understand. It is like a long awakened memory, that has been pushed down so far its feels fresh and new.

I can only compare this feeling to something menial like solving a difficult maths problem, building a flat pack wardrobe without the correct instructions or tallying end of year accounts. What seems to be an insurmountable problem, suddenly makes sense and fits into place with ease. Have you ever wondered at what took you so long on a job well done, thats the feeling I have when I wake up in the middle of the night with the certainty that I know all thats humanly possible to know.

I’m so smug, elated, overjoyed. I can tell the world where to find what it has been searching for so long. I don’t need to write it down, it is so clear in my mind, perfect, perfect, perfect. I lie there for a while thinking about how I can use this gift, until I drift back to sleep again.

I wake up, it has gone, I’ve lost it. I know it is in my mind somewhere buried deep in my subconscious but for today it’s lost. I have this dream often and yet I haven’t written it down despite the notepad by my bed. I know I will have the dream again, it is my calling the universe is communicating with me. I know one day I will remember what it has to say because otherwise the universe wouldn’t talk to me.

Thoughts on Spirituality

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We spend a lot of time trying to discover who we really are, find out what we should be doing and how to live our lives. We attempt to connect with our true selves, through meditation, mindfulness and just regular kindness. We treat our bodies well and love as we should, unconditionally when we can. We are kind to the planet and follow as best we can the recommended spiritual pathways. Thousands of books have been written on the subject of spirituality, from many different points of view, but who are we really?

I believe we are spirit incarnated in a physical body, living regular lives on this planet called earth and that is the problem. A spiritual being is made up of energy and colour but without form, spirit is thought, love and feeling not matter. When we are born into this earthly existence wherever we came from and whatever we knew before, the first primitive things that hit us are the needs of our physical body. We need warmth, food, clothing and shelter and there it begins our departure from anything we were connected with before. We have to find our way through a world based on materialism, where what you own counts more than what you do. We are programmed from the moment of our birth into whatever society we are born into, there starts the race back.

I believe we come her with a plan, we know what our purpose is and have a hand (turn of phrase) in planning our journey. I think we even choose our families and friends in returning to the same soul groups, but play a different part each time. Not all performances get a standing ovation, but we can hope we get it right this time. We know as spiritual beings what the objectives are, in our all seeing all knowing form we understood. In retuning to the same soul groups we will influence and challenge each other, assist each others journey and hold each other back. Until we realise this journey is ours and ours alone we will not fully make progress, that is not to say that a big part of our journey might be service to others.

I think we choose our challenges but that is  undertaken from a higher perspective, where we have what I call, the long view. We know what experiences we need to realise and overcome in order to grow and make progress on our spiritual pathway but we have to do it in a materialistic world full of obstacles from the moment we arrive. It does seem like a cruel trick, a difficult level in a game that we have to keep repeating until we get it right. But we do progress, I can look back on my life and see the steps I have made to get here now. I hate looking back, I’m not proud of some of my selfish and often easier choices earlier on. They say your life flashes before you when you die, there are bits of it that I see now and recognise as failure. But I hope I’m marked on my overall performance, what steps I made along the way and how much I changed. What if we get it wrong, do we have to do it all again, I’m inclined to think we do.

I believe in reincarnation, I’m not sure how it works but I believe in the continuation of the soul and reincarnation seems to me to sit nicely within it. So each life we progress until we reach a place in which we do not have to return. I’m sure there is more work to do after this but we won’t need to return again unless we chose to in order to help others. There’s a thought, say we return as a master and get it wrong, do we have to start at the very beginning. I think it can be easier to understand if you look at it like a game of snakes and ladders, each life is a new game and how quickly we get to the top depends on what we find in our way. It is so easy to land on a snake and find ourselves back where we started.

So we experience rejection, loss, poverty and illness here and have no idea why. I think that we probably have to come to a physical environment to experience these things. We are spirits learning how to be better and this is a stage in our learning, we need to overcome and find the true purpose of life in a place that doesn’t have the answers. If we think of the afterlife as a library and ourselves as students we have to agree we couldn’t sit our exams in a library, we have to find an appropriate place, an exam centre so to speak. We are all students working through the practical stage of the exam and we won’t get our results until we complete it, this might just be the foundation level.

So what about our higher selves, our greater consciousness, the part we tap into sometimes when we meditate. I’ve been told that we are connected by an invisible thread and that part of ourselves does not come to earth but remains in the spiritual planes. When we truly connect with our higher self we get the answers, because that part of us knows and can guide us in the right direction. I visualise my teenage self up there with my higher self, I think she can learn from her as could I.  One problem with any form of connection is that it is we talk with our mouths, listen with our ears and work things out with our brains, spirit don’t have these things any more so we have to learn telepathy or something in order to interpret what we think we feel.

Anyway who knows, sometimes I think maybe we should just let the mystery be and find out when the race is run.

Goodbye David Bowie

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I’m in shock, it feels like family, David Bowie died without telling anyone he was ill. I suppose he told his real family but he didn’t tell the world, those of us that think he is connected to us on some profound level and our loss feels personal. David has always been around throughout my life, like an older brother, younger father or cousin, uncle or very special friend. David has been singing songs for me and mine since forever. We sung them too, at the top of our voices to karaoke while drunk and silently in times of great pain, he was with us at those most poignant of times. He shaped our youths, he gave us ideas and introduced us to great works of art and thinkers like Burroughs, he allowed us to believe. He had something to say and that something was very important, will we see the world in the same way again.  David gave us strength and belief that anything was possible, he was weird and wonderful, beautiful and sexy. I love to put on Bowie, knowing every word or thinking I do, strum of the guitar and blow of the sax. David was a musical genius, trendsetter and musical rebel and he will be missed by the world.

When my mother died we played Jean Genie as the first song at her wake, it felt like he wrote it for her, it spoke of her to us. I felt that David knew my mum, knew all of us, I think he actually did meet some of the family. I’m sure my uncle Tony, made some of his guitars back in the day, when Tony was still alive, although I think it was Tony Visconti that picked them up and I’m absolutely sure Bill met him on the club scene. Simon’s claim to fame is the day in the recording studios when Bowie walked past and said to him ‘nice shirt’ and my cousin was born on his birthday so there has to be a family connection.

When people die, I like to have their music, know what they want at their service, I have a note section on my phone called ‘Dead Songs’ where I keep my friends favourites. I do have a ‘David Dead’ section but that’s another David, a friend who doesn’t sing very well. We knew my mum’s and we knew Bill’s it was important for us to get it right. Mum chose the exact recording of Judy Garland singing Closer live at Carnegie Hall and Bill, Stan Keaton’s Intermission Riff, of course they had four more each all perfect on the day. David released his own death songs three days before he passed, his last album Black Star, he was a poet, his music and lyrics move me, especially today. David wrote his own epitaph, he was incredible he will be missed.

There is an outpouring of grief today, social medial and TV and Radio have covered it all day. It seems to me watching and listening to the news today an awful lot of people are crying. David inspired generations, he gave us hope. Some think it strange that we grieve for a man we didn’t even know, but we did know him through his music, we knew that quiet, sure and brilliant artist. There is a party in heaven today, or maybe somewhere on Mars as David has gone home. He is rocking with angels tonight and I think it is probably very colourful, none of your white and serene. He has friends there to greet him and we will see him if we look to the stars and believe.

Goodbye David, you will never really truly leave us.

The Visit to the Medium

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‘Hot cross buns, hot cross buns, one a penny two a penny, hot cross buns’ she sang across the room almost in a whisper. ‘Is there something about Easter I should be thinking of, is it a message of some sort?’ the young woman asked the medium sitting patiently across from her. ‘The thing is I can’t seem to get the tune out of my head, it is like it is on a loop and I can’t think why. I mean it is only January for goodness sake and I don’t believe I have even seen one in the shops yet, surely we have to get through Valentines Day first’. She looked across the room at the spiritual medium she was visiting who was silently smiling over at her. She wondered if she appeared mad, what did she really hope to get from today.

Rosie had booked the appointment on the spur of the moment, she had seen the card on a shop notice board, it had jumped out at her. She took it off of the cork board and slipped it into her pocket hoping she wouldn’t be seen and scurried from the shop to the park bench, where she made the telephone call to Myra. The woman on the other end of the phone sounded friendly enough. She said in a gentle voice that interestingly she had just received a telephone call from a client cancelling an appointment, and yes, although she had been fully booked today this cancellation opened up a space at one o’clock. She went on to say that maybe it was synchronicity, it certainly felt like that to Rosie.

After making the call Rosie began to feel a little nervous, she hadn’t been to see a medium before and today she was going on her own. Why did she even feel the necessity, what was she hoping for she asked out loud.  She scrolled down through her contacts on her iPhone wondering who she could persuade to come along. Exhausting the list of hopefuls Rosie realised she would have to go it alone, she didn’t want to put it off now she had made the call she didn’t know if she would be brave enough again.

Myra was situated just off of Haydon’s Road, in a little cul-de-sac full of red brick victorian cottages. Rosie got there a little early and walked past the house looking up at the windows. The curtains were drawn against the sun at the front which sent a little shiver through her, would the house be full of the spirits of the dead she thought, would she be frightened. Rosie waited a little further down the road, propped against a garden wall until the time of her appointment. At 12.50 Rosie watched as an elderly lady left the house, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue before getting into a waiting taxi.

On arriving, she was shown into a small siting room, Myra told her she used specifically for spiritual consultations. The walls were painted white, but the room was full of colour. Everywhere she looked Rosie could see bursts of colour, from the crystals, ornaments, pictures and statues to the spines of the many books stacked neatly on shelves. A picture on the wall above the medium appeared to draw her in, the colours where quite overwhelming.  Rosie believed could feel the colours in her stomach, she felt a pull that she didn’t recognise. Surprisingly Myra herself looked quite ordinary, nicely painted finger nails, long blond hair and wearing a black dress with a scarf tied neatly around her neck. Rosie had expected something else, a gypsy maybe wearing silk, bangles and beads but Myra looked like anyone else, although admittedly attractive.

Hearing that Rosie hadn’t seen a medium before Myra had explained a little about how she worked. ‘I don’t give predictions my dear, I see and hear spirit and pass on messages from the afterlife’.  She paused a moment before continuing ‘I have had a lady with me all morning and I wasn’t sure who she was, now that you are here I know that she is here for you.  But first I would like to know what you hope to get from our meeting today?’. Rosie wasn’t sure, she had come on a whim after not being able to get the hot cross bun song out of her head, but now she was here she didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted from the session.  Rosie garbled out how she had the song stuck in her head, she didn’t know why.  In fact she didn’t really know what had brought her here today, she had just not been able to stop thinking about it and then the card on the notice board.  She fell silent feeling a little silly and out of control.

Myra began to describe the woman she had with her, it was clear it was Rosie’s mum wearing the dress that Rosie alway saw her in, the green one with the cream spots and the lace cardigan. Rosie listened silently as Myra spoke of memories from her childhood. A tear trickled slowly down her cheek as she felt her mothers love and the words the medium said resonated throughout her very soul. ‘Your mother has a message for you my dear’ Myra said as she looked directly into Rosie’s eyes. ‘She want me to ask you why you don’t speak to her now she has passed, she wants you to know she is really here, that her love hasn’t died and she is with you every moment’. Rosie looked across at the medium, through her mother who stood between them in the small room. ‘I don’t know what to say’ Rosie whispered. ‘I see her all the time, standing by my bed, looking over my shoulder in the mirror and sitting next to me on the bus, but I can’t speak in case she disappears, you see she is in my imagination, she died last year’. Myra smiled gently ‘ oh you really don’t know you have the gift do you, do you not realise it is you mother you see not your imagination my dear’ she paused ‘Imagination my child is made up of the word image, you have to start believing in what you see’. Rosie looked up at her mother, standing in the room between them and for the first time since her mothers death realised she was still here.

There really wasn’t an awful lot more to be said in the session, the main message had come out straight away. It wouldn’t have been right to carry on with a reading they both agreed, well all three of them in some ways. Myra gave Rosie another card with the details of a development group, she told her it would help her begin to understand work with spirit when she was ready and Myra said she would be happy to talk to her if she had any questions. Myra told her she was very happy to have helped today, this wasn’t what she would usually expect on meeting new clients. Myra said ‘you never know what spirit have in store for you’ as she saw Rosie out.

Arriving home that afternoon Rosie put her key on her mothers trinket tray by the door and sat for a while reflecting on the days events, she thought back over the last year, realising at the same time her mother had been with her all along, she hadn’t left her at all.  Later Rosie opened the freezer looking for dinner options, she was starting to feel hungry. There on the top shelf was a pack of hot cross buns, frozen and forgotten. Rosie turned looked at her mother who was standing beside her ‘thank you for taking me there today mum, for putting the song in my head, for showing me the card, we won’t be needing her anymore but I did need to hear the message to really see you’.

Today is Good

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Today is a good day, this weekend has been good and that is because I have had to face up to who I am and what is actually happening to me. I got myself bitten by a bug on Friday, it seemed to give me an allergic reaction of sorts, and I have had a cough and flu like symptoms and felt generally unwell since.

I went for a walk around town yesterday with my friend, I felt poorly. She wanted to check out the charity shops for her Pride costume.   I suggested we go into the Martlet’s Hospice, vintage shop, it’s where you might find their special bits and as my friend pointed out, often a little pricier. I walked over to the sales counter and there on the necklace rail was one of my mum’s necklaces. It stopped me in my tracks, like seeing mum there somehow. I looked closer and found there were four of her necklaces hanging there, there was no mistaking mum’s style. I burst into tears and left the shop wiping my eyes as I left, as if it would be all okay if I got away.

I thought back and remembered taking a big bag of her necklaces down to the charity warehouse nine months ago, just after she passed away. As I handed them over I didn’t imagine I would see them again and if I did, quite what the impact would be. They weren’t the best, I kept those and have them hanging around my bedroom. One pearl necklace is wrapped around her ashes on the shelf, mum always wore a necklace, why should that change. Some others went for next to nothing on EBay, I really didn’t know what I was doing in those early days after she left.

I came home yesterday and slept on the sofa for most of the afternoon until I went to bed, I thought if I slept everything would be better, my bug, my emotions, all of me. I cursed that I would get ill on a Saturday, how typical and the sun was shining, I should be out.

Today is Sunday and it is raining hard.   It’s certainly not a day to venture out far, although I went out for the ingredients to make a nut loaf for dinner. Mum used to love my nut roast and I don’t believe I have made one since she died nine months ago. I haven’t baked a cake either, I only started baking in the last couple of years of her life and I haven’t had reason since. I told mum I cooked for her with love and by eating my food she would fill up with all the love I had put inside, whatever it might be.  Anyway I made that nut loaf, it’s sitting on the side for later and it looks perfect.

I have cried a buckets today, I watched ‘Long Lost Families’ where adopted children finally find their families. I have cried an awful lot today, it’s okay I need to and I think I probably need to cry more. I believe I have been in denial in some way, I just rushed ahead thinking if I kept my head full I would be okay.  I wasn’t used to caring for or worrying about me, mum did that.

The weekend Mum died, my stepfather had a heart attack and they discovered cancer in his throat. I collected him from the hospital and brought him home to live with me.  We attended mum’s funeral together, that was before he declined too much and needed her wheelchair. Everything was so busy, clearing mums flat, arranging the funeral and looking after Bill that I really didn’t have time to grieve properly. Then on December 28th, Bill died with my sister and I sitting next to him, trying to help. He had been happy with me, he was looking forward to the summer, but we knew all along it wouldn’t be long. His purpose disappeared after mum died, I think that the cancer just masked his broken heart. Then it was Bill’s funeral to arrange and I had to find work again. I hadn’t worked in nearly two years, caring for mum and Bill so I was in trouble financially. I put my head down and carried on with my life.

I talk to mum and Bill all the time, their pictures and memories surround me in my home, I am cluttered with them and I have never been cluttered before. There isn’t a day I don’t think about them, but I manage these feelings. There ashes sit side by side on my bedroom shelf, him with a tartan ribbon and mum with her pearls. I don’t think it morbid, it is comfortable, I am not ready to let them go yet, I will one day, I’m just not sure when.  Most of the time I forget they are there, well their not really.

I have been filling my life with nothingness for the last nine months, I have been trying to carry on, while at the same time feeling ashamed of myself for doing so well.   I have been filling the empty gaps so everything will be okay. My food cupboards and fridge are ridiculous, I constantly buy food and then throw it away. If I didn’t buy food for six months, I don’t think I would go hungry. I forever need new clothes and shoes and weekends away. I don’t say no often either, I’m always free to lend a hand, listen to a problem, keep someone company, no problem, of course!

I complain about being too tired to think, too tired to care, I feel more to the point. I think I have lost my passion, dropped it somewhere maybe. I work but have no interest really in what I do anymore, it is just a means to an end. I think I have lost the essence of me, who I am, I think I’m wrapped up in grief and denial.

So today is a good day, because it rained, because it slowed me down and because I cried. I know everyone grieves differently, I have been trying to grieve without grieving. I thought somehow, that if I carried on, it would just get better. I’m going to give myself more time like today, I’m going to face my feelings and give myself time. Today is a good day because I realised that my feelings won’t go away if I ignore them, they will get easier but I am denying myself if I don’t acknowledge the hurt I feel now. If I were to carry on like that I think I would be doing myself an awful disservice.

Saving the Cockroaches.

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My friend suggested cockroaches through the letterbox, or even better fire ants but I’m remaining sane this time.  My boys hurting, he has been treated unfairly, bullied and intimidated by an imbecile, twat, selfish f……there I go, now back to sane.

As a mother, it really hurts deep in your insides when someone trips your kids up in any way.  From the playground to adulthood, it doesn’t get any easier, it hurts like bloody mad.  I think when you have children, you learn what fear is for the very first time, you realise that you can be demolished quite easily, without even being known or seen.

I’m a rational human being, I’m a carer, I love people for their flaws and forgive more than most.  But when it comes to my boy this rather weird, screwed, insane woman emerges from my bed each morning.  I am a witch, crow, hag and potential murderer!

No, I couldn’t kill, but god do I fantasize about it on occasion, alone in the dark, driving down a quiet road, I’m not me anymore I am the avenger of all the wrong in the world, I am the saviour of the righteous and the slayer of all the nasty little shits I can find!

What can I do to help myself, help my boy so his mum isn’t locked away.  I have to remain sane and share my sanity with the world.  I have to bury that demented cow that keeps getting up every day and find her good kindhearted sister.  I have to be grown up and get on with life.  I have to forget that revenge is a dish best eaten cold or frozen.

I believe all this crap I read about being good and kind.  I think like attracts like and we are only given what we can deal with in life.  Every challenge is a lesson and a new door is opening and all that good stuff.

So now, I have to think about my wonderful boy and be even kinder when it comes to cockroaches!

Losing Mum

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My mum died on Sunday 26th October at 23.00. The death certificate states she died the next day as the doctor took a while to get to her, he said he was sorry for our loss but he was busy.

I feel like I’m walking around in a different season or maybe in a different world completely at the moment. It’s not the same here without my mum, but nobody seems to know that, life goes on just like it did the day before she died. Everybody is moving far too quickly and I can’t seem to keep up, time is running away with itself while I am standing still. Life for me at the moment is like watching a movie, I can see what is going on but I’m not really in on the act, I’m sure the credits will roll at some point.

I have thrown myself into being busy, too busy to think, too busy to face anything I can’t face right now. I’m cleaning out mum’s flat with my sister, I’m sorting our mum’s stuff like it belongs to a stranger. There are moments when I pick up some clothes, a jacket or cardigan, and sniff at the collar like a dog looking for a scent. I want to breathe in her smell and feel safe within it again, I close my eyes and imagine she is there with me. But the moment passes and I continue sorting the junk from the jewels.

We stayed those final days in the hospital with mum, the doctor called for the family although we had been there every day. I sat on a chair at the end of her bed and watched her sleep. Those last few days she slept a lot, she was preparing herself for the journey ahead. The day before mum died, she said to the nurse she wanted to press a button and be dead. She had fought the cruel disease for eleven years until the day she wanted to die. Minutes before mum died I prayed for her, I prayed the suffering would end and she would pass over easily. I moved a bottle of spring water that was blocking my view of her lovely face, she told me off for disturbing her. I remember thinking to myself that she never told me off, we couldn’t really do anything wrong in our mum’s eyes.

We called for a nurse as mum needed her morphine injection. It didn’t help this time, she needed something much stronger to help. When the nurse went to get it mum started to pass over. It took minutes, but time stood still, minutes turned into something much longer as we watched our mum die. We tried to help her to go without us, we told her to go and that we would be okay. We told her we loved her and thanked her for being our mum. We were trying to tell her how much we loved her, we didn’t want her to go missing anything, we didn’t want her to forget. She knew we loved her, we didn’t have to say but we both needed to, we wanted to say it for the last time. I have worried since that I was on her deaf side and maybe she couldn’t hear me.

I don’t know the actual moment mum went and if some of those last drawn out breaths were just the body doing what it had done for so long. Were the lungs just responding as they always had while the blood slowed down on its final journey around her body. I don’t even know how she died, was it the lungs or her heart that finally gave up?

I’m not sure what happened right then, my body shook uncontrollably and I couldn’t stop my arms and legs from moving. My sister wanted to help me but also wanted to stay with mum. I didn’t want to be selfish, I just couldn’t help myself. My son said afterwards it sounded like a response to the shock. I’m not sure why I was shocked, I was expecting mum to die, I had prayed for her to be out of pain but I just couldn’t cope with the reality of it actually happening. Losing the one person who had loved me from the very moment I was born.

We stayed with mum for a while, she looked beautiful, she was always beautiful. The lines and the constant daily pain faded from her face and she looked at peace at last. We knew she wasn’t really there anymore, the body was just a vehicle but how we had loved that body, we had both lived in that body for a while. I told the nurses that my sister and I would clean and dress mum, but my sister told me I wouldn’t manage it, she told me to go. I sat in the family lounge while my sister got mum’s body ready for the morgue, she called my mobile to ask what mum should wear . I remember looking up the train times on my phone while I waited.

Three weeks later now and I haven’t cried properly yet, I’m frozen. I think I have put up a wall to protect myself, as I just can’t deal with the reality of mum dying, I can’t cope with it. I understand trauma a little and know this is just my body looking after my mind but I want my mind back. No, that’s not right, I’m in denial and what I really want is my mum back.

Treasure in a coffin.

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A coffin would usually measure about 84 inches in length and be 28 inches wide so with you inside it, however slender you are, there won’t be an awful lot of room for treasure.

The word coffin derives from the old French word cofin, meaning basket or cradle. It seams funny and a little strange to me that we arrive and leave in the same vehicles. I’m wondering if it because each time we travel we are being born in one place and saying goodbye to another.

Although any box used for the dead is a coffin, the word casket is also widely used. It’s interesting that a casket was originally a box for jewelry. I think perhaps we are the jewels in this case and our value is measured by our deeds on earth.

I think what I’m getting at here, you have to stay with me, as I write to formulate my thoughts. Anyway what I’m saying is that we can’t really take anything with us, it will not stay along for the ride. We won’t wake up in the hereafter with the wealth we have amassed on earth any more than a baby is born with a healthy bank account and pots of gold.

So why do we spend our lives building our individual empires, with dreams of wealth being some of the most prominent. Why do we pray for a lottery win over health and happiness and why do we find it so hard to let go of material possessions when there will come a day we have no other option.

I’m as guilty as the rest, I’m a magpie, and I like beautiful things around me. I like things to shine, I polish taps and shine sinks. I bought my car as the tan leather seats went with my handbags. I weigh more on the bathroom scales than I actually should, because of the silver jewelry I never take off. I’m working on this and I will continue working, as I know the treasures we have on earth are nothing more than fool’s gold.

If we could only see each other by looking at the beauty of each individual soul without the material possessions or lack of possessions. I think we would see a completely different picture. We would truly see each other for who we really are by what we give out and not be swayed by falseness. I wonder what colours I give out, I hope they say something good about me.

Lately I have being seeing the natural beauty in nature, the flowers and the colours, the sounds and the smells. This is new for me, I’m a town girl and always busy and on the go. I’m giving myself more time now, I have slowed down, I’m watching and waiting.

I am wealthy in friends and loved ones, I have beautiful people around me but I won’t be taking them with me, nor would they want to come. I know I will die with the people I love around me but that will be as far as they go. I travel alone and the only treasure I want with me is the love of those I hold dear. I know with all certainty that the only treasures I will count as I leave this place are the people I love.

I’m thinking about this today and I’m going to keep thinking about it because I don’t want to forget. The wealth I have now and any wealth I have in the future will be measured in any kindness and love I’m able to give out. The treasure I will take with me will be those memories and achievements. I think they will fit as they will be sewn into my spirit and travel with me.

What will you fit in your coffin with you when they carry you out of this lifetime?

When life goes wrong

lizaaitken

When you take a hit and life goes the wrong way, it is very easy to blame the universe. I mean you can’t possibly blame yourself can you, that would be daft, it is obviously down to someone or something you have absolutely no control over, it’s not your fault.

I’m not talking about every day occurrences, your numbers not coming in on the lottery, your holiday company closing down with your money or your laptop crashing. I’m talking about the big hits, like losing your home and having absolutely no idea what you will do next, how you will survive. A life-changing event any way that knocks you off you feet at a point in life you were simply not expecting it.

These things happen every minute of every day to millions of people and yet when they happen to us they are catastrophic. Why, because it happened to ‘me’ and it is not fair. What have I done to deserve this we ask, friends ask the same and show pity, although from a distance on occasion, as a run of bad luck can be catching.

When I look back on my life, I’m 50 by the way. None of the awful things that happened along the way are awful today. They all led me to where I am now and until this recent bit of bad luck, life was pretty okay. In fact, if some of those at the time awful things, hadn’t happened, life might be pretty awful.

When I think back to painful experiences, does it still hurt? Although I can remember how I felt at those times and appreciate the pain I experienced, it doesn’t hurt any more. I’m pretty much all healed, and I think for the majority of the time, better off for the experience.

We trundle along in life, not noticing what is going on a lot of the time until we get knocked off our feet. Bang, bloody big reality shock, life as we know it has crumbled into tiny pieces, so small they won’t fit back together. This is how the universe wakes us up, lets us know we were nodding off and getting boring. These alarm calls are set to stimulate us, alert us to every tiny detail of our existence.

Have you ever noticed at times like this how sharp everything looks, how sound echoes and feelings intensify? Enter your true friends and out and good riddance to those hangers on. Although we don’t know it at the time these are the best of days, these are the start of our next chapters and we only have to turn the page to get there.

I have had a bit of a hit recently but this time I have surprised myself. I’m excited by it, I’m eager and full of anticipation for where I’m going this time. The universe hasn’t let me down so far, as much as things might have seemed bleak at the times, the universe had a better view, the long view, and I put myself at its mercy.