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A beautiful song, always reminds me of my mm.

Susan x

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Spirit of Christmas

image from http://www.josephinewall.co.uk “Snow Flake” #spirit of Christmas

“Christmas, when observed with the right spirit, still has the power to call miracles from Heaven to Earth.”
Richelle E. Goodrich,   Smile Anyway

Spirit of Christmas

I’ve let myself down this year. More than this I’ve let everyone else down. I lost the spirit of Christmas.  After meditating for a long time to gain some perspective, some equanimity to look at everything I’ve made some remarkable discoveries.

  • As well as an existing back/neck problem which has seen me ‘confined’ for long periods I finally discovered:
  • I have Lyme disease and a host of companion diseases to confront.
  • From being “flat on my back” from the injury now I’m “flat on my back” from the medication, most of the time
  • I have been challenged to re-define my approach to the spirit of Christmas
Spirit of Christmas

image from caixinhadepirlimpimpim.blogspot.com

I found that I had allowed my existing beliefs about who and what I am, my beliefs about “how” Christmas should be and my role in it, the very spirit of Christmas, to push me into a position where I was severely depressed because I could not meet these expectations. What was more devastating was that I allowed this to almost ruin Christmas this year.

Spirit of Christmas

image from http://www.superstock.co Remember – if you were naughty you got coal in your stocking?

I have found, with the help and support from my husband and some very dear friends that this does not have to be my reality at all. The spirit of Christmas which is so important to me is still alive within me. Whilst this may sound such a simple thing it is, in itself, incredibly profound.  Anything which alters your perception in such a manner is life changing, if you allow it to be.

I found:

  • I have pain, at times intense and unremitting pain, but it does not define me, it is not ME
  • I have some nasty bugs running my internal programs but they do not define me, they are not ME
  • The lack of support for the spirit of Christmas I have always held as a family tradition is not defined by the presence of others, they are not ME

Most importantly I have found that:

  • I am a unique spiritual being having a human existence, my spirituality is not affected by any pain I might suffer, I am ME
  • My unique spiritual  being is not the zillion bugs attacking my human body because I am ME     and
  • It is my spiritual being which creates the magic, joy and belief in the Spirit of Christmas because I am ME

Such a simple and profound statement: I am ME.

Knowing who and what you are, is something which people search for their entire life. I have not found the full scope of Who, and What I Am, but I am content that I have found the ME who is here, right now.

I have always known and accepted I was a “work in progress” since that is the purpose of my spiritual presence here. I simply forgot that changes in the lives around me, which affected my own life, did not change my purpose. I had to learn how to adapt to those changes, to learn something new perhaps, but I retained the essence of who I am. I can retain the spirit of Christmas within me.

I am so grateful that this incredible appreciation has arrived now.  I have been struggling with my meditation but today I found it was there all along.  I have welcomed it back with so much happiness that it feels as though a great light has been re-lit and a beacon now shines in the place of the darkness the depression had enveloped me in.

Spirit of Christmas
“Beacon of Light” walking into sunshine  Spirit of Christmas
  • I am celebrating Christmas Day with my husband, our first alone together and it is going to be uniquely special because we are together.
  • I am celebrating Boxing Day with my son and his girlfriend, a first, which is another uniquely special occasion.
  • I will see my daughter when I can before New Year’s Eve, and I am grateful I can see her then. Whilst she cannot be here “at Christmas” she is here in spirit, in my heart, which is all I need at the moment.
  • Most importantly, my parents, Mum and Dad, will be here in spirit. I miss them more each year but I now know, beyond any doubt, that they will be with me as I sit at my dinner table with my husband eating our Christmas dinner.
  • In all of these and many more the spirit of Christmas I rejoice in is alive and well within me.

It may be the first time I have been ‘alone’ on Christmas Day but it will also be the first time that I have been able to put aside the crushing loneliness their absence brought – even if it is just a little. It makes it a little easier not to have my family physically with me at Christmas when I have always believed that family and the spirit of Christmas were synonymous with each other. I have no idea when or why that changed but since it has and I cannot turn back the clock, I have to “move with the times”.

As the saying goes, “life goes on”, and it does, whether we will it so or not. Whether it hurts or not, life always goes on. It is a spiritual lesson our human selves must accept. When we do, life isn’t as bad, even if just by a little.

Whilst my family may be moving in other directions, as their lives change, then so has mine. Now I have a wonderful and loving husband who spoils me, not just on Christmas Day but every day. As our love grows it encompasses all the changes which occur.  Our spirit of Christmas is alive and growing each year.

Spirit of Christmas

image from twu.ca

When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things – not the great occasions – give off the greatest glow of happiness.”
Bob Hope

When so much seemed to have been taken away I looked and saw that I have so much to be grateful for, a family who are strong and capable individuals, who care enough to want to be around, and a husband whose love will wrap me round and always keep me safe and warm.

The Spirit of Christmas – what a wonderful thing to be grateful for,  I know I am. I hope you are too!

Blessings for a wonderful Christmas with the Spirit of Christmas alive in your own hearts.

Merry Christmas,  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson, 2013

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Christmas Calling

image from
josephine-wall-fantasy-paintings.co.uk

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ”
― Norman Vincent Peale

~

“I know what I really want for Christmas.
I want my childhood back.
Nobody is going to give me that. I might give at least the memory of it to myself if I try. I know it doesn’t make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of or hearts for something wonderful to happen. A child who is impractical, unrealistic, simpleminded and terribly vulnerable to joy.”
― Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

~

The Christmas of times past seems to have vanished like the snow from my door. Snow is never likely to fall in front of my door again, but it really has only a small part to play in the changes in Christmas. I would that I could offer everyone the intense joy and happiness I knew with each and every Christmas. The fact that it has changed for me is a matter of great dismay. The fact that it has changed for so many others is daunting.

As a child I knew so much happiness and excitement as Christmas drew close. It wasn’t for the fact that the stores were filled with toys and lollies and Christmas decorations. It was for the joy and wonder my parents and grandparents created each day leading up to Christmas day. I was fortunate that the shops didn’t put out the decorations, cards and toys until much closer to Christmas. The unique ‘specialness’ of Christmas had not been inundated with the bombardment of the commercialism of Christmas. It yet held that special air of magic. The pleasure of a nativity calendar!

I remember one year, being so convinced that my parents had to be helping Santa by hiding our gifts somewhere at home. After all he couldn’t really get them all round the world to every boy and girl on Christmas Eve, could he? I searched the house from top to bottom (I was very excited). I found nothing of course. My parents knew me well – they had hidden everything at my Nanny’s since she lived next door. It was a thrilling time none the less.

I remember when I was old enough to start sending Christmas cards to my friends. It was a sign, an indication that I was getting older and able to understand the real meaning behind Christmas. It meant, to me at least, that Christmas was a time for family, and for friends, and more than that for everyone I met. It was a time to share happiness, even if it was only a smile or a card.

Christmas Calling

image from theearthconstitution.org

I remember when my children were born and the excitement I felt when I gave them cards and gifts. I remember the fun we had as we made up Christmas hampers for the Salvos and for the RSPCA.  I remember with a sigh, when they too became old enough to want to give their friends Christmas cards.  Yet, in what feels like a few short years later the world itself has changed. Somehow, Christmas has lost some of its magic and sparkle and we are the poorer for it.

People  no longer want to send cards, if you are very fortunate you might get an e card. I haven’t yet found a way to hang it up though. What does that card mean? To me it meant that I cared about the person I was sending it to; I was thinking about them even if I couldn’t see or speak with them on Christmas day – or perhaps over the few days of Christmas. So a card, especially when money was tight, was a true gift of the heart to say…I miss you and I wish you all the best and that you were here. We made cards which held a stronger magic of love.

The other day I heard someone refer to themselves as an orphan and having an ‘Orphan Christmas’ because their parents had divorced. I felt so saddened by that. I thought of all the children who have never had parents, are living on the streets, or whose parents have passed away and therefore cannot have any part of the physical Christmas with them. I understand, I think, what they meant, but I couldn’t stop the tears forming, as I thought of the fact that my parents were no longer here, my brothers not speaking with me and my children unable to visit this year. I was selfish, I know, but the words hit like a barb bringing all the other barbs to play.

What hit the hardest was knowing that this move from giving Christmas cards means that I don’t even have the joy of a card to say – Yes, they are thinking of me. There is a part of them here too. Of course, they are in my heart, but I have to wonder why people are so reluctant to spend a few dollars sending a card.  What has happened to the feeling and magic of Christmas?

Oh, I know, its expensive sending cards today, and if you are giving someone a gift why spend a few extra dollars on a card? Better yet, why send a card when the postage costs more than the card? Perhaps it’s the thought, why send a card at all, we don’t see or hear from them most of the year? Somehow this just sounds like excuses or miserly thinking. (To me). The Christmas Spirit seems to be vanishing, or has the Christmas Grinch caught up with most people?

I am often heard wishing for snow at Christmas, the feel of the crisp air and the crunch of snow underfoot. The robins and tinsel, mistletoe and fairy lights. My mother’s fantastic Christmas tree decorated, which eclipse mine to this day, I can never see again, except in my memory. The paper decorations we all made as children – do you remember the strips of coloured paper, we glued one end to make a circle, then added more? Paper chains, we had a houseful one year. 🙂  I have beautiful cross stitch ornaments and sequin balls made at school by my children. Yet there is a hollow feeling in my heart. The Christmas magic is being stolen.

If I was allowed only one Christmas wish I would give it to –  all of you. I would wish you; a Christmas filled with joy and magic, the excitement of family or friends, or someone who cared, to make your Christmas special. If I could I would make sure that everyone received at least one Christmas card, with wishes for a safe and happy Christmas, filled with love and that you would all return safe and sound in the New Year.  

~

Wherever you are, my wish is that you receive the joy and magic from my heart to yours. That you feel the love and happiness of Christmas, of time shared however briefly together.

~

This, is my Christmas Calling to You.

~

Blessings, Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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I looked with eyes of wonder

Wide with delight and awe

At all the new discoveries I made

With the start of each new dawn

Love and light surrounded me

Kept me safe and warm by turns

I learnt the ways of life and love

Through my parents eyes, hearts and hands

A childhood filled with glee and wonder

I’d live through it all once again.

As time slipped by my eyes grew round

With amazement, glee, then shock and horror

As life in all its intricacies

Bright Eyes

image from angiesdiary.com

Was laid bare before my feet

The chaos, hurt and cruelty

A police woman’s eyes must see

Yet love remained in sheltered places

In the eyes of sweet-smelling babes

Whose lives I cherished and nurtured

Through their own discovering years

Time slips by so swiftly

And eyes see more and more

Love sometimes leaves more scars behind

Than joy and laughter have been made.

Eyes grow wearied and tired

As pain and loneliness soar

And parents whose place is untarnished

Bright Eyes

Mum and Dad

Leave holes in your life as they go

Loneliness settles deep,

In heart and bone and soul

A bystander you find you’ve become

As your children take up adults reins

Then, without thought or warning

A miracle arrives beside you

In a pair of bright, loving hazel eyes

A life once thought lost and desiccated

Now blooms anew like youth

As loves great power enfolds them

And their garden, their life, flowers anew.

Bright Eyes

Beautiful Butterfly

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
From an Irish headstone”    Richard Puz

 

.

Traveling to Mum’s house that night felt surreal. I felt as though I was wandering through my own personal nightmare. I drove along and had no real recollection of where I was going or what I was doing, it felt as though I was on auto pilot. What would have happened if anything unexpected occurred I have no idea. I suppose I should thank my angels and Dad that it didn’t. I could sense him from time to time but I knew he would be with Mum.

Going through the front door was indescribable. Yet another part of the nightmare, never ending. There was this horrible feeling of disconnect. Nothing felt real. I felt like an interloper and I seriously wanted to leave. For the first time I can remember I felt lost, adrift on some strange ocean with no bearings to guide me. Yet I was expected to be the same person I had always been, capable, competent, organised – for everyone else. It felt as though any feelings I had didn’t exist for anyone else. Their tears poured but I felt I couldn’t, or shouldn’t. When I was told I was a co executor of Mum’s estate I cringed inside. The other was my brother.

Every ‘rule’ of executor ship was flouted and trying to say anything I was over ruled on the pretext that he was so upset because Mum had passed away. Oh – wasn’t she my mother too? I was over ruled and out voted. Meetings held without me regarding Mums prized possessions (sentimental), before her hospitalisation had seen me ‘disenfranchised’. My children were simply excluded, and I had the feeling it was because they were the only grandchildren. I was being torn apart piecemeal, no one to turn to and I was still supposed to take control of the situation, even being accused of being an “Ice Maiden”, without feelings, because they didn’t see me cry. I had a dam inside and the tears couldn’t be allowed to get past it. I didn’t want them to see it either.

image from http://www.theguardian.com     Such a vital piece of paper

The more I learned about how the Will had come to be drawn up, its contents and the meetings which took place without me, the more I felt cut off from my family. I was lost in the darkness and there was no way out.  Once the funeral was over, the wrangling with finalising the estate began. Months of arrangements and meetings, and more and more blackouts as I traveled to ‘Mum’s’ house started to widen the cracks. When I was finally told, after I organised the estate tax return, that it would be another 12 months until it could be finalised I reached “the point of no return”.  Denied Mum’s mementos, denied access to the house proper to see her things, despite everything I had tried to do and I had reached the time to say, “Enough!”

I needed time. I needed space. I needed to find out who I was again. I had been mother, daughter, sister, wife for so long that I was unsure who I was. I booked a 12 week trip to the Middle East and Switzerland, had a long talk with my children and left to find myself. My children understood and were old enough and cared enough to wish me well, however. I didn’t leave a happy camp behind. I don’t believe my brothers really understood how fragile I had become.  I tidied up everything with the solicitor so nothing would need attending to in my absence and left.

Perhaps it was prophetic that I went to the airport alone and had no one to see me off. My very first overseas trip, the only trip I had ever taken alone in my life and there was no one there to say goodbye. As the plane rose into the air I felt an enormous weight suddenly detach from me and I felt lighter than I had for so long. I had a long way to go but I had made a start.

image from http://www.travelhouseuk.co.uk           Fly away little bird.

There was a strange feeling as I walked into the Singapore airlines lounge, which felt something like, “So this is what ‘they’ were talking about. There was a feeling of freedom, of being looked after, and after the previous couple of decades it was almost unbelievable. The people there were so friendly and helpful, and despite the fact that it was their job, they made me feel as though I was special, something truly unusual for me.

The long haul trip to Singapore tested out my back despite being in Business class, a luxury I had decided on simply because of the injuries to my back. Unfortunately we arrived at 11pm so apart from a walk, a very long walk to the Singapore airlines lounge there were very few shops open.  Yet the two hour wait for my connecting flight to Athens was still full of surprises.  I had rarely seen so much food available outside a restaurant and staff who were only too happy to help. The shower facilities were a blessing and it felt really good to refresh myself after sitting on the plane for so long.

image from http://www.airreview.com             Business Lounge in Singapore

Back on board again it seemed only a short time before we were landing in Athens. I had been too excited to sleep much so the on-board films were a good distraction. I was collected at the airport – Yes, I had someone standing in arrivals with my name on a piece of cardboard! Whisked through the airport, the Greeter insisted on handling my entire luggage (I over packed) and I was in a taxi and speeding into Athens.

The driver, whose name I never did get, zipped in and out of traffic like a bee hopping from flower to flower. The nonstop information was brilliant, but I could only take part of it in. The sights and sounds were amazing. Once we reached Athens the traffic was phenomenal. So many vehicles all going flat out, horns honking, drivers waving their arms at each other and the roads – they seemed so small! It was a thrill a minute.

View of the Acropolis from outside the hotel

View of the Acropolis from outside the hotel

The hotel was an oasis of peace and calm from the bustle outside and once I was in my beautiful suite I suddenly felt exhausted. Tired or not I had to explore since I was only there for a couple of days on the way to Israel, my ‘final’ destination. I’m sure the Major D was surprised when I hurried through the doors so soon, asking for directions. I walked for hours before finally stumbling back to the hotel where I declared it exhaustion treat time and ordered room service.

One beautiful hot bath later my meal arrived and I settled down to find an English speaking news channel so I could find out if the Middle East was still peaceful.  The lure of the soft and gigantic bed was too much and I slept until breakfast the next morning.  A full breakfast was on offer but I didn’t want to waste time so off I went sightseeing and gathering all the brochures I could for my return trip.

image from news.gtp.gr     Athens Airport

 Picked up bright and early the next morning, (They even got the staff up early so I could have breakfast before I left) and I was whisked out to catch the El Al Plane into Israel. That was where the fun really began.

Next week – Learning to breathe again

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

Recollections of that Christmas are strange, some vague and others thrown into stark relief. At times I felt alone in a darkness so profound I wondered if I would ever emerge again. I can remember desperately wanting to make it as happy and carefree as possible, easy and light, a remembrance of all the beautiful Christmas’ we had spent together. Above all it had to be as far removed from the reality of the situation as possible.  Despite the strain in Mum’s face, she was happy. Her family were around her and the love was overflowing. It was all I could have asked for. I was grateful my prayers were answered.

As though Christmas had never occurred it was back to ‘normal’ as soon as the New Year came around.  Hubby had spent plenty of time fuming over my response and as a result I wasn’t too surprised when, early in the new year, he advised me he wasn’t interested in trying to make a go of things, he wanted a divorce. It was a bad move on his part. I had a strong feeling that I should move and quickly. I haven’t felt such an urging before so I did exactly as he asked. As soon as the courts opened for business in the new year I went in, filled out the paperwork and less than three months later it was all over. He got his divorce finalised (the decree nisi) on his birthday. It wasn’t planned that way by me, but I have a feeling Spirit, and of course Dad had a lot to do with the speed of things. I had more important things on my mind. The darkness was drawing in. I also decided to change my name – I needed to sever the ties to him completely.

In early March Mum was rushed back into hospital and we, at least I, had been told that she wouldn’t be going home again. She hated the hospital and couldn’t rest. I was called earlier each day because she was calling for me, so I was there from 5am or earlier until 7pm when my brothers arrived for their hour-long visit! All day I made sure she received her morphine shots to ease the pain.  When they wore off during the night she was too ‘out of it’ to ask for more. My brothers thought she was doing okay because they only saw her after a day with regular pain shots. She was alert and pain free for their short visit. They refused to accept how dire the situation was. Several falls from bed and very nasty injuries and the hospital talked hospice. Mum was terrified since, even in her muddled state, she was aware what it meant. She wouldn’t be going home. It was prophetic that she had always said she would die in a hospital and that had made her more concerned about hospital visits during her life.

image from blog.iloveqatar.net

I was taking some enormous risks. I wasn’t sleeping, hardly eating and began having strange ‘black outs’ as I was driving to the hospital. At 120km/hr it was scary, and yes I was exceeding the speed limit.  They had begun when she was at home but I wasn’t going to say anything. She needed me with her. I was the one who bathed her and changed her clothes, helped her into and out of bed. I held her hand and prayed as I sent Reiki into her frail body. I think by then I had stopped thinking about anything else. I had to be there.

The day I was informed she was being transferred to the hospice was horrendous. I had been there again since 4am after she had fallen from bed and had seriously hurt her arm. It was heart wrenching to see the nurses try to dress the wounds, finally admitting when they couldn’t remove the dressings that it didn’t matter if they were changed.  My universe was collapsing.

The day was a nightmare.  The ambulance transfer was a trip from hell. Once we reached the hospice I helped get Mum changed and into her new bed. She curled up and “went to sleep.” I continued to give her Reiki until my brothers began to arrive.  They arrived around 7pm. After a half an hour they decided to leave since Mum was obviously “asleep”. My gut told me to stay. My car was back at the other hospital. Despite knowing I shouldn’t leave I allowed myself to be persuaded to go to my car and go home. Something inside screamed at me to stay, but out numbered and feeling cornered I felt I had no choice. I was so wrong and I can never forget that.

I debated, for the longest time, about going back to her, but I hadn’t seen my children and I was feeling drained. I arrived home as the phone began ringing. My mother had passed away ten minutes after I left her. I don’t remember the drive back, only coming back to myself when I arrived at the hospice as saw my brother there. I was angry. He had arrived first and had decided to sign all the paperwork. He didn’t want to stay at all. He didn’t want me to stay either, but he did want me to go back to Mum’s house with him  (where he was living) to talk about what ‘we’ had to do. A new nightmare was about to begin, one which would threaten to drown me.

image from bleeding_eye_by_flauschvampire91

image from bleeding_eye_by_flauschvampire91

That walk through Mum’s front door felt like a knife wrenching through my heart. Inside my head a scream reverberated. I wanted out! I wanted a little space to think! I needed to find something to hold onto! I was adrift in uncharted waters and I was drowning already. Somehow, some way, I had to find how to keep going and stay sane. I felt I was faced with a stacked deck, just how much that was true was to come to light soon enough.

.

Next week – A New Nightmare Begins.

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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in flow, the relationship between what a person had to do and what he could do was perfect. The challenge wasn’t too easy.
Nor was it too difficult. It was a notch or two beyond his current abilities, which stretched the body and mind in a way that made the effort itself
the most delicious reward. That balance produced a degree of focus and satisfaction that easily surpassed other, more quotidian,
experiences. In flow, people lived so deeply in the moment, and felt so utterly in control, that their sense of time, place, and even self melted
away. They were autonomous, of course. But more than that, they were engaged.”
― Daniel H. Pink

I had a plan. Just a simple plan. I only had one important outside event to undertake today and I felt I had plenty of time to sit down and write.  I even had a reasonably good story line worked out – not off the cuff for a change. Halloween only comes once a year.

Yet life is about being “In the Moment”, being able to adapt to what occurs and still make it valuable and fulfilling. It is also “Being Mindful”.  It sounds so trite at times and yet it is profound. If we get it right then life flows and everything is easy, there are no hard parts to butt up against. At least if we do we are able to handle them with ease and grace and life simply is.

I had an energy healing yesterday which is far too involved to go into tonight. It’s late and it has been a big day. I know it’s been a big day because of the healing… I simply know this and I’m not going to try to downplay it.

I had a simple EEG scheduled just after lunch.  I was so filled with all the information from my healing that I think I lost focus on getting into a sleep ritual, something I must do. I haven’t slept now for four nights and I’m a little unglued, as one does become without good sleep.

My dearly loved and irreverent hubby decided it would be hilarious to photograph me at the worst possible moment.  The Sputnik like photographs have been confiscated and consigned into the ‘never to be revealed to the light of day’ locked casket and I have the only key. The penalty has yet to be decided upon and the delivery will have to be totally unexpected.

I am pleased to say I did NOT look like this…  this is more a Young Einstein copycat, but not me.

However, I had a head full of blobs of sticky goo which would not come out. Painfully teasing the lumps from my hair was unpleasant, seeing my hair looking like I had already had a Halloween fright was not part of the plan. I had shops to visit… an outing planned to change the tempo of my days.

A quick shower later and my hair looking reasonable after a quick shampoo, I at lest looked part of the human race again. However, something happened on the way to the receptionist. My body didn’t want to follow orders.  I’d had a torrid time during the part of the EEG when the lights were flashing, flickering strobe like  and generally trying to bore through my frontal lobe. Most disagreeable.

Back at the car I focused on my beautiful latte to come, sure to pick me up again. However, the walk to the coffee shop was painfully slow and painful! All the ‘comfy’ seats were taken – one booth by what I can only assume were a pair of madams discussing their girls. You didn’t need to eavesdrop, their conversation was loud enough to broadcast over the centre. Educational – no, irritating – oh yes!

“We let ourselves loose on that simple blank piece of paper, and our bodies spill. The terror, the love…embodying our stories page after page. In a sense, the pen was our tongue, it is how we delineate the world.”
Coco J. Ginger

The Pen Shoppe, a delight, a torment, a veritable smorgasbord of beautiful objects for me to drool over. Yes, I’m a stationery collector and beautiful pens tops the list – although the list is quite large. Fortunately my husband also loves all things stationery… cool isn’t it!

Yet I wasn’t getting my subtle charge from my favourite surroundings. After a short visit we popped next door to my yummy delicious and resistance destroying, Crystal Shop.

The Crystal Cafe... too good to pass up

The Crystal Cafe… too good to pass up

The energies in here have always perked me up but today I was dragging myself around. If I could have found a geode large enough I think I would have crawled inside.  After a really short visit for me we left and decided to come home. Once back I faded into semi oblivion for two hours. I still feel slightly disconnected so I’m closing with well wishes for Halloween and I’ll catch up tomorrow, after all, memories last forever.

“Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen, Voices whisper in the trees, Tonight is Halloween!”

– Dexter Kozen

Blessings, Susan xx

© Susan Jamieson 2-13

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

I was waiting for the imminent disaster to fall on me, or us, not quite knowing what it was and thus unable to prepare myself for it. I suspected what it was, prayed it wasn’t and waited.

Time passed and things limped along, until the day arrived when Mum had to be admitted to hospital.  I can’t even begin to say why I knew this was different. The energies around Mum seemed thick and Dad’s presence was so strong. As she always had done in the past she rallied and the hospital were almost ready to let her come home – but only after we had made an appointment to see the doctors!

image from www.the guardian.com

image from http://www.the guardian.com

It really didn’t take Einstein to work out what was going to happen. We were told very simply that Mum had finally reached the terminal stage and that because of her condition she could only go home if they (the hospital) could be assured that she would have someone with her 24 hours a day. In less than a heartbeat I discounted my business, it wasn’t important, and told them I could look after her during the days. My brother, who hated living alone and had moved home before Dad died would be there in the evenings and nights. Even though he was at home, they looked to me to settle the matter.  It was my responsibility and I told them we could manage it. I was the eldest, it was what I did.

It goes almost without saying that my children were right behind me, it was their Grandma after all. It hurt to have to tell them the bad news, but I think we were all expecting it one day, we had simply hoped it wouldn’t be soon. I say soon, we had been prepared for years but when the time arrives it is always too soon. . I thought my hubby was also “on board”. They had gotten along well in the past and being embarrassed that things weren’t great at home I hadn’t talked to Mum about it. Since I was basically supporting him, and had been all along I really didn’t expect any hassles.

Is it ironic that I truly enjoyed the months I spent alone with Mum each day? When I could see how things were and had been happening every day, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done something to correct it. I didn’t like how Mum had been looked after as she became more fail. I didn’t like the fact that I was so preoccupied with my woes that I hadn’t seen what was happening when I visited. I hadn’t visited enough! So, without telling my brother I started spoiling her. I bought her things which would tempt her to eat, treats to make her smile, little gifts she wanted but he disapproved of. What he didn’t know wasn’t going to cause a problem and I wasn’t seeking a pat on the back for loving my mother.

If I could have given her my lungs for her to breathe instead of the horrible asthma attacks compounded with the emphysema – I would have. I couldn’t do any of those things. I could send her healing to ease things, so my Reiki training was very useful. I could help her through the attacks but I couldn’t stop them and I knew time was running out. She loved watching that crazy soap, “Days of Our Lives” and each time I saw that hourglass and heard the theme…..”like sands through the hourglass” I had to bite my lip to stop tears.  I bathed her and washed her hair, bought new nighties to brighten her days and a lead light lamp which caused a furor.

I didn’t broadcast what I considered small things to help her through the dark days. I loved her and it was irrelevant that I tell anyone what ‘a wonderful daughter I was’. It’s strange how people perceive things later.

We talked a lot about “afterwards” and I explained to her all I knew and believed. Dad’s scent was so strong in the house and she admitted she could feel him. She was frightened that there may not be anything afterwards, and I fear it was one of the reasons she clung on for so long, but our talk brought some measure of comfort and I could feel her accept that there may be more for her than she had feared.

A month before Christmas I arrived home after a difficult day of asthma attacks to be welcomed by this statement. Hubby, “This isn’t working out. I’ll be moving out on Friday. I’ll take my things when I’ve worked out where I’m going.”  For one second I was dumbfounded and then I blazed like a volcano erupting. I know my voice was like ice, as though I had killed something inside.

I remember saying, “Don’t think about waiting until then. I’m not leaving you in my house alone until Friday. Pack your bags and get out now. You can call to talk about the rest on Saturday. Now – GO!”

With a frosty glare he opened his mouth and I said, “Don’t think about it, If you don’t leave now my son will put you out.” (My son is a big man and was capable of doing just that, in fact he would have loved it. Which shows the level of discontent still in the house).

image from footage.shutterstock.com –

He left, I had too much on my mind at that time to worry about it. I was advised by my insurance company that if I wanted to be covered in the event of ‘things’ being missed later, I had to have the locks changed. He came back when the locksmith was changing the locks. Such was the animosity in hubby’s face that he, the locksmith, was reluctant to leave. Truthfully, I think I would have welcomed him trying anything. It would have been a distraction. I was becoming numb and anything would have been a welcome distraction.

But, the end was fast approaching.

Losing myself.

Losing myself.

Each day I felt I was losing myself. I had no one to talk to, I had to remain strong for everyone and yet I felt the cracks widening more and more.

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Next week – Losing my way

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

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I was still smarting from the way my last friend and psychic exited my life when I started working with Cherylane. It was to be a new beginning. She was a completely different person to Anya  in every way possible.  I was determined this time to find out if the person I was going to work for and with was ethical in their work, so I ventured out to where she regularly did shows and sat in the audience. She had never met me in person, we had only spoke on the phone, so it would be an interesting evening.

What was interesting was the unexpected message I received. There was absolutely no denying it was for me, nor who it was from, and no way she could have possibly known of the connection. It was a message from my ex husband’s father so it was as much a shock as surprise.

After the demonstration closed I waited behind to say hello to her, both of us laughing at the message since she had no idea I would be there. It seemed an auspicious start.  It certainly made her ability credible, but gave no clue as to the storm I was about to be engulfed in.

Due to my loyalty in staying with Anya, Cherylane had employed a part-time office helper, Robyn, to assist her with appointment bookings. I was to take over her role and travel with Cherylane when she went on the road to do her shows. This was the first lesson that I should have heeded.  Robyn was a former client. Cherylane had complained bitterly at her lack of commitment since she had a small child and was often missing or unavailable.  She said she was eager to let her go so I could start and get everything shipshape.  Unfortunately Cherylane then decided she couldn’t let Robyn go because she felt sorry for her due to the circumstances under which they had met. (A small hint).

I could understand her feelings but when her work was affected Cherylane was not very polite about airing her grievances, at least not to me. Still, Robyn’s hours were increased, mine cut to cover the away trips only and since I had already signed an agreement with her I was stymied. Truthfully, I was keen to work with a genuine psychic, so I was willing to give the arrangement a trial, especially when she indicated that if Robyn didn’t pick up the pace she was definitely going. Plus, she also said she would ‘teach me’ as we traveled.

The first trip arrived, traveling from Brisbane to Sydney and all parts in between. I was told to pack lightly because we had to take all the ‘show’ materials. A little nonplussed I none the less complied. She collected me from home as I was on the way to the airport and I found out why I needed to pack light. She had hundreds if not thousands of brochures, flyers, business cards and books! She had self published her first book and it was going to be part of my job to sell them at each venue.  So, a smallish suitcase for me and Cherylane and two enormous bags stuffed to the seams with books. Heavy books! Overweight baggage!

It was not long after my accident and I had made sure she had been aware of the lingering back problems but apparently it didn’t factor into her plans. I had to haul one of these gargantuan monstrosities along with my bag. Timetables arranged by Robyn had us sprinting between connecting flights, different airlines so the luggage had to be grabbed and hauled to the new departure point. Not happy – not at all.  I was ready to cry as my shoulders felt they were being dislocated every time we pulled the bags along.

At each venue it was my responsibility to co-ordinate with venue staff to get the room arranged correctly, microphone and speakers set up, chairs, a room for her to ‘prepare herself’ beforehand, and escape afterwards, set up my table outside and have all the ‘materials’ ready. She wasn’t keen on separate rooms at the motels due to the cost, but circumstances changed this later.

By the time we arrived at our first destination I was shattered. I was unsure which part of me ached the most. I went to the venue and got everything ready whilst Cherylane rested up for the evening.  However, when I finished I returned to the room and went in to have a rest myself. Oh Boy! The proverbial hit the fan. She was furious and I found out she had the vocabulary of a dock worker. Unknown to me, I was expected to walk the town until it was time to shower and get ready for the performance. Eating was a poor after thought as she now decided to tell me she was a vegetarian and couldn’t be near any meat… and she preferred not to eat before a show. Wonderful!

The show went well, book sales were good (thankfully, less to haul around), and plenty of tickets had been sold. An auspicious start I hoped. It was, until we went to bed that night. The schedule called for a unappealingly early start after the late night and for once I fell asleep reasonable quickly. Until there came the most ferocious swearing from the bedroom next to me. Cursing and swearing non stop I finally went to see if anything was wrong. There was….. the spirits from the people who would be attending tomorrows show were trying to ‘get in early’ and she couldn’t shut them up and therefore couldn’t sleep. Still, the language was ripe. (Lets not forget as a police officer I used to arrest people for using that language in front of me!) Sleep was fitful and the sudden yelling, shattering to say the least.

Hollow eyed we set off at 4.30 that morning. An early radio show (advertising) was scheduled. With no prior warning or communication, I was not to know that in the somewhat frigid early morning hours I was expected to wait outside whilst she went inside and shone.  One of the radio personnel who saw me arrive with her invited me in and got me coffee.  As a result I was introduced to the radio crew who asked me into the booth with them (Big mistake). She went over fabulously but did not like sharing the limelight, even though I didn’t speak.  When the giveaways came out, and she fessed up to never wearing makeup (which I already had on) so they gave me half a dozen goody bags. Feeling quite pleased after the awful night and early start I was dismayed to be thoroughly abused after we left. This was not turning out as I expected. Lesson number two I failed to heed.

Each day was basically the same, an early start hauling the bags, dashing to either planes or venues for advertising promotional work and then to the motel for a ‘rest’. By day 7 I was beginning to realise that this was not at all the way it had been proposed to me. As an overworked, underpaid and abused lackey it fell far short of appealing. Sleep was almost non-existent and the frigid bouts of tantrums was beyond amusing.  Yet day 8 cracked all the rest to date.

Back at the motel we were sharing I arrived to find Cherylane swearing into her mobile and bashing out something on her laptop. When she saw me I was given a frozen stare and told to collect her washing and put it in with mine in the laundry a few doors away.  Oh – and to wait until it finished because someone was sure to try to steal the clothes. Cold, tired and really miserable, it was turning out to be a trooper of a day. I did meet a really great old guy there who turned up with a hot cup of coffee and kept me company for  a while, People with hearts of gold still exist I’m grateful to say.

Another six days of this and I was wondering what I had let myself in for. In a haze of pain, sleeplessness, swearing and cursing each night, being treated like an inconvenience, I was wondering if my sanity had deserted completely.  Not quite yet…. more was to come.  Home had never looked so good.

Next week, Lessons from Spirit I couldn’t deny.

Blessings  Susan xx

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In a meadow green

Locked in beside a stream

Sunlight smiled a dappled beam

On butterflies whose colours

Made a brilliant sheen

Ringed about by stately trees

Of Beech and Oak, Rowan and Sycamore

Standing guard upon my recumbent form

As I gazed into a glittering dawn

And whiled away the mellow hours

Dreaming dreams of colourful flowers

Which grew abundantly in this glade

Of purple and red, yellow and blue

Altogether they made a rainbow like hue

Until at last the daylight dimmed

The moon arose, the treetops rimmed

In silvery light of gossamer threads

Breaking through the canopy above my head

And still it seemed I slumbered on

The voices of my Spiritual friends,

Guides and Angels, Faerie folk and Elves

My loved ones dear, they whispered here

All night they softly murmured along

Lifting my spirit with their colourful song.

Hatred and violence, horror and war

All left behind a now shuttered door

My soul replenished, my spirit recharged

I re-enter my life filled with laughter and light

Taking my sanctuary within me

Filled with rich colours and spiritual light.

image from tutorialspalace.com –

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”    ― Pierre  de Chardin

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We each find the ways and means to replenish our spirit, to find the gossamer threads which hold us to each other in this world or the next.

You are welcome to share my spiritual haven. Like minded souls are always welcome.

Blessings.  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson

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