Clearing Up

I’m 75, and getting creaky. My knees and shoulders are, as my mother would say of anything on its way out, “Going Home!” So I’m clearing up before I clear out. I have documents scattered about on hard drives and apps here and there that are fit only to be deleted, but a few, like these, that I want to keep, and this is a good a place as any. here goes: 

First Prize! Abby and Eric’s Wedding 2015

The Murder Mystery was great fun.

Qute a simple format really.  One of the company was in character from the outset as a detective, who came round and jollied us all up, informing everyone how he had arrested me for soliciting etc., etc.

As we sat down to eat, he announced that a body had been found in a dumpster near the Studio (Studio East, where we were, is the Stage School and theatre where the bride and groom work...) He then interviewed about ten of the family and guests, with embarrassing photos pointed questions and humourous asides... During a tour of the studio, another murder took place on the stage which we all witnessed.

We were hustled back to the event room where we were based, and had to write down who we thought the murderer was.  My explanation won the game and I received a prize! A pair of handcuffs! The company are professionals, who usually do this on cruises.

Today, or practically yesterday in the UK,is The Big Day. 

Farmer's Market at 9am to collect flowers, Ceremont at 1230, Photographs and lunch to follow, then an evening do that involves kareoke.  OMG! Darlene emailed the worst drinking song I have ever set eyes on to learn, 'Red Solo Cup' which actually contains the word 'testicles', which I shall sing as 'spectacles', just because I can. I have no objection to the word as such, but I am not given to singing it, believing such an action to be in poor taste. No poorer that the rest of the song, though, in fact it's not the worst line by miles.

(This laptop doesn't have 'Word' so I'm typing this in Notepad. No spellchecker! So you may have undetected typos here and there, especially as I can't get full screen either!)

I went to Marymoor Park yesterday. It was the middle of the day and around 35 C so I didn't st

 Charlie Chaplin on his 70th birthday:

 As I Began to Love Myself 

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY“ 

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody as I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me.Today I call it “RESPECT“. 

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life, and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow.Today I call it “Maturity“.

 As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens at the exactly right moment, so I could be calm. Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE“.

 As I began to love myself I quit steeling my own time, and I stopped designing huge projects for the future. Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY“. 

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything the drew me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF“.

 As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is “MODESTY“.

 As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING is happening.  Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT“.

 As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me and it can make me sick. But As I connected it to my heart, my mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART“.

 We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born. Today I know THAT IS “LIFE“!

Hubris

Written after a morning with Gloucester City Mission 2019 

Hubris. I have one friend who will be able to tell me whether I should be using 'Nemesis' instead, (Good Morning, Iris!) but hey! I shall stick with hubris for the moment.

I have been ill. Not seriously, just ill enough to discount all my blessings and do a little wallowing in self-pity, with a side order or regretting past mistakes, and a huge helping of wanting what I can't have.  I am a whisker away from harming others, if tongue-lashing my husband for his shortcomings counts, and he would say that it does. In short, I write breezily about resisting these activities as a waste of life, just days before reaching for all of them as a palliative for a minor stomach upset. Brought on, I confess, by a surfeit of left-over Christmas goodies: Don't feel sorry for me. 

I have to laugh. I get to this point, from time to time, when I begin to believe my own publicity. 'Oh look at you,' I tell myself admiringly, 'You have it all together. So erudite, so compassionate, so wise!'

 Bollocks.

I ought to stop there, but the urge to make something out of my experience for the benefit of  humankind is just too irresistible.

I sat with someone with real problems yesterday. We talked about the Higgs Boson, the ludicrous antics of our government, the state of Israel, the raving lunacy  of fundamentalists ( He a Jew, I a Roman Catholic) and we laughed at it all.  

Sitting down with a cup of tea and giving away time didn't cure his depression or my stomach ache, but afterwards, we both felt a little bit lighter.

We salvaged a moment.

An Extraordinary Day

 There is nothing special about housework, essential as it is. It's a hot day. and the kitchen door is wide open. The afternoon sun is streaming through. Out of the corner of my eye I became aware of movement, and looking up from the dusting. I saw a dragonfly.

A dragonfly in the kitchen is sufficiently unique, but this surpassed unique. It was at least 10cms long. i stepped briskly into the kitchen to take a closer look. The dragonfly zipped immediately left into the bathroom closely followed by me. I thought to open the windows, so the beautiful creature could head out.

It had vanished. I didn't immediately assume it had vanished. Why would I? That would be crazy thinking. I opened the windows. and searched in vain for the missing protagonist with the thought of photographing it. Nowhere to be found.

 Still believing this to be a different species to the familiar sort, I began to search the net via AI for this giant. It doesn't exist. A puzzled Copilot (MSN's brAIn) insisted I'd seen a bat. ("AI can make mistakes.")

When it comes to mythical experiences, I'm a sceptic. Not an unbeliever, but a person who is likely to suck in their breath and look askance. But I cannot unsee what I saw. An astoundingly beautiful creature that appeared and vanished.

Sticking to the mythic quality of the episode, I returned to brAIns and asked for what it had on dragonfly lore. Interesting. Here it is.

Mythic Qualities of Dragonflies

Dragonflies have carried symbolic meaning across cultures for thousands of years. Their unusual life cycle, shimmering colours, and astonishing flight make them natural emblems of transformation, threshold‑crossing, and spiritual presence. This page gathers the most enduring mythic qualities associated with dragonflies.

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1. Creatures of Transformation

Dragonflies begin life underwater as nymphs, then emerge into the air in a sudden, decisive metamorphosis. This makes them symbols of:

• Personal change and renewal

• Emergence from old patterns

• Awakening to clarity

• Crossing into a new phase of life

Their transformation is dramatic and luminous, often used in myth to represent spiritual growth.

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2. Beings of the Threshold

Dragonflies move between water and air, stillness and speed, visibility and disappearance. Many traditions see them as creatures that slip between worlds.

They are associated with:

• Liminal spaces and thin places

• Messages from the unseen world

• Encounters that feel otherworldly or numinous

• The ability to cross boundaries with ease

Their sudden appearance and disappearance often marks a moment of significance.

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3. Symbols of Lightness and Joy

With their iridescent wings and astonishing agility, dragonflies embody lightness of spirit.

They represent:

• Joy arriving unexpectedly

• The quickening of intuition

• Moments of enchantment

• The presence of blessing

Their movement is often described as a dance of light.

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4. Souls in Motion

In parts of Europe, dragonflies were once believed to be souls in transit—living spirits moving lightly through the world.

Their appearance indoors was taken as a sign of:

• Protection

• A loved one’s nearness

• A gentle spiritual visitation

These associations are always benevolent, never ominous.

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5. Clarity and True Sight

Dragonflies have nearly 360‑degree vision, making them symbols of insight and perception.

They are linked to:

• Seeing truth beyond illusion

• Clear understanding

• Sharp intuition

• Wisdom gained through stillness

In Japanese symbolism, they represent victory over deception and clarity of mind.

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6. Messengers Between Realms

Many Indigenous North American traditions describe dragonflies as carriers of messages from ancestors or the spirit world.

They are seen as:

• Intermediaries between realms

• Bearers of subtle guidance

• Signs of spiritual presence

Their swift, darting flight reinforces their role as messengers.

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7. Emblems of Summer and Enchantment

In Celtic and British folklore, dragonflies are linked to the height of summer and the faerie realm.

They evoke:

• Warmth, vitality, and abundance

• Encounters with the enchanted or uncanny

• The shimmering beauty of midsummer

Their iridescence and speed make them natural symbols of magic.

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Key Themes at a Glance

• Transformation – emergence into new life

• Thresholds – movement between worlds

• Joy – lightness and quickening of spirit

• Soulfulness – gentle spiritual presence

• Clarity – true sight and insight

• Messengerhood – carriers of subtle meaning

• Enchantment – symbols of summer magic

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Dragonflies have always been creatures that invite wonder. Their mythic qualities remind us that some encounters are meant to be held gently, honoured, and allowed to remain mysterious.

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Muse-ing

What I was doing in the USA: Thinking. 

There are days when the world feels like it’s spinning faster than my thoughts can catch it.Quantum chips, multiverses, encryption, wars, politics, cruelty, compassion - all of it swirling like a murmuration of starlings, trying to decide which way to turn and where to land.  And somewhere in the middle of it, there’s me: a poet in superposition.

Not choosing yet. Not collapsing the wave. Just holding the possibilities lightly in my hands.

On Qubits and the Power of “Both/And”

I’ve been reading about qubits - those strange little quantum creatures that can be 0, 1, or both at once. A classical bit is Adam or Eve. A qubit is Adam and Eve, shimmering together until the cosmos demands a decision. It struck me that this is how many of us live now: in the in-between, in the not-yet, in the place where ideas swim around without settling.

Superposition isn’t confusion. It’s the fertile pause before clarity.

The Pebble and the Pond

I joked that poets should be central to government decision-making. Imagine it - Cabinet meetings beginning with a stanza, budgets footnoted with compassion, policies written with margins wide enough for metaphor. Idropped that thought like a pebble into the pond, and in one universe - if you like that way of thinking - the ripples reached the right ears and it became real.

There’s something hopeful in that. Not scientific hope, but human hope.

The World as It Is

And yet, we live in a world where choice has teeth. People believe what they like and get away with it. Sometimes that belief births abolition,sanctuary, soup kitchens. Sometimes it births fear, cruelty, pointless wars, and the rise of those

who thrive on division.

The suffering is real.

The wounds are real. 

The chaos is real.

But so is the capacity for goodness.

The World as It Could Be

Many years ago, I realised something simple and terrifying: humans shape reality. 

Every act of kindness, every refusal to hate, every moment of restraint - these are the quiet decisions that build a better branch of the universe. You might call it the Kingdom of God, were you so minded. You don’t need a multiverse for that. You just need a heart that refuses to go numb.

The Awakened Heart

And this is where I land, again and again:

“I will not betray my awakened heart.” 

Because Love exists. Somewhere, sometime, it will be perfect. Not perfect in the sense of tidy. Not perfect in the sense of painless. But perfect in the sense of whole - the way a seed is perfect before it breaks open. Love is the final truth of things. Even when the world forgets it, I won’t.

A Closing Thought

Perhaps this is the real superposition: the world as it is, the world as it could be, and the fragile luminous space between them.We live in that space. We choose in that space. And every choice is a ripple.

Somewhere, in some branch of possibility, humanity gets it right.

My task - our task - is to make this branch resemble the perfect as closely as we can.

[Autosaved] Advent -ures

I'm attempting to write this blog with an electronic pen - a cheap knockoff from China. Its a bit hit and miss, but is on the whole, coping well with my erratic handwriting. The reason for resorting to high tech is that I have chronic pain in my neck and shoulders, because I think I slept awkwardly A few nights ago, and am suffering the consequences. This is making Advent rather more adventurous than expected, but, hey! At my age a little discomfort is to be expected. I'm propped up in bed, head fixed facing forwards, tablet On my knees,  scribbling away. As A fan of all things electronic, I am rather enjoying myself. The eccentricities are a random refusal to print a lower-case a, and  a tendency for the pen to switch off at inconvenient moments. 

I’m  a fan of Advent , a time of quiet reflection, at least in theory,and take measures to keep frenzy to a minimum. There is only one gift to buy, as "secret Santa“ allocates one family for the receipt of my seasonal generosity- I haven’t known what to buy anyone since they passed the soft toy phase, so the purchase of a mini-waffle maker for one branch of the clan sorts out much rumination, and saves a lot of money. I recommend this to all grandparents. 

Ray sends out the electronic Christmas cards about now, so if you’re reading this, you probably got one. If didn’t, leave your email in the comments below.

Sitting Tight

    I wonder how my mother felt back in the summer of 1945? She’s 18 years old, and war is already raging on the Continenet due to the meglomania of a fascist  madman, determined to fashion the world in his own twisted image. I think I know.

There is an unforgettable beauty in this Spring day. I will treasure it, as perfect. It’s warm, and I am serenaded by a chorus of a splendid clutch of songbirds. Violets, primulas, primroses and daises are scattered willy-nilly at my feet. Above my head, the mock orange, and  Pacific dogwood are waiting in the wings. A few more weeks and they will shower me with blossoms.

I hesitate to spoil the mood. So maybe I won’t. Maybe, like my mother, eighty years ago, I’ll enjoy this day, and let tomorrow be. 

Obit

I’m reading,” A God of Surprises,” recommended by Sarah, the Catechist on the “Lay Pastoral Ministry,” course I’ve recently embarked on. Sarah promises that its an  adventure, sometimes terrifying, which I can assure you, dear Reader, is true when embarking on an interior journey.

So. “God of Surprises.” There’s this wonderful mechanism when as a Catholic, you venture an original and radical thought: someone has certainly thought it before, and if that someone is a Saint - you’re in! 

This unoriginal thought occupying me at the moment, is, “Christ in you the hope of glory.” St Paul. That’s OK, then,  Christ lives in me, probably undergoes a bit of a struggle to get out and about, but that’s another blog. 

Years ago I put in a mench for Catherine of Genoa, who ran through the streets of .. Genoa, shouting, “The deepest Me is God!” Now that would get you locked up today, but then, it was the bottom rung of the ladder of canonisation. 

Gerard W Hughes (“God of Surprises” ) added another string to this unlikely bow with a quote from Augustine of Hippo ( Saint) “”When the priest holds up the host and says, “The Body of Christ,” reply, “I AM”. Wow. Chewing on that one a while.

But I digress. Gerard ends each chapter with a spiritual exercise, and at the end of Ch 1 it’s, “Write Your Own Obituary.” ( I once offered to video  one to be played at the appropriate point in the Requim Mass, an idea which my near and dear, flatly refused to comply with. Check out my YouTube Channel. It will be there …Though not yet.) 

This was easy. I decided long ago that chiselled on my tombstone will be,”She made herself laugh!” Or as St Paul would have it: “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice!” 

So. Not only did he get there first - he said it twice. 

End Times?

Wiser heads have reasoned we’ve been in the End Times since the day of Pentecost, and the second coming of Christ is yours for the asking with the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

As timing, that’s  as good at it gets, especially since it’s made clear in the handbook, that no one knows the Day or the Hour. Fair enough. 

I have been mildly diverted by the insta posts of the excited deluded posting how they’ve prepared for the Rapture, a twelth century invention BTW, by selling homes and cars, going to prominent places with hands raised, and … waiting. 

How would that work exactly? Would the Rapture be at 0000am GMT all over? Or would there be like a rolling tide of Raptees, heading up as the magic hour hits their time zone? As it happens, such speculation must await another Moment, as diddly-squat happened. As the Big Day drew to an inevitable close, I wonder what the duped were thinking? Would it come as something of a relief, shortly after coming to terms with their rather awkward, “left-behind” status, to discover NOBODY went up with a shout of triumph, so at least there wasn’t the embarrassment of not making the cut … 

I shouldn’t mock, but I will. If Christians spent as much time feeding the poor and loving their enemies as they do obsessing over dodgy prophecies, the world would be much better off. 

Serenity

I thought I’d try something different today. I will practice Oneing, as described by the mystic Julian of Norwich: experiencing union with God.

“Union with God,” may seem a little far-fetched to the vast majority of people, including Christians—although it’s likely that Buddhists have already reached that state, let’s call it, “self-emptying,” and we Christians are trailing behind.

It’s amazing that most religious people don’t practice Oneing, because the very Latin word, “religio”, from which “religion” is derived, means to “reconnect.”

We Christians have a perfectly adequate myth to describe disconnection with The One: the story of Eve (First Lady) being deceived by a serpent into eating an apple, and persuading Adam (First Man), in turn , to do likewise. For this apparent misdeed, the entire human race disconnected from God and now lives in a state of separation.

I’m not entirely convinced of the literal facts of the story of Adam and Eve—so don’t tell my friends who are convinced it’s true—but I sense there is a deeper truth: that once this soul of mine was connected to the cosmos, and maybe by choice now lives a separate identity, with a deep longing to be one with the One once again.

So what did Oneing look like today?

 I deployed all my senses. I found a twig covered in lichen and moss, and I touched it with a deeper awareness of its texture. There was something very  healing in that connection. It would be ridiculous to say I became the twig—but it’s not too far-fetched to say I knew it to be exactly what it is, and that brought me joy. 

From touch to smell: it has rained heavily for two days here in Redmond, and the lakeside woodland was giving up a delicious scent. Laugh if you must—it would be ridiculous to say I became the woodland—but I stayed for a few moments with the presence of the forest.

Sight:what did I see? A bright blue sky quietly surrounded by forest. In the distance, mountains. Beneath  the trees on the green, a group of women slowly moving through Tai Chi poses. Swimmers heading for shore. A mother with her baby in a buggy, returning his gaze. It would be ridiculous to say I became a mountain or rolled in with the lake—but I looked upon those things with great pleasure, and I felt a desire to tell all those people how much they are loved.

Often at times like this, I look around me at natural beauty and I give thanks for the bouquet of the day—wild, asters this morning- and an orchestra. Today that was different birds going about their business with varying degrees of tuneful intensity. It would be ridiculous to say I became the  orchestra—but I conducted it in my heart, and I bowed to the beauty around me.

I finished my time sitting on a branch that reached out into the lake. It would be ridiculous to say I became God—but in truth, I felt His presence in the silence and in the song. 

And I believe I understood what Lady Julian meant when she spoke of Oneing. 

Oneing.

Being A Godsend

The weekend began with a bang. I wasn’t there to observe the explosion, fortunately , but I was first on the scene for the clean-up. My intention was to meet the guy delivering the flowers for the afternoon baptism, at 9 am, do a bit of a tidy-up, and scoot home ASAP. 

On opening the kitchen door, I noticed immediately that the fridge door was open, the plastic door compartments had exited the door, and the floor was covered with a brown liquid. A half- consumed bottle of coke in a plastic bottle had unaccountably exploded, leaving its environs ae described above.

It could have been a lot worse. All the bits of the fridge were unharmed and easily reassembled, after a run through the dishwasher, I took the opportunity to defrost the fridge, and gave the floor a healing scrub. All done.( Never found the bottle top … weird.) 

The flower guy showed up in good time, but because operation coke-bottle took more time than anticipated, I stopped off at The Manna House for a sandwich, which sorted  lunch.

Ray was away, so I got to determine which jobs to assign to Abu who helps out in the garden. I put him on cutting back the pink elder, which is stressed, and probably dying, and had him clear the trails through the shrubbery, which are  hide and seek opportunities for the grandchildren, now doubling up as a prayer labyrinth. I made him an American Brunch, treating myself to a spare pancake.

Free for the rest of the day, I set about making soup for tomorrow, then settled down to watch uplifting videos on YouTube 

Sunday began slowly. I rose early to pray, which I combined with watching butterflies and walking the labyrinth. July is good for all three. Having done all that was necessary yesterday, I didn’t need to be too early for church, so I ambled up just 15 minutes before kick-off to find a very agitated friend, Michael*, in a heated discussion with Fr  Liam, who was totally at a loss as to why St Mary’s was closed, so unable to give an explanation. 

It’s at this moment I become a godsend. I know Michael well from taking lunch at the community kitchen on Thursdays.  Michael is a volunteer chef and I am one of his customers. 

I know that St Mary’s is closed because the congregation has hoofed it up the road to Gorsley Baptists to celebrate the vicar’s 65th birthday. I got the email. Michael can’t read or write, so he didn’t. St Mary’s takes great care of Michael, and this circumstance is not typical. 

“Come with me, Michael, I’ll explain, and you can do church with me today,” 

Michael too, was a godsend. During my prayer time, I’d reflected on St Paul’s words in today’s gospel. “Christ in you, the hope of glory …” and I’d determined today to see Christ in everyone. Christ came to me today as a fifty-one year old man with learning difficulties who needed a friend, and I came as Christ  to him, to reassure him and guide him through his first Catholic Mass. Fr Liam broke protocol and agreed to give Michael Communion. “Jesus understands,” he affirmed. 

The grande finale … Christ came to both of us in bread and wine. The greatest godsend of all. 

*Not his real name.