t'was several nights after christmas

... and the first quiet day after all of the Bigger Days of excitement. After our final Christmas guests left today, Isaac, flopped out so so tired, got cold (wrapped up in my scarf) and cried over a few things (like the tree, outside and without it's finery, used up and depleted). The splendid winter-white is replaced with the melted richer hues of brown and earth and moss. Reality and earth after the unrealness of magic-at-Christmas.



No Big Day photos at all. I just abandoned my camera and gave myself up to the flow of the days. They swallowed me whole but in a good way. Consumed and tired. I think next year will be one of pairing back, which we do every year but this one felt like The last One of its' sort. I don't want wrapping paper that neither cannot be recycled nor turns to tinfoil in the fire(!). Our tree will have roots and grow with our family. There will be both less and more. I know this in a kindly, easy way. It's not a guilt trip, it's just a gradual shift over these last years of family Christmas.



Which made my birthday, yesterday (31st) so relaxing and luxurious by comparison. It was totally lovely, unexpected and I didn't have to do anything (hardly) for anyone else (unreal!). Breakfast in bed made by Isaac, the keen chef; buckwheat pancakes with scrambled eggs and then some with blueberry jam. Cups of tea, hand made cards, thoughtful gifts and a long lie-in reading new books. My Man and I had a meal out last night at a very lovely place, we hardly *ever* go out, this was maybe the second or third time for us to be out alone in the last three years. So it's ultra special. I am always reminded of why I love him when we get to spend time alone. When there is only each other to luxuriate in, no little people to keep an eye over, conversation can actually go at it's own pace, winding this way and that without interruption (what a luxury in it's own right!). I forget how it is in adult company.... it's rather nice :) My dh surprised me with a beautiful new skirt and tights from White Stuff. I don't think he has ever bought me clothes before just for pleasure and I enjoyed seeing and wearing his selection. Don't think I would ever have picked them but they are so pretty (and the right size!). Christmas time my dh and I try to keep things so small with each other, a knitted item or books, on birthday's we let loose a bit more and aim to please each other.



So today was our first quiet day in nearly a week of cheer and feasting and visiting families. We all relaxed, watched a film, played some games. I tidied up and rearranged the furniture, finding spaces for new toys and games. A pause. We let a big Chinese lantern float up outside tonight in the dark. It was a nice way to collect ourselves together in our little family unit again. Esmé and Felix slid their hands into mine and we gazed heavenwards, making wishes and wondering what tomorrow will bring. For me I go and find out the results of my biopsy. Fingers crossed I can light another lantern tomorrow night and count my blessings all over again.





The Beauty made me laugh, overcome with the tiring burden of new toys she said she felt sad, stripped off naked and had me wrap her in my daily scarf (what is it with my scarf - all my kids want it when they don't feel good!), swaddled she popped on her daddy's freshly knitted hat and was ready to look suitably vulnerable, beautiful and sad. Honest, I am not some weirdo that takes photos of their kids' crying rather than comfort them - she was like this for so long she made us all laugh. Then I took us both off upstairs for a green Tinti tinted bath whereupon the usual smiles and baby-laughter prevailed.



~ Booby-Girl with the horrendous but much loved - non Christmas related Disco Doll ~

eve

~~ Merry Christmas! ~~

unexpected gifts

It was not how I expected it to be. It was violent and intrusive and painful. I had to do that awful thing you do when something terrible is happening to your body that you cannot stop - turn your head the other way and pretend it's not happening. Squeeze your eyes shut and focus on a dirt smudge on the wall, force your mind to think something else. Only a few times it's happened in my life, but this was one of them. At first I tried to let myself be very present. Breathe deeply and closed my eyes, relaxing. But it didn't happen. My bubble of white light surrounding me burst and I left trembling. My breast is bandaged, bleeding and bruised. The machine was like a rifle and also like a staple gun (in sound too as it punched and pulled tissue samples from my tender little breast). It was a large needle biopsy rather than small. It looked frickin massive though, like a war machine. I am a total wimp, that much is obvious, faced with hospitals. They say I might have a permanent milk leak from the site of incision. That a channel created this way often will not heal. I feel kind of violated in a way I didn't imagine this sort of procedure would make me feel. Are all hospital dealings destined to leave me feeling this way? Do they for everyone? I can't think of one that has done anything other. I have to go back in a week or so for the results, what a bastard. In the meantime I will nurse my sore sad looking little breast with st johns wort oil and be thankful I have one to nurse. I will drink darkest night and pungent nettle and be thankful again for it's nourishing.











I still think/feel the lump is benign. Which makes me feel more that I have let myself down to be handled this way. But what other option was there to be made this day? It's done and over. I have a headache. And a breast-ache. I am hopeful that today can be calm, but my children do bounce so. I feel a deep deep need to rest. Mind and body. A bone aching need for solitude of some sort and peace. My days seem so filled with hustle and tumble and bustle and while it's all so lovely to have children marvelling at the world, and being part of their ongoing adventure, I don't feel much space for myself to just be, well myself. I often wonder if this is why I read so much - to loose myself in the lives and businesses of others. To escape? If so I welcome it.











The snow is as greedy as ever and hungrily devours the landscape, hiding all that is usually clear and visible. Being so empty I feel I shall soon be filled and bountiful enough again to want to fill others. For now I am not, I am interested in this new place and am taking time to look around the bleakness and waiting to (re)discover riches and warmth again. It will come. I am sure. As sure as the coming of Spring always follows Winter and the blanket that covers everything so entirely lifts away.



I did take time outside alone last night. I was clad head to two (ironically) not in wolf clothing but sheepskin. The slaughtered rather than the huntress, ha. I walked under a lightened dark sky, alone in the snow and broke of branches of pine to decorate the house with. I snipped the tinniest miniature snowflakes indoors of sharp precision. I can see, even in the clouds. Whatever is - is whatever is. All is, and therefore is fine. Everything brings gifts. This season I am learning that. What gifts and insights can this new thing bring me? What can I learn about myself? What does it reflect? How can it lead to more joy and lightness? What can I change to meet these new needs? These are all good questions for me. In order to give I must let myself receive and be filled. I really feel that the universe gives us exactly what we need. Whatever these things are enrich us in ways we need in order to become who we must (horrible, violent or emotional, upsetting, tragic, depressing) hidden or not so, meanings and gifts are there for the taking. Mostly I am finding that I need to see and find joy in the little things. Because the little things all add together to create the whole and then joy is in all places. Depression and despair and emptiness might be the turning points towards radical transformation. Who knows. I feel it's true.

maybe I'm crazy, probably

Christmas - the time of joy and giving, families and all of that stuff. Except this week I have felt utterly flat. Why? I have this lovely family all around me, a man who loves me, the 'real' things..... handsome tree, fire, home made mince pies even (regardless that they are filled with the gluten I can't eat, hey ho, never much liked them anyway but pretty glad they are made for all else who wants them). Why so flat? My chest splits and cracks and coughs a lot. Don't know why.... don't think there's much inflammation going on for me right now, probably just one of those things, don't feel too worried by my health, can't be that. Lovely needle biopsy of breast lump tomorrow in the hospital - could it be that? .... Nope don't think so, feel pretty ok about that to be truthful. Just doesn't intuitively feel I have anything to worry about where my breasts are concerned. Yes I have had a lump for two months or more, it's softish and movable. Pea sized. BUT I have been breastfeeding now for a decade. And have had a few pregnancies scattered through that time too. I started breeding at a tender age, I eat jolly well, statistically these things all point to my being fine. I lie and meditate, trying to feel my way to seeking the answers to pretty much anything that comes up for me. Since I am mentioning it, this meditation, I'll write down what I do as it's pretty relaxing and helpful.

~~~~~~~~~~
A meditation with the Wise One, ie, yourself

Close your eyes and breathe long and deeply until you feel very relaxed. If thoughts come and go just let them, recognise and them move on (like, yeah, ok I am thinking about the Christmas crackers I should/could have made but didn't, ok, fine, I'll breathe again now and let it go). Get your breathe into this nice swinging movement, imagine you are rowing a little boat all alone on a beautiful calm lake, heading towards a centre island. Or if you are someone shit-scared of boats or water, imagine you are striding across beautiful land to point just over the brow of a hill, or towards a cave. You reach the shore, you are there. Imagine your boat hitting little stones, the mud and grassy tufts. Yourself stepping ashore. Some one waits for you, utterly glad to see you, with arms open. Who is this person/entity? S/he is the Inner healer. For me she is a beautiful old woman, with long white braided hair. She looks a bit like a midwife I once had. You could give her a gift, a small stone or your smile or just yourself. Either way she is so happy to see you. You sit together and she asks you why you have come. Have you been visiting her often enough? There is no guilt in this, just a gentle question, she is always happy to see you no matter how few or often your visits. Can you sit quietly and wait. Maybe you have no specific concern this time or question, wait and see what flows to your calm self, of from her. Do you have any questions or issues that are bothering you? You can ask for her advice. Her words always resonate with Truth. She places her hands on you. She is filled with an amazing white brilliant light. She touches you and the light gets brighter. You ask her, or tell her your concern. She listens fully with a total quality of Love. It might be different to what you imagined it to be, your concern. You might only have to think it. Ask for healing. As soon as you do the light floods out of her into you, it fills your every inch. Maybe it sweeps through you slowly head to foot, maybe it starts at your centre and spreads out, maybe it enters at a point in your body you are worried about. The light that needs to heal specifically is bright pink and sparkly. Imagine it sweeping and healing and relaxing your body. The light gets so strong emanating from your Healer it moves towards you and eventually becomes you. It stays there and you are both one being. After while bathed in this pure healing energy, you wake up and open your eyes and let your new reality begin. The healer is within you as she always was and will be. Visit her again. Embellish this, take away, make it your own.

~~~~~~~~~~

Okaaaayyy. So yeah. That's what I do when I am anxious, about anything, usually at night in bed, additionally it often makes me fall asleep which is nice. I always get good answers (which is what happens when you talk to yourself, as we all know) :)



It is the solstice today. We have been dong nice things this week. I make the house look pretty and fill it with nice smells. I string fairy lights in unusual places that make me feel cosy. I make myself tea and foods I enjoy (raspberry leaf, soup...) I spent a satisfying half hour yesterday vacuuming the downstairs ceilings (one word for why this was necessary: beams) and at the same time pondering on why the cat food was described as having 'real fish' in it. As opposed to what? Mystifying. Pretend fish flavouring on globulus of unidentified industrial food waste?



Yesterday had a satisfying encounter with the manager in the Co op. I'll tell you why; tulips. I have had no bought flowers this year (that I can remember) and saw this last bunch of purple tulips, their display date was out and so I asked a guy working there (who turned out to be the manager) if he could knock them into being half price. He said no, and that since they were 'out of date' he couldn't sell them to me at all. Well what will you do with them I asked him. Bin them was his answer. So even though I will give you, say a pound for them, you would rather throw them in the bin? Company policy he said. I felt outraged. This it ridiculous, I really want to speak to the manager, please could you find him (yes I said him, which just goes to show how my culturally ingrained self still thinks all managers are men), this is the stupidest rule ever, and I'd like to buy these flowers. Today, right now at a dsicount price. So after a tussle and bustle and provoking on my part he shuffled off for ten minutes and returned with a new label that said £1 rather than £5. Just between you and me he said. Crazy friggin world I said, but thanks. Really I should have yawned and said, sorry, changed my mind :)



I made a wreath with twisted willow and holly from the ancient holly tree nearby. It was absorbing, I quite liked doing it, I'd have made two if it were not for the numb finger syndrome that crept over me. There's my craft of the day. My man thought I'd bought it, so it was nice to tell him, no, it's a freebie, just for you!



We had a play in the thick snow in the dark and cloudy moonlight, for a good bedtime hour yesterday. It was a harsh beautiful hushed up world in my dark garden. I pulled The Beauty fast through the dark-light night in her red plastic sledge and she shrieked with the laughter of a two year old. The sort that makes you want to pretend you are two too and throw yourself on the ground and make a snow angel. To stay there and let the snow drift down over you, covering you totally. How does it feel to run through the snow with bare feet? How does it feel to lie in the snow and watch it spinning down over you? Do we live in a black and white world now, like in the olden days? Felix wanted to know. Yes I told him as solemnly as he asked. We really do, (just when it snows).



Today we shall make a log look pretty with coloured wool, glitter and such and burn it in the fire tonight. I shall genuinely be happy, walk through the snow, with children and sledges and trailing mittens. I will make celeriac soup later. Maybe gaze at the full moon (should the clouds pass), hope that the man makes it home again. I will do these things with a full heart. But at the same time it's empty too. How can it be? What is 'wrong' with me? Anything? Nothing? Everything? The boys love this song right now. A bona-fide crazy person we sorta know reminded us of it. It very adequately describes myself sometimes. Go on, play it and and dance around for a bit. Maybe I will run with the wolves tonight. Why wolves? I seem to think about wolves an awful lot lately. Wouldn't that be nice? I can accept that I feel this strange way but it puzzles me too.

Merry Solstice. (Or not.) Will you run with the Wolves? Join me under the moon in the snow. Sisters of mine, world over. Namaste. I wish you just a bit of craziness too. It helps balance out the rest doesn't it. Don't contain everything too much. I can't. Wouldn't. The lady talking to herself on the street corner might one day be me. Or you, or my daughter. I'll love you all the same. Every bit. Our inner healers and selves I sometimes think are all one. Which I why I know you'll understand this whole weird post.



Bless your soul, especially those not in control :) If you ever think you might be the tiniest bit crazy, probably you are. It's ok. I'll go out on a limb and say yeah, its not always a bad place to be.

the only girl in the world with one (the skirt that is)

After I saw this cute cute hat over on Kat's blog Slugs on the Refrigerator I needed to make one. I followed the instructions for the double knit in a six month size. And it fits my nearly three year old. Hmmm. Me or the pattern? No idea. Actually all signs would point to me, as I still have yet to knit a gauge swab, or whatever they are called. Maybe they are called the-time-waster-at-the-start-of every-knit... or not. But it's all ok as the designated new owner of this has a sister of the same age as The Beauty so she can have it instead. Funnily enough the flower on the side of the hat is a felted one from no other than the above mentioned Kat herself. Pondering on the lack of functioning in the part of my brain that handles crochet it was fortuitous indeed that I found this flower. Big phew moment. Knitted flowers just don't quite look right to me. This is of course the free pattern aviatrix. It's knit from the last half of a skein of O-Wool sent from my sweet old time friend Melody. I changed the straps too, I prefer ties to buttons.



I have moved the sewing machine so the boys can use it's former room, and now it has a new place in a quiet bedroom nook. This meant that before breakfast this morning I was at my machine with a lovely piece of sky blue genuine Harris Tweed. I like this so much and am very grateful for it's gifting from the lovely Jacqui over at the interrupted gardener. I think The Beauty may be the only two year old in the World with a Harris Tweed Lazy Day Skirt. Is it true? I like to think so. If not, let me know. I made it purposely long so she could wear it next year too. I mean, it's wool, it needs at least two years worth of wear in my book. Hopefully I can find another quirky girly to pass it on too when this one outgrows it. It is totally delicious and I want one. I asked if she might model it for me. She said NO. So I just squeezed a couple of pictures while she pranced about.

today is a good day to

Every day, we dance a dance with death along side our every step. It's our inevitable, certain destiny (not that we like thinking about it much). How we get to it is the unpredictable bit. But all the same we can ask - is today a good day to die? Would it be? Meaning that if today was that final day would we have regrets? Have we been living the life we always wanted to? Are we? Right now? We could, right? Are we authentic and truthful with ourselves and our loves? Can we embrace the wholeness of this day and our bodies *exactly as they are* in whatever version of health/wholeness we choose to view from? I once read that luck was just a choice. Is it?

I am trying to throwing away the labels I have burdened myself with, identified myself even. They are not helpful. They cause me fear, regret, anxiety, heaviness. There is only ever today, and who I am right now. That I can cope with just fine. We can always cope with the present moment and what it brings, what it is. It's tomorrow or next year, the mind dwelling in that uncertain time gap (between the now and then) that we can't handle (who can? It's the utter unknown, the void...). I know people who say I am such and such and I have X disease and I think whoa! Slow down, how can you live with this as your identity? It's not true. You are not your disease, your illness. You are not even your body, not really, nor your thoughts or feelings. It's so unhelpful to identify with these as our true selves. They all come and go, the true us, *you*, has no formed definition. We get glimpses, in our joy of this true radiance that's our primitive, yet ultra evolved and higher selves... This is who we really are. The joy. It's as simple as joy. And as difficult to achieve when we are weighed down with our own self-given labels. How often do you think - I can't do that, I am not good at sewing... or I am so impatient with my kids, I am not good enough for them..... I wish I didn't have this illness, if I didn't I'd be the person I always wanted to be... bollocks. All of these unhelpful labels. You are who you are right this very second, right NOW. That is all. It's all you ever need to be, you are always the best version of yourself. You *can* be. Now, not tomorrow when you imagine you might have X and Y and everything will change for you. Who you were ten minutes ago when you felt pissed off is not *you* right now. Every second is a fresh slate. Every second you are reborn. If you let yourself be. We can all choose freedom. Everyone. Every single person. It's a mind state, not a state of being. Children have it, and it can be taken from them. They need, we all do as we grow, to cultivate it's presence in our soul. The freedom to be free. Every day teach your kids they are someone beautiful Or better still don't take away what they already have (hard yeah?). When you act from that place of moment-joy your thoughts and actions are transformed into joy. Moment to moment living. The only real time, the only time any of us ever have. Yesterday was a dream, gone as such dreams go. Tomorrow may never ever come. When death dances with us and we see it, embrace it and look at it hard and long and realise it's not the *worst* that could happen. It's as part of us now as breathing. We are not in control of it dancing to take us towards some new place (no matter how well we eat). We can hold it's hand, love what it brings us towards within ourselves and enjoy the ride.

Us women, daily run with the wolves. Having children takes you to a whole new place of fear and panic and anxiety, every direction. Promises to fuck everyone up, if you take the wrong route, or backtrack too many times. Don't be afraid to run with them. They don't bite. The running makes you faster and stronger, and when you look, every single one of us are dancing with the same wolves. And really they are ghostly shapes by your side, poke them and they turn to puffs of smoke.











They were my thoughts in bed last night and I still feel them today, only in the cold hard light of day they are lesser so. Real life infringes. But at breakfast The Beauty brought me her favourite game. We played, then she brought domino's, and we played, her with blueberries, me with tea. She and I played cards and I went to look for Max (could she cope with that?) looking for it I saw the beeswax sheet I had left out about three weeks ago (yep, I don't like going into the messy catch all room). So we made candles. The morning flowed and flowed like silk, with no effort, one of those rare things with multiple children around. And so gifts were made for people I had not yet thought what to give to. Doesn't everyone love a hand rolled beeswax candle? Use them, I urge people when we give them. Use them! Don't let them gather dust! there's no more wonderful a day than this one for celebrating. You, me, us.



I made a couple of skirts yesterday. This is Esmé wearing the smaller one, (couldn't get Felix to model his cousin's bigger one but he was keen to model his Star Wars effect, as shown above, complete with fierce face). Scandinavian looking Christmas blue skirts were my aim. It was very satisfying time spent, even if they were sewn in about five ten minute sessions with Lego all over my feet and a girl constantly trying (and trying me) by pressing the sew-backwards pedal. But they are done and I am mightily pleased with them. The print is a Swedish one, with no toxic dyes or anything, 100% cotton and from Fabric Rehab. The pattern is the super fast and easy and pretty Lazy Day Skirt. There is nothing hard about his pattern, use it once and you'll be hooked. Time pressed mama's with little girls (or big ones (I kinda want one but fear elasticated waists would only enhance mine - vain or what!) take heed - they are GOOD. In a simple simple easy way. The red ribbon I bought locally on a cute wheel roll and was within half an inch of running out. But it was a kind day and I did not. I didn't have any left to make Esmé one, and she really wants one, so looks like I will have to try and summon up another some how.