On a promontory

We are sitting on a big rock boulder on a promontory, way, way up from the valleys. Below us, an expanse of sensible green, cool river meandering, bushes, hillocks and hollows; some ostriches galloping as if on a mission float across the landscape; a group of lighfooted elephants, easy on the rocky ground, amble on a mountain further on - I never thought of elephants as creatures of the heights,...Ah but, yes, Hannibal...I remember now!-

A feast for the eyes, as far as the eyes can see.

And then, a great gift from the sky: permission to paint your own colours onto its immensity.

I choose pale grey and more beautiful mauve, pink and sweetie blue with plenty of bobbing white. You, perhaps, would favour yellow, and orange reds, and red with a green ray. The evening is magnificent, beneficial. There is absolute peace, absolute love. Hope exudes, radiates.

We are now reaping the reward of honesty, of authenticity. We, who kept Love alive amongst the misery and hatred, are being recompensed for our courage.

How do you fancy a little paraglide down to the river? OK? Together, after three....

a big change!

Did you notice, I have completely changed my "DESCRIPTION" of this log. Does that mean that I have changed? Yes: as every experience changes you. No: as fundamentally I am still as naive as ever, just don' real-ly (sic) want to be seen as such.

The learning curve has been steep: I now know that there are hundreds of things to learn in the world of blogging...and I will learn them.

The people I have connected to so far have been helpful, kind, cooperative and respectful. Most of them are very funny too! All in all so far, in MY review, the experience of blogging gets a 5. (Only draw back, the time aspect: I think I spend too much time on this, to the detriment of the study of meditation ...I'll soon sort this out though).

As ever some warm feelings of planetary companionship.

PS I'm sure something funny will be written here soon...the last few posts are mainly quite serious, no? (I have however, written quite a few witty comments here, there and everywhere you know!)

How long is 28 days?....

On the first day of this month I started a Detox diet for health reasons, while secretly hoping I might just shed a few lbs in the process (Tiens je ne suis plus "metric"? Next thing you know I'll be supporting the English football team...don't think so, somehow!)

This diet has been an experience! Full of surprises: delicious meals that I would never have eaten before; my capacity for going beyond the need for biscuits which has been shere [SI:own brain spelling check inconclusive, could be sheer?] amazement to all that know me and even more to myself; a complete lack of craving for chocolate; and, best of all the realisation that what I really like is chips. By this I mean, not the cellophane packed wafer thin potato crisps, but the chunky covered/drizzled in oil and fried/baked in the oven variety. I have 4 days to go before I make myself some chips to reward myself for a diet well adhered to.

It is most pleasing to discover that you can do things which you thought you couldn't!

If I haven't lost weight, I have at least had a lot more energy. I've been out and about a lot more. It's great to feel well, and I wholeheartedly recomment to any of you reading this, who do feel well, to take a moment to acknowledge that enviable state of being, to relish it, and to get in gratitude mode, if only for a few seconds...
Appreciation is one of my favorite modes.

Talking of appreciation, my ex husband -the one in Malawi- does not like my blog...Well, I couldn't quite work out if it was the idea of blog or this particular one. I don't really mind though, I thought he might have liked to print his own most original thoughts onto the ether, but no problem. I like the idea of a shared log more and more, and I AM definitely going to learn some new tricks to improve the appearance of mine. I might even invest in a digital camera. I just love seeing all those photos of places and people and things.

Next is a most embarassing admission: I find myself wanting to post corrections to spelling mistakes in my comments to other people's blogs. I don 't mean typos, these I can handle, but it's your old true "faute d'orthographe" that I find so hard to abide. I know this to be a BAD thing... and yet, a lifetime of marking has left its own mark and all I can do is sit on my hands and shut down the computer( not in that order) in order to refrain from the habit. What can I do???? You see in French a spelling "mistake", it is "une faute", a word used both for error and for sin; it begs you to correct it...I think I should "get a life", is what I think. Because my hands are very sore from being sat on, and I can't do anything else when I'm stuck in that position. I did warn you it was an embarassing sort of a thing!

Well for the moment I must go and eat whatever the book says I have to eat, even though it is a bit late for lunch. Ah well! Better cannot be done (Hey, watch your syntax, you casual old teacher!!!)

Bon appétit, et à bientôt les amis!

PS I have been told how to do accents: how delightful for me!

Trust

I was reflecting yesterday about the notion of Trust: how precious it is to be able to trust another person and what it means. I am very privileged that there are several, almost many, people I do trust. That means they are respectful of confidential information, sure, but much, much more than that. It also means they don't judge (see previous blog), they don't interfere, they accept you as you are, eccentricities and all, they wish you well regardless of circumstances, they behave like a guardian angel would.

When someone comes on the horizon that I feel I can't trust, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And it is a pity for them: they miss out on a wonderful feeling: isn't it just lovely to be able to drop your guard and just BE...?

For me, each time it's like revisiting the innocence of childhood , so I thank all those wonderful souls out there with whom I can share a little of my journey without carrying the clanging armour of distrust. I don't know why I chose to write this as it's hardly entertaining stuff...but there you go.

About BIG-BLOTHER, Tor tells me that you opt for a feed back review, you don't have it thrust upon you as it were. Ah good! That feels better, doesn't it?

A REQUEST:

If anyone out there can tell me how to write French accents in a blog I would be most grateful, I have asked blog support, but they are no doubt immensely busy and I await an answer.( I am using the universal coding thingy).

No stories come to mind to-day, how strange!

Sorry, I'm sure Mind will bubble up again soon. Meanwhile I'll be good....promised!

Big Blog-ther

I just found out from reading one of my favourite blogs that there exists a blog review panel who rate blogs...(Well done Torfeida)

All of a sudden some of the joy has gone out of writing the log, because I was doing it without an expectation of judgment, just as a way of connecting with many near and far, many who know better than I about this medium, and in the hope of finding like minded folks.

I'm sure mine will not draw attention, not yet surely, but dear oh dear how would I feel if I got a 1 or even a 2...I would be sooOOO discouraged. And it would be very unfair, as not all are equal in the face of technology. I, for instance have as yet no idea how you put photos on a blog. (That's why there aren't any on mine by the way). I also use far too many "... ...."s, and I am very uphazard in my choice of topics... (see what I mean?...)

But,I'm not going to be discouraged and I will blog on regardless, but really! Is nowhere free from judgment? Ah Ah Ah, I AM one who judges a lot, so in my case rating is retribution.

Most grovelling apologies if my moans offend those who judge: I didn't mean it, honest gov'! I won't do it again, I promise! Let me off this one time, comme on! Please!

I bow backwards to all those whose sensitivity I may have offended and withdraw discreetly to go rethink my strategy (ok, and to make my bed and to do some more ironing, and to cook a meal too).

Whatever else, you have a good day!

Not very inspired,but I want to say hello!

All day long I sit here singing songs for everyone...

That's what came to my mind as I started to write (Beatles,Mother Nature's son- if I got that right!)

I've been on the Blogger site for just over an hour now, I've posted comments to perfect strangers. I am trying to find out how you do accents on a blog text- because I also write in French, see!-

So all day long, yesterday I was having deep philosophical thoughts that would have made perfect blogging material, but this morning they have flown off like my flowers in the Zimbabwean bush.

I don't like writing when I have little time and now I have little time because I spent too much of it visiting you all.

So a very bland, but all the same loving, log.

Just in case that's not enough:

On this morning's journeys, I came across a quote that someone wanted explained. It went something like this: "no matter how many zillions of years a star may shine, it will never be able to wipe out the darkness at the heart of man"...or words to that effect. The meaning of this seemed eerily clear to me, and in a comment I think I may have posted (but didn't manage to see, as I'd lost the link and can't remember anything about it and don't know how to find it again...BOO to me for lack of attention and expertise!) I took the liberty to share my view on that quote: that our mission as human beings IS to become light and to eradicate all the darkness in ourselves; this we do from the day we are born through all relationships, language, thoughts and actions. There is truth in that quote, but we don't need to be sad about it as the joy is in the journey. When we are perfect beings, we won't be in a body any more...

Looking forward to an angelic state...(check the book by Bernard Werber: l'Empire des Anges if you can)

The time I failed....(letter to Torfeida)

I think it was my first year at University. I was reading for a degree in English at the Faculte des Lettres of Lyon. When the day for the exams results came, I took a train for the 50 mile journey from my home town of Macon to the university, to go and read the boards where the names of those who passed were posted. There I met all my class mates, the results were pretty much as predicted by past performance except that my name was not on that board. No matter how hard I looked I couldn't find it. So, in a profound state of chock, since I had always been an A student and felt totally bewildered as to what must have been expected of us, I got back on the train to face my immediate family, who in any case were very scathing about my ambition to study, and my neighbours, who weren't too favorably disposed towards our dysfunctional family unit and would no doubt rejoice at my failure. What would my grandmothers, who had such faith in me, be thinking now? And my kid sister, for whom I was meant to be an example? And the friends from the youth club, who all thought I was a bit of a genius.

The shame was intense!

Every jerk of the train hammered home that terrible reality: you've failed, you've failed...

I cried and cried and cried, without restraint, in darkest despair. And then I knew the only solution was to fling myself out of the train's door and die. I went to open that door a dozen times during the hour long journey. I was determined to end it all. Somehow, I didn't- as you can see-. But for sure that was the closest I ever got to suicide, ever...

All that summer, I revised for the re-sits, not quite knowing what it was that I was meant to have done better, but working like a Troyan, still. While others were sunning themselves by the municipal pool, I was up in the weeping willow tree, revising, While others went to the 14th of July people's dance, I was revising in my bedroom, while others went camping, hiking, folk dancing, cycling in the woods, climbing at Solutre, I was revising.

Then, towards the end of September, I became worried that I hadn't' heard anything from the University and rang the secretary to find out when the re-sits would be. Well, -heart to the bottom of my feet, straightaway-: the re-sits had been and gone, and I hadn't been told. But wait, she said, -heart back up to about hip level-, you didn't have to do re-sits, I'm sure you passed. Much checking ensued, and yep, you've guessed it I had passed with a commendation and a clerical error had been the cause of this nightmare summer.

What lessons did I draw from that?

Many! But all of them have been instrumental in my becoming a better teacher, probably, understanding the importance of constant monitoring of progress and feedback, and the terrible effect of the pressure of the phantom of failure on a young mind.

So:

First of all: chase that phantom!

Then: do study well, steadily, with application, with determination, with confidence that you are well able to pass and to achieve your aim and objective.

Stay in your self-esteem at all times: even a failure at an exam would not detract from who YOU really are.

Have confidence that those who truly love you will love you unconditionally and would not judge in any event. (God first of all, as you rightly say!)

Is this a little boring to read for all of you who have no exams? Don't worry, we all do face exams, of a different sort, results to be announced in a perhaps more distant future.

(Post totally inspired by Torfeida 's latest log)

Love and Peace.

The best birthday..... ever.....

First of all thank you to Phil for his good wishes. It's pretty good when folks you don't know wish you well!(Well Phil is a friend of Paul, so not completely unknown, but, still, we have never met, let alone been formally introduced.)

When you have no expectations, and you look after your own needs, -emotional and cake wise-, the birthday is bound to exceed your expectations and the cake is bound to be one you like.

I am now 56 and will have to adjust the heading of the blog when I feel up to it - investigating how it is done I mean, not worrying about owning up to an extra year in this lifetime. For this birthday, I had no plans, other than to make myself a cake and watch the France-England match with Paul.

Now by a strange coincidence, I, like David
(blog title perfectly beastly- I must learn to do "links"),
am abstaining from sugar, as for health reasons I am currently following a "detox eating plan", and so had to find a cake with no sugar + no wheat: bake it yourself Jocelyne, with honey and potato and rice flour....I can't remember what I was trying to say...Concentrate, woman!
see Graham's blog "you should have one" - must learn to link- apologies for resistance to new learning).

Well, everyone and his friend wished me a happy birthday (bar one absent-minded pal)...One ex husband who phoned from Malawi and sent an e-card, sister-who wasn't speaking to me at the time (!? * much scratching of my head in a I don't understand people fashion), father very grumpy but loving, and so on and so on.... Then Ken visited, Tony brought me a CD, and Paul kept me the best company for the evening. The sun shone throughout, the day's menus were great, Francoise's little grandson made me a fabulous card with bits of torn pictures -he's only 4, so that's promising- I got roses, roses, roses, roses and more roses, plus some other flowers, and then...... Allons Zenfants de la Patri-i-e, there was ze match, the footie.

I did not know before hand which team I would support, but as soon as England scored, I knew I was supporting FRANCE, and then Zizou gave me a last birthday present for the day: two lovely French goals in extra time.

The moral of the story is clear. Can you draw it yourself please, as I keep coming up with cliches* which even I can't bring myself to write down.

Anyway, it's all good.

By the way, I don't rejoice about France's victory in public places, in case some fan decides to sock me one, so don't you worry about my safety...

I had several stories in mind for this blog, but I have overrun my time on the computer (the back, you know, still hurting a bit....) so, to-morrow will do.

Keep well! Love.

*the lack of accent hurts my eyes...

wasting a post?

I love the phrase "Enough said,- or, better still- 'nough said", which is ironic because I always have so much to say....

Back from morning meditation, a bit of waffling, then to-day's story: The red flowers' breakfast

Just got back from morning meditation. On the days when I am well enough to go, I feel really, truly, madly, blessed. I know that after an hour or so of concentring deeply on the beautiful truth of human existence, I WILL have a good day. The mood is set to permanent smile, little botherations don't bother, big burdenages become light with the deepening awareness of who I am.

'Nough said about this. To report, little new. Good weather encourages much washing of clothes, followed by rainy weather to foster the ironing of said clothes...but so many for one person alone...

I have a friend - well I have several friends in fact-, but this friend never EVER wields an iron and always looks impeccable.She is a Professor, she gives talks at conferences, she has met the Pope AND Bill Clinton (in no particular order) and so she needs to look very presentable. But I just don't get it. I have tried not to iron my own clothes and... I end up looking crumpled Well, now, there's something to ponder about isn't it? ( Just in case you have asuspiscious mind, I know for sure that she wouldn't cheat and have a quick press in the middle of the night...)

A little story for to-day?

Ok, Let's begin:

It's my beloved Africa again. It's Harare, after all the nastiness and before the madness, in 1987 or so.

I am driving the oldest, most battered, dangerous car ever. It has holes where the floor should be and if you are prepared to risk it while driving, you can watch the road unfolding under you as you go; a rare privilege when you're not on a bike! Once I pondered what "those bits" were dangling from the back wheel, and I was reliably informed that these were the brake pads shoes...There were no brakes on the rear back wheel, but then the old dear went so slowly that you almost didn't need to break, ever, you could just glide her to a halt in most cases. I digress. If you want more stories of my driving adventures in Africa, do ask...I will oblige.

So in the car with me is my 11 year old son, Paul, and we are driving to his maths teacher. Harare is not like a city here: great big swathes of it are just like the bush and I make a point of going through those wild back roads for the joy of looking at the long grasses, the flame lillies, the wild chewing gum trees, may be seeing a snake or two basking on the dirt road etc. For the education and edification of the young one, and for the joy of it all, I am ever on the lookout for those experiences.

This morning, beautiful blue, the balancing rock at Epworth profiling ochre in the backgroung, we, singing at the top of our little voices, pass a new patch of some truly fantastic flowers,several dozen, coral red, each the size of a small pompon. They weren't there yesterday, I'm sure,- but then things are so magical here that flowers can and do appear from one day to the next, you know...So, In a puff of dust from the 3 wheels' braking I am slowly reversing the car, ready to make erudite notes of what type of flower these are for our endlessly improved brain filing/filling. How many sepals, petals, how long the stems, how shaped the leaves?? But when we get there, the mirage has gone. A small distance away, instead, a flock of little red birds is dipping and swirling. Old Banger disturbed the flowers's breakfast.

So back to the reference book satchel: put away The Flowers of Zimbabwe, and get out The birds of Africa. They are, I gather, red cardinals and very fonds of grass seeds too. Boy, can these babies fly!

Love and Peace to all Birds, Flowers and Peoples.

comments (0)

Because I am new to the world of Blog, and because my two first posts atracted a couple of comments and the latest ones didn't, I am now thinking I am doing this all wrong and I haven't understood what is required here....It does feel brrrr to write into the void, like shooting arrows blindfolded.

My back's a bit better, laptop still not set up properly, so short/ short/ short post to-day, just a small Japoneezy song really.


Three green leaves on a stem opposite oneanother,
a bit of string white, not very long, to tie,
a straw hat (I wonder why?)
for a day of introspective pleasure.


Greetings of Peace and of Joy.

(PS & NB: I am NOT a born-again-christian)

a chameleon

I have a confession to make - this is a blog by proxy, a "dictatoblog" because my back is hurting. I should have heeded the advice of those who said my laptop was badly set up! I now will. And another thing...I sat in some chewing gum. Now, how could I have done that? Never mind, I'll put my dress in the freezer and break the offending matter off later. *Sigh* Now you know, on with blog

You know what it's like when you want to be like everyone else? There is a very strong pull towards being accepted, recognised as one of the pack, understood and loved. With this blogging thing, I find my poor brain being torn in all directions, a chameleon going potty as it goes over a kaleidoscope picture.

Subject change: maybe I am very weak, but the violence in an otherwise brilliantly filmed and acted "Read my lips" ("Sur mes levres", or actually may be "Sur tes levres") unnerved me. But what unnerved me most is that the friend who recommended it and knows my non-violent preferences did not notice the violence; her 13 yer old son watched it too and no eyelid was batted...What?!
Am I the last one on the planet not to be desentisized to blood and gore? Do tell me!

Come with me: for now, let's go down a steep path in a tropical wood, well a jungle really. I am holding on to the vines like they were dangling handles on the Paris Metro so as not to lose my footing. It is very hot but no one minds. There is a toucan flirting with us just above where we are. They really are the way they're meant to be - so colourful that you have to do a double take. You wonder how they fly with that huge beak. Maybe it's made of balsa wood. In any case it's probably extrememly light. It's probably a honeycomb structure. (How clever am I?)The sounds all around us - the birds, the leaves, the creaking, the distant water: a soundscape like no other.

Look down now. The butterflies are there in their dozens - they are not scared at all - they bask in the glory of their designer wings. The path turns sharply and reveals a waterfall. Perfect height - not too powerful, not too small. I'll go and cool off in the spray. You can get behind the water and there's a lovely cave there. Very mossy, very cosy, very secrety. I am the first one ever to have gone in. Stay here a while, reflect, marvel, connect with the peace.

Later, it is picnic time on the rocks that border the stream that trickles away from the base of the waterfall in the filtered sun of this magical clearing. I haven't got a spoon to eat my yoghurt (a bet you didn't expect a yoghurt there, but trust me, I brought one.) What I do have is a knife and plenty of wood. So, whittle, whittle - a spoon I have made and a vanilla yoghurt I have eaten. Do you want some, I've got another?

Something magical has to happen. And here it is. The sun has now curved its rays and hits the spray of the waterfall to release a million rainbows; they were there all along.

Guess what! Someone came to visit to-day...

Someone came to visit to-day. And he cut the lawn, and took me to the bank .OK, OK, I do know I said I would'nt bore you with trivia. All the same I was, and am, jolly grateful to have such a lovely son!

So for to-day's story.

"Picture this" (obscure reference to The Golden Girls, which I call the Goldies and which I love to snigger to -never identifying, of course not, either with the stupid dum one, or the teachery one or God forbid, the lecherous one....even less with the old crazy Italian mother, but I digress...):

For this little time with you, I fancy a hideout in a barn, dry and cosy, the sweet scent of straw everywhere. The thought of getting caught here gives us the giggles. On the stone wall opposite, through a small dusty window we can see the rows of the vineyard, -each luscious vine laden with its harvest of grapes-, and the folks who are going about their business, so unaware of being watched. That's fine, our eyes hold no malice. Just above our heads, through the skylight, elongated clouds etch their whiteness on the blue. I hold onto your hand. We burst out laughing at the screeching of an owl. We are ten years old, and we have skipped school...

That's all folks, for to-day anyway. Greetings and love.

someone is coming at 1.30.....

just like yesterday, someone is coming... many visitors= little time!

Some of the thoughts I had since yesterday, regarding blogging:

1) I am quite old to be a blogger and most of the folks that links up with me on the clicky thing are very young. That's good. The older ones are a bit boring for me... who wants to know who I had lunch with -unless it's a BIG celeb, of course!-, or if I played Mah-jong with Mrs Dubceck (obscure reference to Third Rock from the Sun). So although I AM older, I am not going to bore you with that kind of stuff.

2) There is a great deal of talent and beauty out there; I realise, the WWW is also host to good, righteous folk who pursue their lives in an innocent way, perhaps revealing through their chosen links a hidden elite, a family of thinkers, artists, amazing writers and musicians- not to mention photographers. A new society, defying boundaries of geography, class and so on (although I am aware that access to internet is still, globally a huge privilege, and I am very grateful to have been granted this privilege now)

3) I really want to share my imaginary landscapes, BUT there's a bit of the critical me which is barring it for now...so hold your breath ; it will come and when the dam of magical images opens up, there will be no stopping it.

A bientot (see you soon)

The personal profile:you what???

Hi and hello everyone again. A dull day in Brum...

The kitchen beckons with the untidy remnants of breakfast to clear-why does food start to look disgusting the minute you move the plate from the eating place to the washing up place...a question that may well be asked in "random question"... You will see that I am very clever at answering trick questions with trick answers.ahhhh!

This profile thing, I was happily writing my life story, explaining in details why and how this or that thing was the case, I forgot about the templates.Story of my life, what ho! I wanted to explain to you all that I am not the kind of person that has favorite films, books and so on. In any case I am not particularly interested -but please do not feel offended by this if you happen to share my taste in any of the categories offered by my new friend "the blog"-, not particularly interested I was saying to share "interests" with anyone. I like what I like and I like people whatever they like (within the legal and moral norms of course!!!).

So...many things I had written didn't "come out right" in the profile (heavily edited, that's ok I do understand the need for templates in this magical world). For instance, I wrote that having to chose my ten favorite pieces for desert island disc would probably overtax my nervous system and I would spontaneously self destroy in a puff of jumbled music notes...well I didn't quite write that, but then, do you ever write something exactly the same twice? exactly the same twice? See? I AM funny!

Someone is coming at 3 so I will go and clear up the dishes (nicer than washing up don't you think? ) I can't wait to start creating a landscape for my next blog and relating all the secrets which got edited in my personal profile manoeuvers(spelling inconclusive says my on board-in brain-robot spellcheck ...hence forward this will be expressed as "S.I.", well in keeping with the endless creation of protocols, no?)

I am letting my head work itself around the elections issues. A lifetime without the vote here (as a French citizen), has left me with a little bit of a craving for this civic right, even though logic states categorically that democracy in the way it is applied nowadays is no democracy... But all you clever bloggers who may read this already knew this! So the head is merrily working out what to do and it will let me know when it's good and ready... that's the revolutionary new Scarlet O'Hara inspired kind of "thinking". I love it, even though I know it to be profoundly wrong by mocern standards...bli bla bla bla bli bli bli blo AU REVOIR... A la vaisselle (to the washing up)! maintenant(now)! chere ame(Dear soul): j'arrive(I'm coming), j'arrive(I'm coming)! Soon come back.