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Archive for the ‘Identity’ Category

#NoWayOut

Time was running out quickly

There was nowhere left to run

Nowhere left to hide

No way to reach the safety of the house

Or the safe escape through the stone circle high in the mountains.

The hunter they had brought in was too good

She had been harried and hunted

From the moment she reached the forest

Running and hiding at every turn

She had almost reached the end of her strength

As she hid near the edge of town once more.

Yet the yearning drew her onwards

More strongly with each passing second

With each heart stopping howl from the mountains

Her mate, her partner, her daylight lover

Waiting, ever more frantic as the minutes slipped by

As she herself yearned to be with him again.

The moon was full and rode high in the almost clear sky

The one blessing of this pain filled night

Scenting the wind she was sure she smelled rain

As low on the horizon lightning flashed

In the afterglow she could see scudding clouds rushing in.

The hunter was closing in still

She remained frozen in place, waiting for the moment

The moment she might escape.

Cool droplets of water brought a sharp tang to her nose

So much more sensitive in her wolf form

Clouds and rain grew heavier as time passed

The loamy scent of the earth growing stronger with the rain.

Carefully she stretched each limb

Bringing the blood flowing strongly through cramped muscles

The afterimage of the lightning flash temporarily blinding her hunters

The dark clouds and heavy rain masking her scent

She took her one chance and ran

Fleeing as fast as limbs too long immobilised

Were asked to be fleet once more.

As she slipped under cover of the forest

She heard a guttural sound behind her

The hunter had been waiting, but

As luck would have it this time

He misjudged his prey.

She loped off towards the mountains

Revelling in the blood coursing through her veins

In time she would reunite with her mate

The one who would become her lover come sunrise

As they moved to yet another place

To live free for a time before being forced to leave again.

Such was their life as wolf and human

Yet they would not trade it for any other

So long as they were together.

Together they now were, reunited at last

Their happiness all that mattered

Shared as wolf, or man and woman

Love knew no bounds

In the wildness of their world.

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Alexander 2015

©Susan Jamieson 2015

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#TheOnlyChoice

It was close to dawn

The air frosty with a bite that went to the bone

She had on only a thin cotton dress

The only other had been left at home

Home, what was that but a place to sleep

Somewhere to eat and feel less than wanted

A house that was nothing more than a roof over her head

One she no longer wanted nor cared for.

She knew he would be looking for her soon

The man who was her fleshly husband

Searching quietly through each room

Anger would flare when he found her missing

This, her only chance to flee

Giving her a real choice to be

That which she really was

A noise behind her alerted her to dawn

The search for her had commenced

She could stay no longer

The dress, irrelevant in but a few more moments

The sun began its lukewarm climb over the horizon

Pale crimson and gold fingers pointed over the land

She stood tall and raised her hands to the sky

Towards the power of the winter sun

Taking a deep breath

She drew the energy of the sun into her heart

Shaking loose long auburn hair

Ready to take her part

In the distance she heard a forlorn howl

Her form writhed sinuously

Energy coalesced around her

Blurring the outlines of her human form

Once dissipated there stood a sleek wolf

Her hair a deep auburn colour

Lifting her head she howled joyously

The sound being joined by the other, closing swiftly

As they met, jumping with abandon around each other

They nuzzled each other happily

Shouts behind them from the house

Disturbed their welcome of each other

Bright sherry coloured eyes gazed knowingly

Together they loped off quickly through the forest

Her prison shattered for the last time.

#TheOnlyChoice

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2015

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#NighttimeRambles

Enter the land of possibility….. sleep

“Even a soul submerged in sleep is hard at work and helps make something of the world.”
― Heraclitus, Fragments.

Night-time, the time of dreams and restful sleep. Except it doesn’t always work out that way. So went the ramblings of a sleepy eyed and sore body this morning. Since I was awake, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to share a few moments with you. I do hope you join the perhaps somnambulant yet also clear thoughts, thick with the night’s happenings, of this person you might recognise. Since they are one and the same, and it is I, then I hope so. You may laugh, cry and ponder the imponderables from  these ramblings.

 “It was that sort of sleep in which you wake every hour and think to yourself that you have not been sleeping at all; you can remember dreams that are like reflections, daytime thinking slightly warped.”     ― Kim Stanley Robinson, Icehenge

There have been so many nights of late when sleep seems hard to hold onto. I can’t really explain why each time, and yet each time seems perfectly reasonable. I go to bed thinking of someone who is ill or having a hard time, and I spend the night in their company. I practise my Spiritual Healing and pray for their night to be easier. So many nights and so many people, friends, relatives, strangers I’ve merely heard about. I am transported on the back of a huge Powerful Owl and taken to where I am needed. Do I mind this broken sleep which leaves me exhausted and trembling? After the exhilarating rush from my magical Owl ride, well it’s time to “do my thing”.

#NighttimeRamblings

“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”   ― John Lennon

No, I never waste time considering this. I am privileged, and have always felt privileged, to be able to help in some small way, even if the person knows nothing of it. To me that is the blessing of being a healer, a Shaman, and a wielder of magic, as someone who cares about the world and all who live in it and the world itself. It is what I agreed to do when I entered this earthly coil, as a Spirit in Human form. I learn still about my place here on earth, but I work as I can, use my “magic’ and healing to aid those I am called to. Silently, and frequently with no-one the wiser that I have been involved in guarding their night’s sleep, their healing, or eased their passing. Such is as it should be, and will remain. This talk perhaps should never be, yet I have been absent so long, and this part of the reason why.

#NighttimeRambles

“Thus fortified I might take my rest in peace. But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exists and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.”
― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

 There are times when these night-time travels feel more like descents into horror as I work “my magic” attempting to bring some ease, some solace to those in pain, to the earth which shudders in agony. Mother Nature, Gaia, cries for release from the agony mankind inflicts on her.

At present there is yet another Cyclone wreaking havoc north of Australia … more people suffering, dying, their cries loud in my ears, reverberating in my heart. Who am I to turn away from these? What is a night of broken dreams, these I can easily make up later? Forgive my ignorance of geography… it has always been my downfall and yet it never stops me being taken by the hand, a Guardian Angel or my Guides and taken to where I might be helpful. I am humbled that I am able to be called and fulfil my part in this day, this night, these pain filled moments.

 #NighttimeRamblings

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist

 Yet last night was strange. Time after time I was hurled from sleep feeling that I was twisting on the end of a heavy rope, slowly choking, and my breath a whisper in my ears.

Perhaps that would have been alright but for the intense pain in my neck, as though I had, in reality and not my otherworldly dimension, been swinging from some gallows tree. Perhaps I was caught in the storm wrack wreckage, and suffocating in some other way. Morbid and difficult thoughts to lull one back to sleep. Was I in the present or the past? Does it matter at the moment? I find that once I have managed to get some real sleep I can, often with little difficulty, work out the real from the tempest tossed nightmares.

#NighttimeRambles

Even amidst the pain and suffering there are lessons to be learned. My trusting warm bundle, curled in my lap, reassured me that the day is like many others. Bella, my little love wrapped saviour, sighs contentedly as I type. Is this a simple sign that I am doing the right thing?

Dogs, indeed most animals have an almost uncanny ability to detect when something is wrong and lend their own love and support. Not just to me but to those I help. She cried piteously when my husband’s Uncle passed away recently. She now sits watch, guarding me whilst she sleeps so peacefully, yet awakens within a moment if she senses anything amiss.

#NighttimeRambles

“No matter how much you cry, the tears will dry. No matter how many nightmares, flashbacks, visions, or terrors you endure, they will pass. To weather these in order to find your true self and the happiness you deserve, that is not a risk. To waste the time you have in this body, never showing your soul to yourself or anyone else, living in fearful misery – that is really the most dangerous thing you can do.”
― Vironika Tugaleva, The Love Mindset

So I must believe that I am doing all the things I should. Healing where I may with the gifts I have been given. Quietly and unobtrusively, without fanfare or applause. Perhaps the time will come when these stories can be told. If the time arrives and t serves its purpose then share them I shall, but until then they remain the vague reasons for my absence and the increasing pull towards my bed. My wonderful bed, to catch up on the restful sleep the body needs to continue the work Spirit has asked of me and I have readily agree. I am no-one special. I am simply one more Spirit on this earth bound place who is learning how to be silently useful when I am called.

#NighttimeRambles

May your nights be restful and safe. May I be there should you need me or you call. May our journeys commence at each day break.

 

Blessings, Susan. ♥

© Susan Jamieson. 2015

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#ifnotnowwhen

If not me, who? And if not now, when?  Mikhail Gorbachev

 

 Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.   Winston Churchill  

#Ifnotnowwhen

Image courtesy of swbusiness.com.au

I’ve sat and looked at this screen, day after day and hour by hour, so unsure of what to say. It’s a frightening thing, being so unsure of what to say. I know that in what seems a lifetime ago, the words tripped over themselves trying to get onto the page. Perhaps even more frightening is being afraid that what I say is just taking up someone’s time without purpose.

OMG I thought, what if, after all this dithering around, what I write is just a waste of time. Now I realise that it isn’t. I’m writing for myself at the moment. I have to, at least until my “mojo” decides to get itself together and understands that this is what writing is all about. The courage to keep talking about what I think about – whether it’s a story or a “simple blog” – is the key to the magic.

So, for today it’s a simple blurb to say “hello”, “I’m here, not quite sure if you will hear me or not, but that’s okay. I’ve made the first step, a giant leap for me today”

#Ifnotnowwhen

Image courtesy cover_not_living_in_fear..anon

“Laugh, even when you feel too sick or too worn out or tired.
Smile, even when you’re trying not to cry and the tears are blurring your vision.
Sing, even when people stare at you and tell you your voice is crappy.
Trust, even when your heart begs you not to.
Twirl, even when your mind makes no sense of what you see.
Frolick, even when you are made fun of. Kiss, even when others are watching. Sleep, even when you’re afraid of what the dreams might bring.
Run, even when it feels like you can’t run any more.
And, always, remember, even when the memories pinch your heart. Because the pain of all your experience is what makes you the person you are now. And without your experience—you are an empty page, a blank notebook, a missing lyric. What makes you brave is your willingness to live through your terrible life and hold your head up high the next day. So don’t live life in fear. Because you are stronger now, after all the crap has happened, than you ever were back before it started.”
Alysha Speer

I’ve read some amazing blogs during my “sabbatical” which have made me hope to visit strange and wonderful places, see the wide vistas, empty ranges and places filled with flora and fauna I have never seen before. There are too many writers out there to thank for this inspiration, yet to one and all I say a heartfelt “Thank You, I will visit these places, not just in my mind from your words and photos, but in person, to feel and experience these people and places”.

I’ve read about your battles with your demons, whatever they are. I’ve felt the strength you’ve shown in writing about it. I’ve felt my struggles are pitiful when aligned next to yours – and in the end I know that I have to put that aside too. We all have a right to our struggles, our physical demons. We can allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by them. We can use the pathos of our situation to keep calling people back, or we can simply say, “Hey, this happened and it can happen to you, so keep going and after you’ve told me about it, leave it and keep going.” Our stories are important – to us, and sometimes to others, so if we are unsure, write for yourselves. Write your hearts blood on the page, your fear, shout out and tell the world, because it’s the silence which is deadly. It’s that simple thing, the silence we strive for at other times which is often holding us back.

The silence of emptiness.

#Ifnotnowwhwen

Image courtesy of maxresdefault

 

“All that is left to bring you pain, are the memories. If you face those, you’ll be free. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from yourself; always afraid that your memories will incapacitate you, and they will if you continue to bury them.”
J.D. Stroube, Caged in Darkness

This caught my attention and I thought, Wow, that’s exactly what I was thinking. So I know that I’m not alone.

I’m simply human – I fell off the bandwagon in truth… not once but several times. I have the bruises and scars to show for it! Today was just one more day in the struggle to “be”. It’s boring in its simplicity, my damned back is being a pain in ways I never believed possible. Simplicity itself – I leaned on something which moved when I thought it would stay where it was. I fell… right on top of new bruises from the day before and pain flared majestically through the synapses of my brain once more. I should be used to it, but the odd thing is, you never become blasé about pain. Ask any of the people out there with Fibromyalgia…. I have it and it doesn’t take a holiday, it just decides to let you think it might be going away… til it returns once more.

I realised I said it “majestically flared through new synapses of the brain” and I realise it is that and so much more. Colours you never imagined fire through your vision and logical speech and thought are devoured in an instant.

#Ifnotnowwhen

Courtesy of wildlyfreewoman.net

“I have always been afraid… Always been pretending to follow you closely, always been pretending to sharpen my teeth, when the truth is, I am … scared to death just treading on your shadow.”
Tite Kubo

 

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson 2015

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“Before you can live a part of you has to die. You have to let go of what could have been, how you should have acted and what you wish you would have said differently. You have to accept that you can’t change the past experiences, opinions of others at that moment in time or outcomes from their choices or yours. When you finally recognize that truth then you will understand the true meaning of forgiveness of yourself and others. From this point you will finally be free.”
Shannon L. Alder

 

It shouldn’t surprise me any longer, yet it still can. We live in a society where, by and large, everyone is slotted into a stereotype. If we don’t fit into a recognized stereotype, or worse still, refuse to fit into these groups, then we find ourselves outside society.

Once upon a time, in the dim and distant past, and now found only in books, the term used to be called, “Being sent to Coventry”. It was horrendous. Not being accepted by your fellow peers, being non-conformist, can be a lonely existence.

Until, that is, you realise that it isn’t a detrimental thing not belonging to the mass of “sheeple” as someone I know once referred to the mass of followers of the accepted trends. (Following along like sheep).

It seems that being different, an individual, even if you yourself are unaware that you are an individual, can be confronting to others. It can make you feel that there is something not right with who you are, even if you are not seeking to ask anyone to walk your truth. They can be confronted by what they see in you.

They can also be more than a little uncomfortable at seeing you as a mirror, shining back to them the insecurities they are hiding from, and unable to accept. If this happens they are more than likely to ‘attack’ you, indirectly of course. Direct confrontation, even to discuss, in an adult fashion, the differences they see between you and them, is foreign. In order to make themselves feel “righteous” they must try to convince others that you are the one at fault, doing something wrong.

Yes, you are simply being you, but that is enough. They will seek to undermine you and cut you down, and you will not even know why.

So, like the ladies of the First Wives Club, a great movie about loss, despair, growth and claiming your own power, you have to rise up, like the Phoenix and be all that you are.  It is a powerful feeling to recognise, even if you need a little help to get you over that line, that you are more than simply okay as you are. You are YOU.

You are a Spirit in a human body and learning all you can. You are learning to be all that you can be, and as long as your motivation is for the Highest Good of all and with the Best Intentions for everyone, including yourself, then it is a wonderful thing to be your unique self. This is living a Spiritual Life. Live your life and love it, all of it.

#YouDon'tOwnMe

“It’s not what you say out of your mouth that determines your life, it’s what you whisper to yourself that has the most power!”
Robert T. Kiosaki

 

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2014

 

 

 

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#The Scottish Lament

Blood-soaked Culloden after the battle.

 

Proud and free they lived

Asking for nothing but a free life

In mountainous Highlands

And Lowlands valleys

Taking only their right to freedom

To breathe the sweet air of the north

Wild and free was their Spirit

Taming a land of wild extremes

In icy freshets they bathed

‘Parritch’ their staple fare

Living where no-one else dared

The English called them ‘heathen’

They also branded them ‘Jacobite’

For the want of a monarch

Bonnie Prince Charlie was he

To live a live they chose

At Culloden betrayed they were

By the pride of Laird and Prince

Their Prince’s money….. Vanished

In their hearts naught but cold and hunger

Nor weapons for their hands

Still they stood to face their foe

Only their pride held them stay

Only pride to fight the bloody affray

Keeping the hated Redcoats at bay

A hopeless cause from that start

Fighting fiercely their heart sore to burst

Swarmed by a moving tide of red

English Redcoats soon to come where Scottish bled

Scotland’s sons and daughters

Slaughtered without mercy

No mercy was asked nor given

The English goal to strip away life

Death held sway over the land

Their language, their kilt ripped away

Imprisoned and tortured for their pride

England saw only raw defiance

No independence, no reliance

Just death!

Her people now are gone

To newer lands to sing their song

To stand with pride once more

Their kilt, their mettle to show

Yet their hearts are still set

Part of Scotland still set

Midst heather, peat and mountain

Pride renewed, a glorious fountain

Neither redcoat nor foreign foe

Can keep Scotland’s children from her wild shores.

Whither thou goest

Wherever thou may roam

Til British rule expires and

Scotland stands free once more.

#The Scottish Lament

Memorial for the Highlanders who fell at Culloden and later.

 

Blessings, Susan, ♥

 ©  Susan Jamieson, 2014

 ©  Executive Sorceress, 2014

“For as long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. It is not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom — for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.”
From The Declaration of Arbroath 1320.

Images courtesy of www.scotchwhisky.de and www.mundo.cz

As these things often do, this came to me from out of the blue. It was not until I did the research that I found the dates for the Culloden Homecoming, a celebration of Highland culture to be commemorated on September 6th and 7th this year. Perhaps the old blood is calling. In their memory……

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“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them”
Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island

“What Price Trust, Respect and Communication?”

It may sound like a ridiculous question, and in some ways it could be said to be a question that is automatically answered and therefore a waste of time. After all, if you have a “significant other” in your life, then you presume that trust is one of the most important things in your relationship. It is an integral part of everything you do. Or have I misread the fine print somewhere?

I know this is something I have asked myself before, probably more than once, and therefore the answer should be in front of me. Yet, I am continually reminded by others, that life is not always so straightforward. People are seldom one-dimensional, and as far as language is concerned, what something means to one person, means something entirely different to another.

So how can we ensure that what we say and do is clearly understood by someone else? It’s really Communication 101, with a dash of Trust 201, and also Respect 301. Sounds funny doesn’t it, yet also self-evident, don’t you think?

I’ve spent my entire life working on the principle that, what I say I can be held to, at any time. I’m reminded of the film and series “Fifty Shades of Grey”. For many life is like that. (No, I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard so much about it.) If someone can find a grey area, that wiggle room, they will exploit what they say to get round the finer points of the truth. Yet to me, the truth is all important. It is a foundation block for all life.

#trustrespectcommunication

Image courtesy of simplelifecelebrations.com

 

“Friendship- my definition- is built on two things. Respect and trust. Both elements have to be there. And it has to be mutual. You can have respect for someone, but if you don’t have trust, the friendship will crumble.”
Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Think for one moment about the misunderstanding, the hurt, the pain and the betrayal, felt by individuals and you begin to realise the importance of truth and trust. You can also add ‘countries’ in this equation, as the furore over the perceived intention on someone’s words has seen entire continents go to war.

Perhaps I am the one “at fault” here. Perhaps I am too black and white, the one who cannot see the middle ground in a situation?

Yet, I’m always reminded of the old Western films, John Wayne, Henry Ford and Paul Newman; even Robert Duvall and Kevin Costner in “Open Range”. They always depicted people of strong character who were willing to die for the truth, the right, and to protect those weaker than themselves. Idealistic isn’t it?

Yet there are times when idealism is what we need to return to, in order to get our country, our world, and our relationships, out of the mire and into the clear skies once more. Are we not meant to be “smelling the roses” each day, “paying it forward”, remembering “kindness, gratitude and appreciation?” I’m surely not the only one who has become lost along the way? I should ask if I have become lost along the way.

#trustrespectcommunication

Image courtesy of crunchmodo.com

“If we can just let go and trust that things will work out they way they’re supposed to, without trying to control the outcome, then we can begin to enjoy the moment more fully. The joy of the freedom it brings becomes more pleasurable than the experience itself.”
Goldie Hawn

There was a time when I believed that family was everything, the glue which held all of us together. These were the people who, no matter what happened, you could rely on to “have your back” and help you, come what may. Yes, another idealistic outlook, but there has to be a start somewhere and if not with family, then where?

We cannot talk to each other any longer because everyone seems to feel the need to ensure they are “one better’ than you are. It makes them feel so much more satisfied if they can “blame you” for saying or doing something, even if they have no idea what actually happened. It makes me feel saddened at the loss of that family bond. I know my parents would be more than disappointed.

These simple “codes of life” apply across the spectrum, from the individual relationships, friendships to the dynamics of country interaction.

#trustrespectcommunication

Image courtesy of http://www.quoteswave.com

 

“We’re paying the highest tribute you can pay a man. We trust him to do right. It’s that simple.”
Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

In the end, I feel, we have to build trust and respect through communication. It is essential we do this if we wish to survive and bring the world forward into a better place than it is presently. Is this not the meaning of our journey here on earth?

If I say, I will tell you the story of my life, so that you can learn from it, avoid the pitfalls which brought me low, then I must follow through with that promise. I cannot decide to change my offer after I have begun, because I think I can “make more money from it” by selling it to someone else. I cannot say, I will make this promise with you, yet if another country offers me more, then I will forget our arrangement and go with the new offer.

We have to respect our own words first and foremost so that others know they can trust us. They can believe in our words because we have shown them our word is important. It was one of the founding blocks of society when we began forming societies. Respect and Trust in our Communication with ourselves and with others. I don’t believe things have changed much at all. If only everyone else understood those three little words…. We could avoid so much hurt and pain, so much bloodshed. Understanding could be second nature.

So many clichés and yet they are all true. My you find your Truth and Respect for yourself and your fellow spirit along life’s journey and learn the dance of communication to bring us closer together.

#trustrespectcommunication

Image courtesy of sherwoodfleming.com

 

“Trust is the glue of life. It’s the most essential ingredient in effective communication. It’s the foundational principle that holds all relationships.”
Stephen R. Covey

 

May all our days be filled with understanding so that we can trust one another from a place of respect. Let us then communicate from our hearts.

 

Blessings,  Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, August 2014

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#Communication. It's Only Words

Image courtesy of nashontechnology.blogspot.com

 

“From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork.”
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Have you ever stopped to wonder why words cause so many difficulties? After all they’re only words, the means by which we convey our thoughts and feelings. Yet so many times, what is a simple and forgettable word to one person, can be a veritable insult to another. Is it any wonder that there are so many hurt feelings and arguments over what we mean by the words we say to each other?

Many are the words uttered in anger, or whilst feeling under pressure or stress. Do these words mean the same thing if they were said whilst calm and unpressured? I rather doubt it. At least, that has been my observation.

Computers and computer programs, have the singular honour of creating the most intense feelings of frustration for many people, even over minor matters. They are such contrary machines, aren’t they? Some days, no matter how hard you try, or follow the same steps you followed the day before, the wretched program refuses to behave as it should. You’re blood pressure rises and you can feel the irritation begin to mount.

In retrospect, it is at this point that the rest of the household, or office, should embark for points north, south, east of west. Anywhere, in fact, to avoid the likely wrath to come. But no, everyone remains and the ensuing eruption of heightened emotion spills over and someone ends up feeling hurt or misunderstood.

#Communication - It's Only Words

Image courtesy of sherwoodfleming.com

“Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating … but there are other ways to understanding.”
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The irony is, the person struggling with the computer, or any appliance which is being contrary, should simple mutter under their breath, except….. Someone is sure to ‘demand’ that they repeat what they have just said. I can almost guarantee that the word “Stupid” will form part of the epithet. Guaranteed!   What’s even more certain, is that the person listening is going to hear that they are being called stupid. It may even sound as though that was the intention. Yet I am positive that the intention is that the computer, program, appliance, even the operator of the machine is really saying they are stupid for not getting it to work correctly. Perhaps if the person offering assistance has already pushed their help on the struggling and irate digitally challenged person, then they may mean they feel, momentarily that they are stupid for not being able to offer the solution.

However, I’m sure if you were able to ask that person what they meant, they would not have been accusing or abusing the other person of being stupid. Now we have a recipe for an even more bitter and disastrous interchange to occur. The mountain of misunderstanding rises moment by moment.

#Communication - It's Only Words
Image courtesy of twiki.org          No wonder my head hurts at times.

Now we have a struggling computer person, who is definitely not nerdy, feeling even more stupid themselves, plus the person offering to help, when they should have left well enough alone, feeling hurt and offended, because they feel they’ve been abused and called stupid. What a disastrous state of affairs. Why? Because of words. Words should be used to enlighten, to assist, to love and cherish, foster loving feelings and calm hurt ones, not to abuse and enrage. A classic case of miscommunication.

So where now? Somehow, through this veritable minefield of the English language, two people have to tread warily, and hope they can untangle this knotted ball of wool. I had a ball of wool recently, so knotted up that it took two hours to untangle it… I wasn’t sure I had the patience but I did succeed in the end. I know for a fact that I cursed that wool roundly and often – without it taking offense. Luckily for me!

#Communication - It's Only Words

Image courtesy of webdesignledger.com

“I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.”
Jane Wagner, The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe

Human emotions are not as easy as a ball of wool. You can’t hurt the feelings of a ball of wool. You may chop it into pieces if it is really annoying and tangled, but it isn’t going to be hurt or upset. Yet here we have two people who have to walk a tightrope and hope they reach an understanding. Why is the English language so fraught with traps? What is meant by one is not meant by another and this misunderstanding of the use of the same word can cause irreparable damage. Someone, at some time, definitely did not like people conversing.

So, I’m about to try to walk the minefield of knotted logic and understanding and hope I can get my point of view across and understand theirs, so that harmony can flower in the home once more. What puzzles me the most, is that we are speaking the same language. It isn’t as though we are talking different languages and it is an interpretation problem. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps that is the missing key.

English has been added to over the centuries, as the various conquerors have added their offerings to the base language and idioms. In retrospect, it’s not surprising there are so many misunderstandings. Perhaps I should go back to school and study English again, although I fear everyone may need to so we can all be on the same wavelength.

#Communication - It's Only Words
Image courtesy of http://www.iusb.edu    Build the base for communication.

“Oh what a wicked web we weave”. My aching head is going to bed. Good intentions will succeed in the end – survival depends on it.

“If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.”
Nelson Mandela

Very wise words.

 

Blessings, Susan.♥

© Susan Jamieson. August 2014

 

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#Through the Portal Stones

image courtesy of http://www.goodreads.com

 

She was on no path she had seen before

When she left the shelter of the trees

And saw on the crest of the tor

A giant circle of standing stones

Her feet carried her forwards

Closer still to the circle of stones

A fey energy she felt as she neared them

And she felt the hair on her body

Stand straight and stiff from some strange force

Yet her feet took her inexorably onwards

Until in the centre of the circle she stopped

Engulfed in an incredible feeling of peace

Of ages long gone and questions of possibility

All thought and feeling fled

As the silence of the countryside was broken

By strange noises all around her

Of men shouting and others whispering quietly

She knew not if her pursuers had found her

Voices seeming to call just beside her ear

Stumbling as she looked around in the mist

Stumbling, she flung her hand out to stop falling

Instead her hand struck the standing stone

Light flashed and sudden darkness engulfed her

The stones were still in front of her

Yet the sounds of people moving silently surrounded her

More voices she now heard calling

Deep, gruff and quietly fierce

She stumbled again unbalanced

Brought up short by the prick of a knife

Held quickly up to her throat

Men, wild of hair and beard

Dressed in ragged and dirty clothes like kilts

Seemed to whirl around her with smooth Scottish lilts

As they began to hustle her away from the stones

She struggled, and opened her mouth

To scream aloud her protest

But the hand over her face

Cut off sound and most of her breath

Fearing to be left to rot

Her throat cut from ear to ear

She stumbled on the uneven ground

Loose from her captor she whirled aside

Turning back towards the circle once more

Seconds flew past like mid summers day

An age for each short moment of time

She reached the portal and ran through

Looking back to see if she was followed

She saw the flame haired giant with eyes of sapphire

Brilliantly blue in the mist staring into her heart

He seemed to be a part of her in some strange way

Lovers from another day?

#Through th Portal Stones

Mist on the Standing Stones

The magic of the stones continues.

 

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, August 2014

 

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#Inecapable Time

Time’s miraculous passage through our lives. Image courtesy of Josephine Wall Art

“The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not”…. ~Thomas Carlyle

It seems at one and the same time, absolutely incredible that not one month, nor two but almost three months have passed since I last wrote a post for Owls and Orchids. It has never been very far from my mind, yet there seems to have been a never-ending stream of events, of things, which needed to be done, or attended to and the days were gone before I knew it.

In some ways it was always going to happen, I simply didn’t think it would be such a long time. I made a promise to myself, that after the previous fourteen month of drug imposed restrictions that I was going to do as much as I could, to get the move from New South Wales to Queensland done – MY WAY!

Perhaps that was where things began to unravel. I was, at that time, still in a lot of pain and felt indescribably wretched from the copious amounts of antibiotics still in my system. My release from the Lyme induced prison had not yet relinquished its hold on me, even if I had been given the “all clear” that I did not, in fact, have, nor ever had Lyme disease. That alone sent my mind into dizzying circles, from which it was often hard to extricate myself. Yet, we had the move to our new home to arrange and I refused to sit, or lay, idly by whilst the hectic work revolved around me.

The new place in Redland Bay was a delightful enticement after the disappointments of Ocean Shores. I would miss the view of the ocean, but in reality, I had been ensconced in my four square prison and only intermittently was able to get outside to see and enjoy it. The irony is not lost on me that I have exchanged, what was supposed to be a location, filled with ocean views, fresh air, healthy and relaxing, for one which is, well, almost suburbia. I say almost, because we are a little off the beaten track, just in a small pocket of civilisation where I can access the dreaded pharmacy, much more easily visit my doctor and, a five-minute stroll arrive at a beautiful water enclosure, boardwalk, trees and filled with all manner of bird life and the occasional kangaroo and wallaby. We have yet to visit the spot where the wallabies come out in early morning and evening to get some photos – but, all in good time.  The camera has yet to be downloaded of all its photos!

 

Falling in with the packing! Image courtesy of busybeingfabulous.com

But – THE MOVE! An interminable number of boxes seemed to parade in front of me daily, each filled and taped to be replaced by another. This, after having decided not to unpack the majority of our belongings, as we felt uncomfortable within moments of getting the keys at Ocean Shores.

I achieved more in that last month than I had for the previous fourteen. I found muscles which had been hammered in the forges of medical experimentation and proclaimed loudly their new abuse. Yet it was also a good feeling. I felt once more, that I was finally achieving something worthwhile. Time seemed, not an enemy, but a friend again.

The relocation was tiring and time-consuming  as they usually are. The large spaces we had seen were rapidly engulfed by more and more boxes as the truck was unloaded. Daily more boxes were unpacked as homes for their contents were found – and yes, I was deciding where things were to be housed. It was a glorious feeling, knowing that I was arranging my kitchen, my clothes, my books, all the many things which make a house into a home. I was doing all those things once more. No longer would I wander around the house, wondering where something had been stored because I hadn’t unpacked it. Time had regained its orderly flow once more. In control and loving it – or so I like to believe. And no, I don’t believe control is the big baddy it has been made out to be.

 

#Inescapable Time

I saw time slipping away as I rushed through each day. Image courtesy of mariana-a.deviantart.com

“Time is a very healing place, one in which you can grow.” ~Denise Tanner

Yet herein I also found my obsession again. That indefinable and inseparable part of myself which wanted everything to be placed “just so”. As things took shape around me I found a greater impetus each day to keep going, despite the increasing pain, to forge my new home into the vision I had for it. Boxes have an amazing array of hard edges and corners, a depth to them which defies normal reach and I found myself entrapped and attacked by the capriciousness of cardboard!

An unfortunate three weeks with a heavy cold cramped my style in ways I hadn’t foreseen. Frustration ran rampant, as I looked with growing dislike at the small number of boxes I had unpacked each day. This was in no way helped by an officious and supercilious doctor, who decided she knew me, my condition and what I needed more than I did after a mere five-minute consultation. So much for a simple script for antibiotics to cure the chest infection, and pain meds to help me “soldier on”. Meds I should add, which I showed her I had been prescribed by my doctor and had taken for some time. She promptly decided to re write my medication needs and refused to give me the pain meds at all. – If I’m suffering now it must be due to the uncomplimentary names I called her for several days after this visit. Needless to say, I won’t be visiting her again!
So, here we are finally. I still have my crystal display case to unpack and sort out, but that is the final item. I really prefer to leave all those fragile and sentimental items until everything else is in place. But, I’m here, and with the help of Spirit, life can begin in a new and more delightful way than ever.
Time passes and new things are found in unexpected places. Obstacles will be overcome and life can take its new path. The delights of the newly discovered will once more be mine.

 

#Inescapable Time

Carried away on Unicorn dreams. Image courtesy of Josephine Wall Art

 

“Time is a brisk wind, for each hour it brings something new… but who can understand and measure its sharp breath, its mystery and its design?” ~Paracelsus

Blessings, Susan

© July 2014 Susan Jamieson

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