For You

To me, you are the person who is full of colour and love.

I can see it in the way you laugh, and the way you see life.

Lately, I think, that colour has faded, love has weakened a little.

But there are seasons in life, some not as colourful as others. This is important.

Please remember that Spring will be knocking at your door soon; the colour will brighten once more.

In the mean time, I have collected these words. And I offer them to you, with love, and faith that you will make it.

❊

Links Love #11

// That time Barbie actively encouraged starvation dieting.

// A to X writing advice.

// Little victories.

// Backstage with Elvis.

// Every type of email students send to teachers.

// For sale: The Original Batmobile.

❊

A Poem For Today | 5

Thirst

Praying

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

- Mary Oliver

❊

This Week #14 | You'll Get There

Following on from Monday's post, I appear to have lost my balance. Suddenly and all at once.
It's taken nearly a week of really messed up sleep and endless work for me to realise things aren't quite right. I can't quite pinpoint what's triggered it - aside from the lack of sense in my brain - but I know I've lost that bubble in my spirit level. It's either fallen dramatically left, or dramatically right. Neither of which I particularly like the sound of.

This loss of balance has made me realise why I write. Why I tell stories. Why I jump at the chance to read my favourite part of Catcher in the Rye to a dear friend. Why my hands are always less jittery when I'm holding a pen or stabbing (more aggressively than needed) at the keys on my laptop.

It's my release. I'm filling the hole. We're all filling a hole. And it was a recent conversation with a close friend that reiterated this to me. Everyone fills their hole with something; running, smoking, drinking, shopping, working, taking hour long baths and eating sweetcorn from the tin. These tiny victories gives us a simple satisfaction that we lose when we forget that the opinions of others are just that, opinions.

So here it is, why I write.

I write to meditate and soothe. To cast wholesome feelings on to those who have lost their way a little. To romanticise about how I hope I am perceived. To share secrets I cannot utter aloud. To feel even the tiniest connection to the people I wish for. To be better, more creative and grounded. 

I write because sometimes all I have in me are the few words I scribble on paper. 

I write because when someone tells you you lack direction, you show them that you can conquer every direction you see.

❊

Finding Balance

Writing from the window of a much loved coffee shop after an intense yoga class - that could really only be considered pilates - probably makes this all sound a little bit more dreamy. And I like that, it sits well with me.

My headspace feels good. Sane even. It's completely full and completely empty.

I woke up calm. Showered and brushed my teeth. Refused to wear a scrap of make up and adorned my best yoga clothes. My phone is switched off and I'm sneaking three raspberries in to my mouth at regular intervals. I've got everything I need.

Granted, there are a few things I desire; a plan, a little more money (simply for ease), summer to happen all over again. But what I have is enough. And that's what I'm trying to keep in my mind. I have what I need, I can walk, talk, swim, laugh, love and so far I've managed just over 18 years with all of those talents. 

So, it's enough right? Of course it is.

❊

To Consider:

"The worst thing in the world can happen, but the next day the sun will come up. And you will eat your toast. And drink your tea."

❊

Links Love #10

// Paris through Pentax.

// "I, the photographer, am nude, while the subject is not."

// Idioms from around the world.

// Cat's stunning photos from 'Paradise Lost'.

// Santa Maria della Pietà; a small oasis in Abruzzo.

// The UK's first cereal café!

❊

A Poem For Today | 4

Drown

Last time we went swimming

the sea stood up and hugged you,

as though you were responsible

for keeping it blue.

❊

This Week #13 | Human After All

I guess you could say I've lost my head a few times this week. There's a sense that things are slipping and I'm holding on to the weakest cracks.

That's how I originally started this post. 

And then I remembered the amount of times things like:

"If you think bad, it will be bad."

"Get some sleep, stop worrying."

"I'm here because I want to be."

have been said to me this week. They mean as much as the person that said them. As much as they care for me and as much as I care for them.

Life will only be as bad as I think it to be. And from now on, it will be damn sweet.

❊

Dear November...

After the blaze of October, the trees - much like me - stand dormant, awaiting the shine of Spring.

It's hard to get around the wind, but it's coming. Thick and fast, ready for a battle. When love feels heavy you must remember that there will be brighter days, where the sun shines for more than two hours, when eating a tub of ice cream will make you comfortable, not cold. Those days are coming, soon. First, you must prepare with today, tomorrow and the days after that. These crisp November mornings will shape you, make you strong.

Surround us with things that comfort and sustain during the colder months.
November, I admire you. You have so suddenly sauntered up the drive and rang the doorbell. And you've left me no choice but to answer, wooly gloves in hand.

❊