Devices

Oh bloody hell, it's been another month already. Partly down to the demise of the old laptop, or rather the decision to buy this new one as a pre-emptive strike against the impending demise of the old one... We are grumpy about the change as the old one was much nicer, talked much more politely to the wifi, and was solidly built with a nice metal casing instead of this horrible shiny black plastic. I am unhappy to report that we now have five devices in the house (two smart phones, two laptops and a tablet in a pear tree). I have the most ambivalent relationship with all this technology. I did not want to get a smart phone but somehow a smart phone insisted on becoming mine and now that it is... well, I'm doomed basically, having an addictive strand to my personality which has caused me problems more than once with blogging, email, texts. The last time I had access to my emails on a handset was when I worked for horrible corporate style charity and had a device... not for nothing known by my colleagues as the Crackberry.... and I was forever checking my emails, work and personal. It becomes a sort of nervous tic, and much as I resolve not to allow it to happen, it happens. Bleugh.

Meanwhile I realise that comparing one's life with other people's is a mistake, yet struggle sometimes not to compare my life with other people's. Then other people compare their life with mine, and can't understand why I have so much difficulty, when it all looks so good, and I just feel lousy and ungrateful. My life is one of ease and luxury compared with many, yet I am struggling with the transition back to a 'proper' amount of work, and to squaring up to the demands and rigours of self employment - self-promotion, publicity, networking and the like being considerably less my 'comfort zone' than actually being a therapist, which obviously I rather like and am somewhat competent at. Going back to employment would of course have brought different challenges. Steady income, holiday pay etc, but much more difficulty controlling workload and therefore stress levels.

Sometimes I'm fine, sometimes I'm not. It will be three years in December since G died and two in February since my Mum's death. I still get anxious sometimes, depressed sometimes and struggle with confidence. Less, much less, but still, when these things are happening, they're happening and losing perspective seems to be something to which I am prone. As my latest therapist is wont to point out. No you're not losing your mind, you're just losing perspective.

Meanwhile Autumn is here, the clocks go back at the weekend, my birthday next week, and we had the first fire a couple of nights ago. I think I'll light another tonight to watch the final of Bake Off in front of. Please no spoilers....

Equinox, Bird

Autumn Equinox has crept up and now it's getting dark at half past seven, getting light at half past seven. Up at seven this morning I put lights on in the kitchen... Lots of sunshine this September, the gentle way in to the change of season, though as soon as the sun goes you feel that familiar drop in temperature, and there are scatterings of leaves, dewy cobwebs, blackberries, the whole bit.

And yesterday a loud thud on the kitchen window as I sat at the laptop. Could only have been a bird, I reasoned, not likely to be a prankster child throwing clods at my window. Opened the door and at first saw a sparrow on the patio, looking perky enough. Surely not you? Then a tiny bird caught my eye, sitting, looking stunned on the flags of the path along the front of our house, which leads to all three of our neighbours' houses. And when I say tiny I mean tiny. About as long as my thumb. Mouse-like. And beautiful, with some greeny yellow in its plumage, wing markings that suggested the finch family to me with my limited knowledge, and, most strikingly, a yellow stripe on its head lined with black. So tiny was this bird I had no hesitation in assuming it was a baby, newly fledged that had met an unfortunate obstacle on its maiden flight. There it sat on the path, eyes a little closed, breathing visibly. I crouched down, looked, spoke, wondered. I was about to go out and worried about it being trodden on. What to do? I wondered if picking it up would be traumatic for it, stunned as it already clearly was, but in the end decided this was preferable to death by crushing underfoot. I picked the tiny bird up, soft, light, a little warm, and it clung to my fingers with its scratchy claws and didn't want to let go. I had to prise its little feet off me, ease it to the ground, safely off the path. Wished it luck and made ready to go. Along comes C, our neighbour, returning from school crossing duty just along the road, in full lollipop regalia, and I show her the bird, tell her what's happened. She thinks she'd like to take it to her house, give it a bit of warm, let it recover, bends down to pick it up, and whoosh! Off flies the feisty little thing, twenty yards or so into a bush in the corner of the garden, and we both cheer and smile, congratulate it, wish it well. I go off to work feeling pleased and privileged.

Later, I tell L the story, show her the very small photograph on my phone, expand it to show more detail, and she goes to the RSPB website and... lo and behold, it was a goldcrest! An adult goldcrest mark you... It's Britain's smallest bird I learn, and yes, it sure is small. Quite a meeting.

Baby Teeth

I dreamed last night of a baby, held in someone's arms, not mine, and I talking to the baby and to the one who held her. I said something to the effect that the baby would soon be at the stage to start putting everything in her mouth, and at this very moment she grabbed my hand and raised it, with some force, to her mouth. The side of my index finger felt so clearly in the dream those little hard soft gums, the dribble and the determination, and I said oh, those little teeth will soon be coming through...

The Jumping-Off Point

Rising upwards from your baseball boots
you looked out, looked down, looked sideways,
a second look, a backwards glance,
and everything behind you was the past
and everything in front of you was a blur,
like trying to look at a speeding freight train,
like the dreams where you can't see
the names of the stations
to find out if you're on the right train.

Twilight With Jackdaws

About a million jackdaws flying across the fields to roost in the tall trees below the chapel, in the twilight. They come in waves, in loose, tattered groups, the opposite of synchronised, making the loud harsh cries of the corvid family. They come and they come and they come, as I stand staring up at the sky above my head, and I begin to think they will come forever, almost to believe this, then slowly the groups grow smaller, then a last few stragglers, and that's it, the sky now empty. Their cacophony rises and mingles with the sound of the church bells from the other side of the valley.

Shaken

I am here and four months have passed. The bilberries are coming to an end and soon the blackberries will be ripe. I look forward to September's sense of new beginning. I have moved my work to the large, sunny practice room in town. I have created a space in which I feel at ease, and so can my clients. The process of 'leaving home' with my work has stirred my depths, with memories of another 'leaving home' surfacing and demanding to be remembered, felt, understood. 1978, when my parents separated and I left the house where I'd grown up, the town, the school, and my father. It's been a process that has shaken me to the core, and I've survived once again. Ready to love and forgive myself everything I thought was somehow my fault. More growth, more change. On we go.

Hello again.

April Come She Will

.... and go! So much for the April blogging challenge. There have been other fish to fry and I have kept meaning to come here and say so. I have found a room in town for my therapy practice and it's been an exciting and rather tense process, looking at a few possibilities, weighing up pros and cons, saying yes and saying no and then getting clear. It looks like I'll have it from July, which gives me time to prepare, mentally and emotionally and in the IKEA sense!!

I'll try to get here again in the next few days, but there seems to be a lot to do and think about before we go off on holiday on Friday. Skiathos beckons.... So if I don't get here before, I'll see you when I return.

In other news - clearing four inches of snow off the car yesterday morning was certainly a memorable finale for an exceptionally cold April!