Wednesday, September 15, 2021

Artfully Wild Blog Along: 14 September 2021


 I have been writing - or rather, whingeing - but restricting it to my paper journal. Even then I wasn't writing every thing down: I tend to trap negative thoughts inside my head until they die, or burst out inappropriately. Yesterday I wrote out all the things that have been building up and contributing to the sensation of having a huge lump in my esophagus threatening to choke me. My grief and anxiety has  growing to the point where I have nearly passed out from not breathing - although as every parent of a tantrum-throwing toddler knows that passing out leads immediately to the resumption of breathing! The writing down of it all offered some relief, and I slept better last night. Although I still woke in the small hours, I didn't wake with racing heart, raised adrenaline levels, my first thoughts being of my unvaccinated son in Auckland, which has been the standard for the last week. Instead, I just woke, read a chapter in my book, and went back to sleep.

Today I worked on seeing good things, and on breathing. It helped.

There are so many lovely things around our home at the moment:

  • Keruru sitting in the trees, and putting on aerobatics displays in the air;
  • a tui optimistically inspecting the peach tree to see if the blossoms are open
  • the first tulip of the season - a gorgeous red;
  • a spider's web sparkling in raindrops;
  • there is blossom everywhere! Plum, peach, nectarine, pear;
  • the kowhai tree has flowers, although past experience tells me they won't last long as the keruru gobble them in one gulp;
  • even the moss has 'flowers'
  • and the golden elm is delicious
I have finished reading two wonderful books, only to find the next book I picked up is also just wonderful: I won't finish the month with a record number of books read, but the quality is impressive so far.

I chatted with two of my sons, and my 17yo grandson on FB messenger. Technology is great - I think of the lack of communication for families in the 'Spanish' flu pandemic.
My Auckland son got his first vaccination. He had booked but had been unable to get an appointment until the end of October, but with more vaccinations in the country, and more places offering vaccinations, he was able to get one today! I am so relieved. I will sleep better tonight.
I received an unexpected birthday present in the mail. It is a beautiful handmade stationery folder that she made - she is a very skilled sewer. It came with a lovely card, and a message inside that finally broke me open. I cried with appreciation and gratitude. Then I cried for all the things that have been making me sad. I have not been able to cry. I cried for my recently dead friends, and for their families, and for my personal sense of loss. I cried for my loneliness over the past few weeks, being unable to see my family and friends. I cried for our poor world which is under assault in so many ways. I cried. And then, I cried, again, in appreciation and gratitude towards my friend, Denise, for her gifts, for the release.

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6 comments:

  1. i love love love this, and I love YOU even more xxx

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  2. So many beautiful flowers! Thank you for sharing.

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  3. Sending you big hugs. That's a beautiful gift, and your flowers are lovely!

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  4. Hi Cally, I came to look for your post - thought I might have been missing them. I am glad you shared, but even more glad for your outpouring into your journals. I am sorry for the tough time you're going through, and I am thankful for the beauty you have shown us [you and nature] - a bit corny, but so sincere

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    1. I thought I should allow for different meanings in different cultures, but google seems to agree with me about the meaning of corny: trite, banal, or mawkishly sentimental. The natural world is not all earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, pandemics, dramatic vistas and thundering waterfalls. Seeing also the beauty of the smallest wonder is just as awe inspiring to me, and is what helps me put the sharp knife back in the drawer. If it seems corny, aka trite, banal, or mawkishly sentimental, to you, then I suggest you just pass on by, rather than leave comments akin to kicking the bastard while she's down.

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