I feel like I’m getting obsessed with reading and commenting on blogs! So many good ones to discover… on such a fascinating range of topics. Just wondering if people make themselves have time away from this WordPress World- any feedback or suggestions for me? Thanks in advance, gabrielle Down Under : )
In bed, snuggled with cat, computer, and early morning cuppa. Click link on generic Facebook newsfeed. Suddenly watching a grief-stricken Mum, mourning her lost daughter after the bomb blast in Manchester. See her blotched red face, and the grey roots of her dull brown hair. Notice her own mother sitting beside her, and perhaps that’s her son, sitting on the floor at her feet, holding her hand with his head bowed? See her swollen eyes and running nose, thickening her voice, wailing for her lost baby. And as my own tears fall softly, think: ‘This is the true good of social media; we can share our vulnerabilities and losses. Her life has just been fucking ruined, and she’s sharing a miniscule amount of her pain on this day with us. She’s held in this nightmare by her family who love her, and she’s not alone. Thank god she’s not alone.’ We are all in mourning, all across the world, all the time: for our lost family members or friends, our beloved dead pets, our forgotten dreams. …
Originally posted on Brave & Reckless:
What leans a woman into her Life? Lean close to the Ache of pain or grief instead of away? Not Away into drink, sex, TV or buying. But instead Breathe hot and brave into heart ruptures, pressing pearl bones against trial and Mistakes, angled up close enough to see the Splinters as they happen. Moon was such a Woman. Tall, strong, soft, wrapped in amber and citrus oil, Kindness like a long scarf trailing from her hair. When Moon first kissed her with mint fire lips, did all the stars Stop to watch? It seemed so. She sank her black bags of Loss to Moon’s bare feet, who simply leant in, stepped over them, and Kissed her again. When they first made Love, after 2 months of crawling round her Ugly walls, Moon whispered her name over and over, calming urges to Flee outside her frozen body, with the thin blood and forever tears. For Moon, she Warmed. When they first fought, as all lovers must, firework shouts Cracked…
Me: I need something funny from you for my next Blog post, my readers love them Him: [Scathing glance sideways] Mum, I’m not your performing monkey
Originally posted on bone&silver:
My mother, who lives in England, turned 80 on July 4. From Australia, I had organised a 3-day weekend get together in an old farmhouse on Dartmoor for our closest relatives, meaning 13 of us met up to celebrate. I hauled myself over to the UK, begrudging all those people who sleep easily on planes. Still, four good films in a row aren’t bad going. A couple of weeks before I left, I treated myself to a massage. As usual, I wondered why I don’t do it more often? It was such a lush experience, with hot white towels softly lowered over me, and warm wheat-bags resting along each limb, feeding the air with that fresh bread scent. No tinny dolphin music, just silence. It was in a private home, so no exterior noise, or impatient clients waiting outside the door for us to finish. The masseur created a wonderful sense of nurturing, with her deliberate, knowledgeable movements, and I sank into the experience. I’d had a horrible cough…
The Monsters Under My Bed http://braveandrecklessblog.com/2017/05/17/the-monsters-under-my-bed/
I heard ‘Almost17’ in the shower at 6am (we had to leave for the airport at 7); he soon came into my room fully dressed, with still-damp hair, where I lay in bed reading before getting up. Him: Move over Mum. Me: [Really??] OK Sweetie. [Sliding over, slightly stunned, but pretending I’m cool…] Him: Happy Mother’s Day. Me: Thanks. You know I think it’s a load of Hallmark crap don’t you, but that’s still lovely, thank you. Are you bringing me peppermint tea in bed? Him: No, I’m too tired. I didn’t get home from the party till 1am. *Rolls on his side away from me*. Spoon me Mum. Me: [REALLY??] OK Sweetie. [Spooning behind him, completely stunned, gingerly resting my arm on top of him and the quilt because, you know, I’m Cool…] Him: No, properly Mum, under the covers. Please let me sleep for another 15 minutes. Me: Sure honey… *Lie there holding my baby boy as he begins to twitch and dream, breathing deeply. For how many nights did I hold him until …
Yup, I just reached that sweet baby milestone, and want to honour all of you who’ve taken the time to read even one Post. I’ve always wanted to be a ‘writer’, ever since I worked out how to make a word on a piece of paper (I remember the moment; it was of course c-a-t). I felt like I’d made magic, and sometimes still do. When I write or read something poignant or visceral, I’m so grateful for my blessed life, where I can make Art in peace and safety, with a roof over my head and food in my belly. I’m going to donate $100 today to The Indigenous Literary Foundation here in Australia, whose mission is to provide language-appropriate books and reading classes to disadvantaged Aboriginal children in remote areas. I’m also going to eat a piece of cake. If I could share it with all of you, I would. Thank you so much for your support and love, gabrielle xxxxx
Ever wondered why some dates lead you to sex, romance, or even love, while others leave you cold? Have you dumped someone as soon as it got too intimate or demanding? Or endlessly analysed online messages, and started ‘deep & meaningful’ conversations, seeking reassurance? Alternatively, perhaps you’ve been happily committed to your ‘best friend’ for 20+ years, and have no idea what I’m talking about? Attachment Theory suggests that our experience of being parented deeply informs our neural pathways, which are committed to repeating familiar patterns- a genetic programming designed to keep us ‘safe’, close to the tribe, and able to navigate back to the cave easily. As I’ve said HERE before, after reading ‘Attached’, I know I’ve been happily Avoidant, and now at the ripe old age of 50, am trying to change that. This dog WILL learn new tricks! As I reflect on friends, past lovers and partners, of any gender, I use my body wisdom to remind me what dynamic we were in together: Holding me at arm’s length (as I did …
We’re chatting & laughing as we share my yummy nachos, when suddenly: Him: Mum… Me: [Giggling, cheesey corn chips halfway to my mouth] Yes Sweetie… Him: Have you seen that meme online which says ‘If I can hear you chew your food, I’m fantasizing about killing you’? *Disclaimer: my son ‘Almost17’ is fabulously kind, sensitive, smart and honest. We spent 2 months sitting in an old Barn in the Dordogne region of France a couple of years ago, cooking, reading, & talking. HERE’S one of my fav longer posts from those days, if you’re interested ❤
bone&silver 