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Posts Tagged ‘NaBloPoMo’

Insight into Life

image from spykebytes.me

Peering

Through eyes tight with pain

Wondering

How long this is going to last

Thinking of a way to make it past

This annoying hindrance

Life and love surround me

Happiness and joy

That everyone can see – but

What lies beyond this world of mine?

What more is there when I close my eyes?

Sightless I sit in solitude

I hear a baby bird calling for its parents

It’s time for food his cheeping says

Another calls its incessant too-wit

To herald another shower of rain

A whirring at the window

Tells me a dragonfly is near

Coming to see what this strange barrier is

A rumbling grows louder as it nears

A car is straining to make it in top gear

There is a low susurration of sound

As the ocean follows its ebb and flow

I hear bubbling grow in heated tempo

As a kettle is brought to boil

I smell tea brewing in the pot

And hear it pouring into a cup

I smell the delicious aroma as it is brought near

I catch the aroma of something sweet

A pastry of some kind I think

Yet there is a sharp tangy scent carried with it

A filling of tart fruit inside the pastry

The taste, sublime, even more intense

As the fruit and pastry are carefully nibbled

The tea is sipped slowly

The fragrant aroma floats over the tongue

And seeps into the senses

A sigh – Who could know

Fruit Danish and tea could taste even better

And the world outside could be heard

With a greater intensity

By resting my eyes from the pain

The world has given me a new refrain

A delight for the senses refreshed again

To see and hear is such a boon

Yet they live again renewed

Eyes open once more, almost too soon

Insight to Life

image from midstridemoxie.blogspot.com

A million words can be used to describe identity and what it means to you or I, and when we’re done, a million more can be used to interpret what we’ve said. Identity, part of that unique quality which remains almost indescribable. We can catch a glimpse, a new insight into identity and turning around find a new insight is laid bare before us.

“Don’t let a day go by without asking who you are…each time you let a new ingredient to enter your awareness.”
Deepak ChopraThe Book of Secrets: Unlocking the Hidden Dimensions of Your Life

Blessings and Insights to enliven your days.

Ciao, Susan  x

© Susan Jamieson 2013

This is the last post of my NABloPoMo challenge. 30 posts in 30 days.

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National Blog Post Month

Umm, it’s official. I’ve taken a wee step for me and have decided to have a go at the Blog a day for the month challenge.

I’m already doing that, almost, but it’s been a struggle lately as there have been a few additional developments and I’m juggling everything. You know the old story of the juggler who was dared to add “just one more ball” until he dropped everything.

Well, if I drop it, and I’m sure I won’t, then I know I can at least say I had a go. Next year  – who knows, perhaps a novel may beckon.  But for now, this is enough for one sore head.

Ciao,
Susan xx

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image from images.yourdictionary.com –

“Most people want to be circled by safety, not by the unexpected. The unexpected can take you out. But the unexpected can also take you over and change your life. Put a heart in your body where a stone used to be.”
― Ron Hall

Sheep, placid, easy-going and yet they can be as dumb as a fence post if you want them to go somewhere.  A friend once referred to a group of people who didn’t have an individual thought for themselves as “sheeple”. He was referring the “follow me anywhere as long as one of you are going somewhere attitude”.  Not very generous, but unfortunately it can apply to people who apparently are no longer thinking for themselves.

I’m sure you’ve seen the group mentality somewhere. If you are trying to give a seminar to a group like this it’s a long hard day’s work. If you are fortunate it will only be one day’s work. Believe me, the last thing you want to think about if you have a group like this is that you have th same group to face in the morning. Ask a farmer, I’m sure they have lots of tales to tell.

Yet that is not my sorry tale.  I wish it were.

image from sheronmerinexcerpts.wordpress.com

Many years ago when I was working as a uniformed police officer, I had worked a double shift.  In fact that is more than an understatement.  Being one of the very few police women at the time willing to work all those unpleasant late shifts, and wanting to gain experience from what occurs during those shifts, I found myself frequently being recalled back to work.

I didn’t mind, I enjoyed my work, as strange as it may sound to some. I felt I was doing some good to the community by trying to protect them from the undesirable element who felt free to relieve them of property, life or limb.  It sounds noble, but at the time it was simply a truth, for me at least. So being called back to work after barely an hours sleep was worth the discomfort.

Out of the previous two and a half days, that is three normal evening shifts which had run into overtime and being called in both nights, I had barely had four hours sleep. That would have been generous. It is very hard to unwind after a busy shift and even more so when you are working a lot of extra hours.

So in the wee hours of a Sunday morning in mid winter, I was wending my weary way back home along the back roads. Even in Queensland, mid winter and close to several creeks, it can be quite chilly and fog was swirling quite thickly in places. The heat caught by the bitumen roads simply increased the fog. I had chosen the back roads for the simple reason that it was a shorter route than the main road.

It was blissfully quiet, just the purring of my little Volkswagen as it hummed along the dark road. I was already looking forward to a hot drink and a few hours sleep.  Suddenly there was a “bump-bump” as my car went over something in the road. Stopping I couldn’t see anything, the fog was swirling in my path behind me. Carefully pulling into the side of the road I got out with my torch and walked back along the road.

A black sheep, looks beautiful doesn’t it? Unfortunately not when it is in the middle of an unlit road with fog swirling around you.  Dead as a doornail! Did I check for signs of life – well, it wasn’t moving and didn’t rouse when I approached it. Kiss of life – I don’t think so! For the life of me I couldn’t think why there would be a sheep in this particular area – it wasn’t a farm area after all, it was, if anything, semi industrial. There just happened to be a short stretch of roadway with a few houses along it.

I felt awful. I felt like  a murderer. Okay, perhaps not that bad but I was sick that I had run over this poor sheep. There was a house nearby which had a few windows showing lights in them.  So, gathering my courage and embarrassment I walked over and knocked at the door.  The conversation was short.

Me, “Umm, do you happen to own a black sheep by any chance.”

Middle aged man, “Oh yeah, Blackie, have you seen him?”

Me, ” Well, yes, it appears I may have run over him on the road.”

Man, ” I see, well, not your fault. He’s got out again and loves sleeping on the road at night. It’s warm you see. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Me, “Oh, I’m so sorry, what do you want me to do?”

Man, ” Don’t worry about it, I’ll see to it before the kids get up. You just on your way home then?”

Me,”  Yes, been a long night.”

Man, “Well, don’t worry, off you go, can’t be expected to see a black sheep on a black road now can  you?  Cheerio.”

With the door closed in my face, (and I was wearing my uniform), I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Should I move the sheep? Should I fill in a report? (Shudder).  The door reopened and the conversationalist appeared with a large bag.  “Oh, still here? Not to worry, I’m moving Blackie now. Run along then.”

The sun was beginning to make its weak appearance. I was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. Walking back to my car I was wondering if it would start. I mean it’s only a Volkswagen, not some heavy-duty car. How would I explain to a tow truck that I had killed a sheep and needed towing?  Fortunately my little car started straight away and I went home. I wont say sleep came easily and I was very circumspect whenever I drove down dark streets thereafter.

Not my finest hour.

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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