Month: December 2014

end of year

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The year is ending.
It is time to say goodbye:

To missed opportunities
(new ones will come),
to old patterns of friendship,
to stages of life
that I may not know have gone forever.

It is time to say thank you
for each delight:

Quiet evenings playing the piano,
noisy evenings with friends,
a new neighbourhood pub,
a delivery of beautiful clothes,
chatter of small children,
wisdom of older relatives.

It is time to ask for forgiveness:

For moments when I did not
reach out a hand of friendship
or of grace.
For sniping comments in asides,
for shortcuts,
and holding backs.

It is a time to let go:

To release expectations of others,
to shake off expectations from myself,
to accept what was not accomplished,
to let tears carry away loss,
to set down burdens of false responsibility
to shed the hopes of the old year.

It is time to turn around:

To open up to new hope,
to summon energy and courage,
to breathe in delight,
to laugh in anticipation.

It is time to welcome:

New adventures, new beginnings,
new people and new seasons of old friendships,
challenges bigger than ourselves,
darkness we must face and overcome,
every opportunity to bring beauty,
to offer kindness,
to overlook a fault.

It is time to step forward:

Into what we do not yet know,
into what we have not yet seen,
into what we maybe glimpse from a distance,
into what we know and long for, or even dread,
into each new day, a gift,

It is time to beckon and embrace
who we will become.

five christmas luxuries

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breaths of free fresh air on a countryside run after a day of indoors chitchat

the patience of six adults watching reruns of a hastily-composed small nephew and niece nativity (‘again’, ‘now you be a shepherd’, ‘you need to tap people on the head to count them’.)

the first faint roar of a real fire you made yourself

a family friend dropping in simply to give their last unused sheet of luxury christmas wrapping paper – thick, quality white almost-card, dusted with a sprinkling of dainty gold christmas trees, topped with a red star – because they thought someone might appreciate it (they did).

a still moment, between family visits, in which to write even a little

On empty

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On empty

I have poured out
every
little
scrap of
myself,

have been witty,
have been wry,
have been honest,
have discrete,

have exercised my brain,
loved,
flung arms wide,
waited still in silence,
laughed from the heart,
and from the will,

have done chit-chat,
asked searching questions,
empathised, sympathised and dramatised,

remembered formulae,
offered a chocolate Father Christmas and reindeer,
written stories in the margins,
made air time for experts,

and now I gaze into space,
and wait for myself,
to return.

things I want to tell my children but might forget – at the station

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At the station

While walking in the street is fun, sometimes we will want to go on a longer journey.  We might go to visit London, or cousins, or go to see something interesting in a place nearby.

A train journey is one of my favourite things.  To take a train, you have to go to a station.  A station is an almost magical place.  In a station, trains come and go, all bound for different destinations.  Some are going to small places nearby, some are going to big places far away.  But the fact that so many trains are coming and going makes a station full of opportunity and potential and mystery.  You could take a train to a place you have planned to go, or you could just turn up to the station one day and take a train anywhere you like.  Trains are arriving and departing all the time, so an adventure is always just around the corner.

Not only this, but at stations lots of important things are happening.  People are saying goodbye to people they love, or welcoming back people who have been away for a long time, or they are waiting for visitors to come, or they are going to important work meetings or holidays or interviews.  Sometimes people are not there for a specific reason, but just to travel about and see the world.  This is called exploring and it is one of the best reasons of all.

In a station, you can also find things like things to read, things to eat and things to use if you happened to have forgotten something important.  There are people there whose jobs are to help people to find the right train, and the right ticket.

In fact, when you get to a station, the first thing you need to do is to check you have your tickets.  Sometimes you book these in advance, sometimes you go to the ticket counter.  If you decide to queue for a ticket, make sure you go in the queue saying ‘tickets for today’; otherwise you might have to queue twice.  You need to make a decision whether you want to return on a particular train, or whether you want to be at liberty to return any time you like.  These decisions will determine the price of your ticket.

Once you have your ticket, you might need to buy some things.  I sometimes buy something to read, and often tissues and maybe water.  Some people buy things to eat on the train, but when we are traveling together, I will always make us a picnic.  Having a picnic on the train is one of the most fun things to do in the world.

To get to the train you need to put your ticket into the machine at the ticket barrier, and find the right platform.  If you pick the wrong platform, the chances are you will take the wrong train accidentally.  This has actually happened to me and I can report that it is quite time-consuming to take the wrong train.  It is also important to concentrate on the time so that you don’t miss your train.  This is easier by yourself than with others.  Once you are on the right train to the right place at the right time, it is the moment to concentrate on finding a place to sit.  At a table is best for picnics, but this is not always possible.  Right now I also like to pick a quiet carriage but when we travel together, we will probably picnic an ordinary carriage, where you can laugh and joke and don’t have to be extra quiet.

Once the train departs, the next adventure begins.

let me count the ways…. I love coming home

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So my last business trip of the year is complete and after the four and a half hour commute, I have just turned my key in the lock and opened my front door to the joys of coming home.

And here they are:

A few moments of reshelving favourite books, boxing up adaptor plugs, sliding pairs of shoes into their familiar hidey holes, and walking in my mother’s homecoming footsteps of ‘getting the washing on  the go”.

The particular hum of household appliances, the faint squeal of lightbulbs turned down on the dimmer, the strike of a match put to the gas fire tiled with fragments of my great grandmothers china and pebbles from my favourite seaside, the familiar rhythms of the boiler.  A symphony.

Settling straight into the routines of my home neighbourhood – tomorrow is recycling collection, so it’s back to me to take it out (my kind neighbour does this when I’m away).

Conscientiously watering plants before they die of neglect.

Warming up cherished cold corners, scented candle on the hearth, hot-water bottles in the bed, scented oils in the bathroom, a spread of chords on the too-silent piano.

Friendly things to eat – favourite tea tonight and tomorrow the prospect of my beloved favourite breakfast.

The smell of laundry.

Everywhere treasure: favourite cards, tea lights, cushions, books, mugs, chair, pillows, cosy clothes.

Catching up with connection, responding, calling, delaying, writing.  Being available to my friends and family again after days of intense focus.

Pink (seemingly outlawed from any business hotel I’ve stayed at in the last several years).

Prettyness – in delicate colours, in intricate textures, in contrast, in details, in scent, in light.

Storing my suitcase and turning back into someone who lives in their house, and who does not drag their possessions with them everywhere like a maladapted snail.

‘Pottering’; a mundane but beloved verb that rarely occurs away from home.

Presence, to myself, to my life, to now.

And thankfulness; what riches.