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Outlook from the new house

Outlook from the new house

It’s so strange, packing once again. This disconnected feeling of being homeless, rootless, which is so alien and uncomfortable. I long for one place to call home, knowing I can put down my roots and stay there forever.

I look back and try to see if I’ve left a footprint, an imprint here; would anyone see me or miss me when I’ve left? If I’m honest I would have to say – No! The only person who knows I’m here, to whom my presence here makes any difference is going with me – my husband, Ray.  Where would I be without him?

No question really. I would be alone in my unit in Burleigh. Would my life be settled? Well, would I be in one place. Putting down roots? I guess I might be settled, but even then it’s questionable.  It definitely didn’t turn out quite the way I imagined – I needed to see the ocean and on the Gold Coast that is well-nigh impossible, unless you are wealthy and have a separate office elsewhere. A home office is somewhat laughable.

So many places we looked at which seemed so tiny! Are we looking at this the wrong way? I know that bigger is not better – these huge mansions don’t make you happy, but they do make putting your accumulated bits and pieces on display much easier.

The smallest bookcases

The smallest bookcases

Is there a place for books in our developing and changing world? They take up so much room, time to pack and unpack. Yet they hold so many memories of the people who gave them to me. Gifts from the heart. How does one arbitrarily dispose of a heart given gift? Yes, it is an object, I know this, but they evoke more memories being able to see the name of the person who gave them to me inscribed inside the cover than a copy on a Kindle can. Not that I would now be without my Kindle!

More irreplaceable memories

More irreplaceable memories

Yet the fact remains, I would not want to be without my books.  Nor any of my ornaments, just so many trinkets to some and yet to me they are more heart given gifts amassed over the years. So very many memories evoked. I don’t ask anyone to understand how I feel about them, but simply accept that it is real for me. They are priceless and irreplaceable heirlooms and always will be.

These would be MY trinkets and baubles!

These would be MY trinkets and baubles!

My heart clenches, my tummy roils, and there is a lump in my throat. I know I cannot leave behind these ‘things’ which evoke so much emotion. I’m not ready to even think about it let alone to do it, if I ever will be. I know my own nature and I know how I feel about my attachment to ‘things’. My gratitude for these priceless and irreplaceable mementos is unable to be calculated.  When the people are gone these are the tangible ‘things’ left for me.

I’m told the era of libraries, of books is going if not already gone. Print media will die as e zines and e books take over, and I am saddened at this sign of progress. In time will all our priceless mementos be holographic images of what once we could see and hold in our hands, cherish in our hearts?

Simple mementos

Simple mementos

Is this progress what we really want or is it what we are having foisted onto us – for the sake of what or whom?

I’d really love to know.

The packing boxes are stridently calling and I must carefully wrap these treasures for their next journey.

Many blessings dear reader,  may your treasures remain safe.

Happy Easter wishes.

Susan xx

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You must match your energy, your vibration, with that of the universe, bringing it to a higher frequency where it synchronizes with the object, person, or situation you require.”
Stephen Richards   

“Serendipity. Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you’ve found is more suited to your needs than what you thought you were looking for.”   Lawrence Block

I have been laid up in bed, more than a little irritated at everything in general and myself in particular. It’s all a rather fruitless exercise. In other words, a glorious waste of time. What made it worse, at least so it seemed to me, was I lost my “mojo” or I thought I had, as a dear friend called it in her blog, “Lost your creative mojo?”.

The strange thing was, I couldn’t  sleep, at least not at night. As soon as the lights went out my eyes popped open and I felt like a proverbial owl, gazing steadfastly into the dark hoping for – well something to happen. Now, I’ve been in this little pickle before, and there is little use fighting it by counting sheep. All it succeeds in doing is putting me off lamb for a while. (Apologies to any vegetarians, but in actual fact I eat little meat anyway).

I had, over a period of many hours, used all of my meditation tapes, CD’s, chants, visualisation, and I wasn’t having any joy. So, I decided that I had to change tack. The very thing which was causing my nocturnal interruptus was going to be there in the morning and it wouldn’t let me rest until I made a decision. Yet making that decision was giving me a migraine and an ulcer. You’ve probably worked out that the “problem” was family oriented. It’s the one which usually causes the most angst.

Diversionary tactics were called for. After a decade I picked up my crochet and started that.  This in itself was a huge thing for me and was part of my ” 2013 Creative Challenge“. By itself it was a huge help and I enjoyed it immensely. The satisfaction of seeing this fragile mat take shape under my hands was uplifting. However, I was conscious of not overdoing it, since it has been more than a decade since I had been able to do anything, thanks to a ‘minor’ accident. This was my finished mat a few days ago. It has taken me two days to get it onto my blog….

One Pineapple mat - for Mum.

One Pineapple mat – for Mum.

After the crochet I went for my trusty Kindle and read until my eyes felt as though they were hanging out of my head on stalks. I’m quite sure I could have auditioned for a sci-fi movie without any prosthetics required. By this time I was feeling somewhat surreal, staggering around like someone who had been on a three-day bender and I hadn’t had a drop!

image from ereaders.venturebeat.com

I’ve managed to find a super little book light which makes reading at night a breeze. Once again, my accident over a decade ago had stopped me reading until late last year. My love affair with books has been rekindled… pardon the play on words.  Most of my books are heavy-duty tomes and I want to make sure that when I finally pick them up it’s not going to cause any problems. The Kindle has sorted that out beautifully. Once again, thanks to Ray.

Yet eventually, pounding headache, eyes hanging on dry stalks and a raging backache also put a stop to that. Then came the journal.  In my heyday it was called a diary… how’s that for dating things! I used to keep one regularly. Nearly slipped up and said religiously, but I don’t want to cause offense to anyone. Yes, you may detect that I am feeling lethargic, tired, slightly slow in the thinking department, in short all the signs and symptoms of the sleep deprived. Yet, despite that it served a tremendous service.

image from my.opera.com

As has my foray for a picture to break up my meandering. I’ve written volumes but haven’t thought to add pictures or any of my scribbled drawings before this.  My journal has now been given a new lease of life.  Each dawn I grab a few pictures as the world, down in Australia at least, wakes up.  I listen to the beautiful serenade from the rainforest birds and the general waking up of the local wildlife whilst I wind down. I do my final meditation of the ‘morning’ for everyone out there and then lay down again. In my own way I wind up my day/night with thoughts of the world and my prayers and wishes for a better day for everyone wherever they may be.

Perhaps that’s what causes the final flourish of the magic wand. After this meditation I drift off to sleep, only to wake two hours later in excruciating agony as all the muscles in my neck, head and back let me know they have seized up. My body has betrayed me yet again.

My dear, sweet, long-suffering husband, helps me to the bathroom, since I look like a question mark and he worries  about whether I can find my way there and back again and I am ensconced in the spare room, which has my old bedroom suite in it. I have learned that sleeping alone in a water bed when your back and so on are protesting, is not a good proposition. As I doze in two hourly increments throughout the day, he supplies me with tea, coffee, toast, all the supplements to help me and a strong arm to get me to the bathroom and back. My angel in truth.

So there we are. The three things which are keeping me semi sane: My Crochet, Kindle and Journal. Is that Synchronicity or Serendipity, I really can’t decide. Now the cotton wool filled brain appears to be letting up a little, I may have another string to my bow – my blog, which despite my challenge to myself to blog every other day, has gone awry this week. I don’t think the tapestry will make it into the bed as it may prove too uncomfortable for my husband. He is generous enough at sharing the bed with everything else. (I wonder if a puppy will have any luck?)

And,  there we have it. The reason for my absence. I have been thoroughly pumped at receiving my Award for my blog, and since I felt somewhat better, decided to let you know why I was MIA. I will try to stay on track, although a specialist appointment mid next week may throw me off. That, and my brothers, which is another topic for another day.

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