Creating space.

Last week, I performed my last duty with my dementia gentleman for he has now been placed into his new care home.
My last day with him went like any other Monday I spend with him. There were no grand gestures, no speeches, no farewells. He wouldn't have understood anyway. I made sure I kept the few tears that unexpectedly escaped from my eyes discreet. Due to the degree of his condition, he had no sense of the big changes he had ahead of him. The last two years in my role as one of his carers have been enriching and fulfilling ones. The bond we formed was based on mutual respect and our communication was certainly imaginative due to the usual conventional way of interacting was often a challenge, and so gestures and facial expressions often took over where words couldn't.

Whilst the impending changes were being organised, I had initially been in haste to accept new offers of work, anxious to compensate for the loss of income. But it soon came apparent that I am not ready yet for extra responsibilities. I hadn't appreciated the emotional impact caring for someone has on ones heart and even though I treat my roles in care work professionally, to work so closely with such characters as my gentleman really affects matters of the heart and even more so when family members are also involved and one can't help but grow attached.
I am reminded of a verse in the Bible. 'A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance'.
And so with these words in mind, rather than chase after the next project, I have been giving myself permission to not only create space by holding back on new job opportunities, but also accepting the consequences of allowing the space in time. And what I am finding, is that sadness once again touches my soul. If I hadn't paused to take stock on the last two years, I believe I probably would have carried on with business. Many of us in the Western world seem to have developed a habit of filling every minute and every second of our time with 'stuff'. So often we forget to live in the present, too busy fretting about the future and we don't allow ourselves time to decompress or process our emotions so they get hidden away deep in our vaults, only for them to appear usually unannounced and out of the blue when we least expect it. 
So here I am, acknowledging the grief, accepting it for what it is, not comparing, not disallowing or ridiculing or belittling it, knowing that this too will pass.
I am in a fortunate position where I do not have to panic about where my next wage packet is coming from. My gardening job, not only provides a regular source of income, but it also brings me the therapeutic attributes of being outside. I will of course need to supplement my income at some point, but for now, I can kick off my boots and breathe deeply into the space I have in front of me and despite feeling sad I have also been able to get into my new studio and create art. What a joy this brings!
I have plenty of ideas, but for now, I won't put pressure on myself. Art for me is a way of processing change and the world around me. 
Speaking of change, a lot has happened since my last post. I have officially moved home and my old one has its interior completely demolished. I thought I would find it hard to see it gone, but standing inside as I occasionally do to follow its process, all I see is an empty building. What it used to contain, have morphed into memories that are embedded in my heart. 
I love my new home, this has become my safe and peaceful sanctuary. It is also much warmer to boot! 
And should I forget my own advice, I have a reminder written on my wall in the studio. - 
'Everyday I expand my awareness and trust in the joy of life unfolding'. 

Ripping the plaster off

The View from our new home

Up until now, I had been taking the damage limitation road to moving out. Taking the plaster off real slow has been the course of action, so anyone observing would be forgiven to believe that progress has not been made. The truth of it though, is that all my cupboards are now bare, bar the essentials to live.
Trips to charity shops, and recycling centre have been actively pursued and my new home across the river is starting to feel more and more like home, especially since my books have taken residence on the lovingly made shelves my husband created.
The reason for taking our time had been mainly for the cats. God forbid we disturbed their cosy little set up! But as explained in my last post, one of them was old and blind, to move everything at once would have been too upsetting for him and I did not want his remaining days to be distressing. At least this is what I had told myself, but as time went on, I was forced to accept that this move has been more painful than I would have initially admitted and my cats had made a convenient excuse for taking my time.
Don't get my wrong, I have been excited for new beginnings and I acknowledge my fortunate position to have a new home to go to, but as time passed, so too did my grief for what has been. It passed through in waves and as we reached crunch point of no return I was having to take stock on how to move forward without becoming a moody ungrateful emotional wreck, until one night last week after a full on meltdown, came my epiphany.

The solution was found in my Rituals; We go about life automatically, from one task to the other without giving anything much though other than to get the job done. I could have taken the decision to move everything in one go. The cats gave me a reason not to do this. But the truth of the matter was that I had not been ready for people however helpful and well-meaning, to move my possessions.
It was not as I first thought, about dismantling my home of 20 years, though of course this also felt sad to me. But it was more about the taking away of belongings by friends and family who may not have appreciated the ritualistic element to my process of clearing out my home that I had adopted since the day I began my transition across. 
So far, with every phase of my move, I had taken time alone to methodically clear out each cupboard and shelf space being mindful of what I kept and what I do not. Items that are staying with me I took time to wash, clean and dust before getting packed away. This all may read as rather anal, even obsessive behaviour, but it is much more than that.
As I sorted through things, memories of each item came to mind and as I cleaned, I gave thanks for the times spent here and after each area was cleared, I then cleansed and blessed the space left behind. It helped me to release and let go, knowing that everything that I take with me will also be given a fresh lease of life.
Now that all of the small stuff is done, I will be needing help with the bigger items. My husband is strong but I am not, so it makes sense to enlist help from friends. The other night while we were discussing the next steps, rather than explaining what was important to me, I snapped. To be fair, I don't think at that stage I even understood myself why I felt things had come to a head, for everything that I had been doing was on such a subconscious intuitive level, it hadn't even occurred to me to figure out in words what I was doing and why. So when I was knocked off centre by my husband interjecting with offers of help, it was only then, that I came to realise what it meant to me to maintain my rituals. Even in house clearance there can be sacredness, at least for me anyway and so initially I resisted the offer of  burly men to enter my home full steam ahead and load the van with my furniture. But on reflection and after some heart-based conversations with my husband, we eventually agreed on a plan of action that would honour my needs and at the same time, get the practicalities done at the same time.
So finally, we have reached the crucible of change where there can be no looking back. Yesterday we had my beloved handsome 18yr old cat put to sleep. He died peacefully at home on my lap as the tears rolled down my face. I cried for the rest of the afternoon, not only for my cat but for my home I will be imminently leaving, but then afterwards, a sense of calm came over me. 'All will be well'.

They say, as one door closes, another shall open and I believe it to be accurate. Already, offers of new work opportunities have arisen and though I am not quite in the place in both mind and in time to accept, the offers are there. I just need to focus on one day at a time.
And by the way, is there anything a bit of white vinegar and a few drops of essential oil cannot clean?!

Transitioning

24th June 2023

As I vacuumed up the last?! of the wedding confetti this week, (No one tells you that confetti, much like Christmas tree pine needles, gets everywhere and one will be discovering bits of the stuff in nooks and crannies for the next 6 months)  I find myself reminiscing on years gone by.

Now that I am married, life continues to flow just as it always had done before I became a wife. Does it feel any different people are asking me? Yes and no. In many ways my life remains unchanged. However, I am about to arrive at a crucible of change, where although from the outside everything looks the same, I feel myself at the cusp of big transitions and it feels far from the same, knowing that life will soon be looking very different.
In just a few weeks I will be disembarking from my old and familiar way of life. The one that kept me housed and safe, and the one that contained my identity for 20 years, and I shall soon be taking my first steps as  Mrs Wall in a new home. From the outside looking in, its not a big deal. After all, I'm hardly moving to Timbuktu, when all I am doing is moving from one side of the village to the other.
But when factoring all the other things in my life that are shifting and slipping away, I feel at times completely discombobulated. I keep reminding myself to release and let go, but it is hard and sometimes painful.
I look at my old cat pleading with him to let go too. A recent trip to the vets confirmed my feelings that he will not be fit enough to make the move. I am loathed to make the decision for him, especially as at this present time, he is finding simple pleasures by sleeping in the sun during the day, and then on my pillow at night. He might be blind and infirm, but he is not quite knocking at deaths door just yet. I remember when he first walked into my life over 13 years ago just a scrap of a thing. He strolled through my flat and promptly made himself at home above my cupboards for the next few months, until one day he felt safe enough to walk on the floor. He never left and became a good companion for my other stray cat I had at the time. He then became a guide for my blind Spaniel and now he has reached the ripe old age of 18+. Time flies.

In other areas of my life, it is looking very likely that my dementia gentleman I have been looking after for nearly 2 years, will be moving into a brand new Care home around the same time as I move. It is of course, a move not taken lightly by his family and has been an extremely hard decision for all concerned. This will mean another farewell to add to the mix. And I know I wont be the only carer who will miss his company when he goes. Love comes in all forms.

I have also witnessed how so many people hold onto belongings and I have seen first hand how difficult it is once they depart, for those left behind to clear their home of decades worth of stuff. It makes me more conscious than ever, that holding onto material things serves only to weigh us down. So as I prepare to make my own move, I have been clearing and sorting through years of my own possessions. In doing this process, I have decided to leave my Spaniels, Donut and Summers ashes buried in the garden. For the past two years they have sat on my shelf and I had always believed that they would go to the grave with me. But that's the thing about making a conscious decision on letting go. One arrives at a place where choices are made that weren't available before, perhaps because of either emotional or physical blockages. Or maybe the two go hand in hand. Once the emotional obstacles are cleared the physical path becomes clear too and vice versa.

And finally, to add a cherry on top of this merry mixture of letting go's I am entering the phase of a woman's life where hormones can potentially reek havoc. Perimenopause has been making the headlines a bit more these days thanks to personalities such as Davina McCall. Thankfully I have been getting successful support from Homeopathy and a healthy lifestyle. But it can still take me by surprise from time to time, as with all aspects of health, it is a constant work in progress. For me, this can mean emotions can take over, sometimes irrational and unexplainable. Night sweats as well as other strange irregular bodily functions can  take place. It is not all bad and I manage them. But it is yet another change on top of all the others.
When I arrived on the farm at the tender age of 26, in Archetypal representations, I was still a Maiden. During the 20 year period, I then became a Mother to my animals and I gave birth to my artistic side as I continued to nurture my creativity. And now, as I approach my Crone years. I see myself on the threshold of something even bigger. As I stand at the doorway from the old into the new, I wonder how the next chapter in life will unfold. I count my blessings everyday, knowing too well, that nothing in life is guaranteed, as I witness good friends of mine living and dying with terminal illnesses. Too young to die - and yet here we are. Life can be cruel.

The date of my wedding day was no accident. I announced to my Fiancé at Christmas time that we should be married in 6 months, I told him that I wanted the people I care about still alive to witness our marriage. It was also no coincidence that it was held on a most auspicious date, not only because it was my 47th birthday but it being Midsummers day. I have always considered it to be a magical and mystical time of year. What better time then, to set ourselves off on a brand new adventure surrounded by love and joyful celebrations shared by not only our friends and family, but with the whole village too. 
So as I begin to unfurl my wings, with my heart wide open, I am learning to reach an acceptance that everything must and will change. Goodbyes are inevitable.
One-day if fate allows, I will become that 'Crone', channelling her wisdom and inner knowing. And I shall wear my crown unabashedly, transforming the world in my wake.
In other words, my life's mission will be as it was always intended, 'Creative Community Collaborator'.
And Quirky Cow Creations will live on, just at a different address.
Meanwhile, it is ok to be both sad and excited. As I am recently finding out, these feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive to one another. 

  

It's only a ring!

“It’s only a ring”, I kept saying to my fiancé as we were discussing the budget for our wedding rings. As far as we were concerned, the much-needed renovation to our future home prioritized over some potentially expensive items of significance, when copper pipe would do just the job we joked.

As human beings, we put so much meaning into things. From possessions to thoughts, to even the way other people respond to us, when really, these ideas are formed from our own perspectives, belief systems and past experiences. We are conditioned from the very moment we are born. So why should it matter so much?
And this was the very question I asked myself as we walked away from a particular jeweller's shop in town last weekend.
Earlier that week, we had agreed to go shopping for our rings. Having already decided that we would eventually put money aside and commission a friend to make them as an anniversary gift to each other, in the meantime, we would look for something within our current budget for our wedding ceremony.
After passing two very high-end looking jewellers and then one very tacky, we finally settled on a shop with an assistant who welcomed us in with a warm smile.
She very quickly sized us up and laid out a selection of rings to choose from.
Steve chose his ring straight away. The ring I really liked was out of our price range, so we went away to have a discussion.
By my own omission. I hadn’t appreciated how much emotional charge I had for the very act in wearing a wedding ring and it was only in the middle of the high street that I was enlightened by this fact and chose that very moment to unintentionally burst into tears.
I have never been one to cry easily. (Admittedly Peri-menopausal hormones seem to have put pay to that and more recently, the tears seem to flow more readily and at times, rather unnervingly quite out of the blue) But nonetheless, in that moment tears welled up to the point where Steve who was on a mission to find somewhere to eat, was stopped in his tracks quite perplexed by my emotional outburst and being delayed in his mission to fill his belly.
And so there it was, a heartfelt conversation ensued in the middle of the high street on what it meant to me to wear such a symbolic piece of jewellery that was to be presented to me by my husband, whilst at the same time, acknowledging that it is only a ritual and the main act being the exchanging of rings was a symbolism of our love and commitment to one another and it shouldn’t matter what price tag it comes with. So with all this in mind, I had to admit to both myself and to Steve, that actually some things in my view, were worth more value when I felt a price tag to match was attached.
Of course, it is all relative and what value I put on something may be completely different to somebody else’s. In my world, money would be obsolete. I would bring back bartering, live more frugally and appreciate the simple things in life. So, I realize that I have completely contradicted myself by expressing the desire for a more expensive ring when as we agreed earlier, a piece of copper pipe would suffice.
So given all the complex feelings I had around said ring, my already overwhelmed mind, then went on to procrastinate on the ethical sourcing of metals. Sensing a full-on meltdown was imminent, we decided to return to the jewellers and agree on my first (and pricier) option of ring.
In fairness though, the particular ring I liked, felt nicer to hold, it exuded sturdiness whilst at the same time, dainty to look at. The next options down felt flimsy. A marriage should not be flimsy let alone a ring.
On returning to the shop, and as if the universe was overhearing our honest and open discussion earlier and I’d like to think, appreciating the authenticity and awareness of what it is to be human with all its complexities and idiocies, it acted through the lovely assistant by giving us a discount which as it happened came to our initial budget.
What is the lesson for this experience I wonder? Maybe it's just accepting that none of us can be perfect despite how hard we try. That is not to say we shouldn’t stop trying, but maybe it is ok to allow ourselves to enjoy the more frivolous side of life. Maybe it is just me. I shouldn’t keep giving myself a hard time. Existing in this world is hard enough at times without the constant berating of oneself. We can but do our best, knowing that occasionally even our best isn’t always good enough and that is ok.
And if one is religiously inclined, quite frankly, it will be our God that sits at the judgement table when it is our time to die and nobody else's.

In the meantime, I love and accept myself anyway…

Moving on...

 

Everybody likes a good story, right?

Imagine if you will, the most beautiful, exquisitely tactile storybook cover you have ever come across. Run your hands along the front and you will feel the threaded beads and sequins that have been lovingly added to over the years. They glitter and sparkle as the light hits upon the front, ricocheting rainbows beams far and wide. You can’t help but hold it tightly and lovingly to your heart.

This particular book cover contains pages upon pages of words and they dance upon the paper like spells, conjuring up magic and mystery for all who step into the tales of the Quirky Cow.

The storyline has its main character and like all good books, it has a beginning, a middle and at some point, as the law of life dictates, an end.

The general plot has its tragedies, adversities, and its triumphs. And there are stories within stories woven together with love and gratitude.

This book is a biography, and for the purpose of this particular chapter, the readers are not required to know about the contents of said book. That can be saved for another day.

What is most pressing for the writer to convey in this moment, is the special and unique way the pages have been held together with careful stitching and meticulous gluing over the years. Some pages are torn and stained, but they only add to the charm. The book cover is well thumbed, acting as a comforter during challenging times. It contains all the knowledge and the wisdom the author has learnt over the years and has become as familiar as a faithful old friend.  Breathing in the smell as I thumb through the pages reminds me of how far I have come and how far I have evolved.

But as with all things in life, and just like a good book, they must come to an end and as difficult as it may be. One must let go.

As the author, I need to express that this ending was unexpected, and I was unprepared. Somehow, in my naivety, the story was to continue in the manner and style I have always been accustomed to, and I did not feel ready to end in the way it has happened. Marriage and weddings and home sharing were never jotted down in my most recent draft. Striving out alone, living unorthodoxly, tenaciously creating magic single-handedly, proving to the world that anything is possible, however, was.

I never imagined that finding true love would change the course of time. Indeed, writing a romantic novel certainly was the furthest from my mind.

So now, despite my resistance, a thread has been broken and it is only now that it dawns on me, it was because of my resistance, that the carefully sewn stitches finally snap and starts to unravel my precious book. All the painstakingly pieced together pages fall apart.

Initially, I grappled about desperately holding on to my precious manuscript for dear life. I thought I could see the life that I knew ebbing rapidly away. But as I breathe deeply, I allow myself to let go in peace and relinquish the false belief that I have things in my control, in each breath, I discover that all may not be lost. Pages have not flown away lost forever in the ether, but rather they are retained cozily within their colourfully stitched indexes.

My well-worn book cover has loosened its binding enough to make room for new pages. I shall miss the familiarity and the comfort of my old book cover. I came to identify myself with it. Who am I without it?

But as I sit with the pain of letting go, I slowly become aware that the essence of who I am is within the pages and not their bounded cover. I discover, some of its vibrant colour have bled through some pages. Forever immortalized by transmuting energy from which it was created, into the new.

There will still be times when I weep and feel bereft for what once was. But I shall remember the old times and as with any good author, I will continue to write and weave my magic. This time, not as a solo dreamer, but inspired and motivated by my muse, my future husband, and so from our dreams together, a new volume will arise, updated and fresh.

The stories will rewrite themselves, filled with even more love and gratitude. Together we will collaborate and create a brand-new cover that will lovingly cradle our dreams and our visions, we will be invincible, and our book will be indestructible.

My book cover does not define my identity. The contents inside are what matters.

March 2023

Preserving Life

 Most of us go about our daily lives to preserve them. We are fortunate enough in the UK to have free access to medical and dental care. We undertake routine smear tests, and breast and prostate examinations and currently we have been rolling out Vaccinations for Covid and Flu as part of the routine procedures to help prolong our life.
In addition to all of this, many of us choose to look after our health through, exercise, eating well, not smoking or drinking to excess etc.
Those who are lucky enough to be in a position to be financially able, may also choose to go to the gym, join mediation classes, breathwork, or yoga etc. We could also choose to see a Nutritionist, Acupuncture, a Herbalist, the list goes on.
There is a whole array of techniques and practices we can utilise to help keep us in tip top condition. If only the NHS could be better funded to allow for everyone to access more holistic practices that focus on the idea of homeostasis, (viewing the body as a whole living system rather than just symptom's alone) Perhaps we would find our society in a better place, not only physically but mentally and emotionally too.
Because lets not forget, fear and stress are the biggest factors in lowering the immune system. 

Medical intervention is not right for everyone. And for those who are informed and feel confident enough to give consent, it is not uncommon to use both holistic and conventional practices at the same time, the two are not mutually exclusive, though of course, some may opt for just one or the other, or even nothing at all. It is their choice.

There are many reasons why people do not get vaccinated. One of them could be that the fear of becoming sick or dying from getting vaccinated far outweighs the fear of becoming ill from a virus itself. 
Just because our fears may differ, it does not make them less real, valid or true. We are all trying to do our best in extra-ordinary circumstances.
Some people may be extremely sensitive to drugs. For those people, they may make an educated and balanced decision to decline the vaccination until more conclusive evidence is made available. And then when doing so, perhaps many will be enquiring as to the integrity of such findings.
Others may have witnessed members of their family undergo traumatic adverse reactions to a vaccine or have even experienced it themselves. And when i say this, I dont mean a just sore arm and flu like symptoms for a day or two. I mean the kind that land you in a situation where you or a loved one are calling the emergency services, praying that its not too late.
Similarly, one may have developed life changing side affects and do not wish to take any such risk again. As someone who has been injured through a low risk procedure, these are very real concerns for many.
Some may choose to look at the data and decide that taking a gamble on a medical procedure that has no guarantee of preventing one from spreading it or catching it, is too much of a high stake, when no medical intervention can ever be without a risk.
Life is full of risks Dying is inevitable. Perhaps we should be looking at what constitutes a good death as well as a good life and maybe, just maybe we can begin to hold conversations around how we can begin to empathise and accept another persons medical decisions.
All I know is that there is far too much anger and resentment towards one another. The current climate means that any conversation of an alternative narrative quickly gets shut down.
There is fear on all sides. All are justified and no less or no more equal than another.
I see members of my own community quite willing to segregate one another on the basis of a vaccine status. I am saddened to see our society breaking down through personal choices. Of course, we must accept the consequences, but to be living under the threat of being barred from a large proportion of everyday life including shopping. How can this be a reasonable action in the twenty first century when the vaccinated are no less dangerous than the unvaccinated? 
We should preserve life of course, but at what cost? It is worth noting that it has already been reported that there has been a surge of non Covid related deaths. We seem to have forgotten our rationale and humanity.
How far are we willing to go? Because the way we are heading, life isn't going to be worth fighting for if we are no longer able to accept one another's differences.

Gratitude

'We should be grateful', is a phrase bantered about a lot these days.
 I get the sentiment. We can all be guilty of being morose from time to time. Being grateful for the small mercies, gives us perspective in that moment in time. It can remind us that things aren't always that bad.

However, I am becoming increasingly aware that this phrase to justify our privilege is getting used without awareness. It has become insidious.

By this I mean, it is all too easy to brush off very current and very real concerns. By telling somebody that they should be grateful is completely invalidating that persons concerns.
To be grateful, suggests that there must be a lack for someone else.
In this current climate, where the net is drawing tighter and tighter with regards to our freedom and liberty, to attempt to raise any kind of concern that things are not as they were, and then to be told we should be grateful for what we have, is not conducive to making a conscious change.
It allows us to become complacent and it breeds apathy.
How can we begin to strive for greater achievements and to do better in society when we are constantly shut down by being told we should be grateful for our lot? 

It is of course, scientifically proven that to express gratitude everyday re-wires the brain, causing chemical changes to help us towards positive thinking.
Counting our blessings is a good thing. To be in gratitude reminds us to be in the present.
However, what if we are without food, or shelter, what if we are quite literally in fight or flight mode how does it feel to acknowledge that there are indeed many thousands in this very position now? How then, can we be in gratitude and at peace knowing that others are going without?  What can our gratitude possibly bring to the table?
So I will contest gratitude. Not because I do not believe that it works, but because I need to keep it real.
Perhaps we can do better than to be in gratitude.
Perhaps we can dive deeper into the realms of love and connection. Gratitude feels too materialistic. Gratitude is feeling safe and comfortable, how can it be felt otherwise? If we are not feeling those things, then surely we are merely bypassing? How can we possibly feel gratitude in times of strife and by strife, I mean do or die...
One could argue that love and gratitude comes hand in hand. that is as may be. Perhaps feeling gratitude leads us onto the path of love. But is it possible that gratitude detaches us from one another? I am ok. (but you may not be?)
Gratitude feels conditional. Love, And I mean real love is not.
'To Be Love'. Is to be free.
So this is where I am at. I still have periods of feeling overwhelmed, fearful and frustrated for my fellow beings.
I am grateful for my health, the food on my plate, the air that I breathe and for so many things. But these do not bring me peace. Love however, does.
Love is to understand that we are so much more than this.
To understand that we are all connected through our higher consciousness no matter what our stance we take in this life. That is love. It is unabashed and unafraid.
We are all made of energy matter. In this energy field we are all interconnected.
So what do you bring to the table with your gratitude if this is what you practice? What changes can be made with our expressions of gratitude?