The Rising Tide - Horses in the Thames

The Rising Tide by Jason DeCaires Taylor

London living... take three

I like the spirit of this great London which I feel around me.

Charlotte Brontë, Villette

Your own exploration therefore has to be personalised; you're doing it for yourself, increasing your own store of particular knowledge, walking your own eccentric version of the city.

Geoff Nicholson, The Lost Art of Walking

London - beautiful, immortal London - has never been a 'city' in the simplest sense of the word. It was, and is, a living, breathing thing, a stone leviathan that harbours secrets underneath its scales. It guards them covetously, hiding them deep within its body; only the mad or the worthy can find them.

Samantha Shannon

This is life, in all its gruesome, lovely, neon-lit glory.

Nuala Casey, Soho, 4am

This city had been a city for two thousand years, and I could feel that with every step I took. Bits of all that time were still here, alive, even if it was just in the form of collective memory.

Carrie Vaughn

It is the glory of London that it is always ending and beginning anew, and that a visitor, with a good eye and indefatigable feet, will find in her travels all the Londons she has ever met in the pages of books, one atop the other, like the strata of the Earth.

Anna Quindlen, Imagined London: A Tour of the World's Greatest Fictional City

Seeing anew...

The world unwraps itself to you, again and again, as soon as you are ready to see it anew.

Gregory Maguire

A special stillness...

...found on an Autumn day, on the farm. Just the two of us, my sister and me. A rare treat.

Silence sings...

Sitting in the sunshine on the verandah at the farm, enjoying a lovely cup of tea... so, so peaceful and still. Yet, when I closed my eyes and tuned in to the sounds, not silent.

I could hear a breeze blowing over the grasses, windchimes, a picking truck in the apple orchard, various garden birds, a dove calling in the pine trees, a fly buzzing by, rustling autumn leaves in the Pin Oak, Hadeda Ibis calling as they flew over the dam, the hum of the generator, leaves being raked...

I am convinced that tea tasted better for my being soaked in sunlight, and that subtle orchestral accompaniment!

Thankfulness, every day - Nineteen

It has been cold this week. Frosty, icy, wintery (not autumnal) cold. I had to surrender this evening and turn on my heating. I'm sitting here now with a hot water bottle, wearing several layers of clothing, a small fleecy blanket wrapped around me, a cup of tea to hand and the radiators on, and I am still conscious of the chill. I know that I'll thaw and in a little while, I'll be feeling toasty.

On my way home tonight I passed several guys who sleep rough in the area and it struck me, as it always does at this time of year, how very fortunate I am not to have to live like that. 

I get quite grumpy in the cold. I am not a cold weather soul, and my body's not designed for it either. I've learnt how to arm myself against it and to get on regardless and I'm definitely more acclimatised now than when I first moved to wintery climes but I can't see myself ever fully embracing it. My heart shrivels, my body hurts, and I'm not much fun to be around. I've even been known to cry with discomfort and petulance in severely cold situations (like when I fell off a raft into a river of barely melted snow and ice and then had to sit in the bitter air on the boat for several hours before making landfall). I can't begin to imagine how I'd make it through a night outside in this weather, with only what these guys have available to deal with it, let alone an entire season. Maybe it would be character building but I suspect it would actually just do me in. I know their problems are often much greater than just getting through a cold night but that one thing alone puts my own situation so neatly into perspective.

I am so thankful for that reality check, for my hot water bottle (and the rest),  and that I have not had to find out the hard way how they make it through. And for charities like this.

Thankfulness, every day - Seventeen

Time to breathe and take in the beauty. Today I'm thankful for that.

Thankfulness, every day - Nine

Always thankful for a window seat and a view of the world from the clouds. This one, en route to Belfast for the day.

Thankfulness, every day - Eight

I quite often speak in this space of my immediate family and how much they mean to me. I don't often mention my extended family. In addition to my parents (I have three) and my siblings (including a step brother and sister, five) I have a large extended family of aunts, uncles, cousins, niece, nephews, grandparents, in-laws (formal and informal).... Not all of them are still living (in fact, some that have had the most profound effect on my life are no longer here) and many of them I see only seldom, but all of them have in some way impacted positively on my life. I have memories stretching as far back as my memories go, full of them, rich with them. No matter where I am in the world, I feel them out there, supporting me, part of me. They are the bedrock of my existence and I think I sometimes forget to mention them because they seem so interwoven into the fabric of who I am that I take them for granted.

In particular, this week I've been thinking about my aunts - four strong, amazing women who have each left an indelible mark on my heart, who each in her own way has always been there for me, believed in me and, despite having her own trials to overcome, provided an example of how to live life abundantly, creatively and compassionately. 

Today I've been thinking about this, about them, about how thankful I am that we are family. 

Thankfulness, every day - Seven

I don't own a television. I haven't had one for nearly two years now and honestly, I don't miss it. There are other ways to catch up with the news headlines and anything else can be seen when it's released on dvd or via one of the various iplayer options. I find that there's very little that I can't wait for and that I now only watch what I really want to and am less tempted into sitting on the sofa and flicking aimlessly through the channels. 

There's been one thing recently that I really have become hooked on though and looked forward to seeing every week. In the tradition of Gosford Park and Cranford, set in the  beautiful Edwardian era and sumptuously produced, Downton Abbey is great brain candy TV. Absolutely perfect for a Sunday evening, it creates a lovely bridge into a new week and prevents me checking out of weekend mode too early. And for that, I am thankful.

Thankfulness, every day - Six

Thankful today for Bella, who really knows how to enjoy a Saturday:

~ Watching the world go by
~ Lounging
~ More lounging
~ Hide and seek
~ Catching tassels
~ Reading magazines in the afternoon sun
~ Watching clouds float by

Also good for purring, cuddling, and generally good company. She and I are spending the weekend together while her mum and dad are away and so far it's been fun. I like her style.

Thankfulness, every day - Five

If anyone asks me what my ideal living environment is, my first choice is not a city. And yet, I find myself living (and not for the first time) in the deepest heart of a very big city. 

There are some things that I don't have as a result: a garden or outside space to call my own (not even a teeny tiny balcony in my current apartment); more than an hour or two a night when I can't hear the distant hum of traffic, being able to look up and see big sky and distant horizons, finding somewhere outside that I can safely be alone.... 

Oh, there are lots of things I don't love about it. 

But, there are easily as many reasons (and more) that I do: great places to eat, shop and enjoy the arts, all within walking distance; layers of palpable history laid down in the variety of architectural styles; easy access to travel routes that link me to anywhere in the country (and countryside) and many places across the world; heavy groceries delivered to my door and people-watching opportunities at every turn.... Lots of things that add comfort and colour to my everyday.

Being a short walk or cab ride away from my front door, from wherever I am in the city center, is also one of the things I love about city living.  This evening I walked home in ten minutes after meeting a friend for a post-work drink and natter, and as I closed the door behind me and sank into the peace and solitude of my home, I was very thankful that I had no further to go.

Thankfulness, every day - Four

 

Amazing how good company and interesting conversation can turn a simple meal (in this case, fish and chips, with mushy peas - of course - and a lovely break-with-convention glass of red rather than white wine) into a feast, and a time to be remembered.

Tonight I'm thankful for those occasions. Those people. 

Thankfulness, every day - Three

Today I'm feeling grateful at a very basic level.

I'm grateful for those little everyday things that I carry in my bag, which either make my life a bit more comfortable - like my Burt's Bees lip balm - or are just plain practical, a pleasure to use, or make me smile - like my cheerful little chocolate milk recycled purse, which is all three of the latter.

Other things that qualify are a Muji notebook and coloured pens, a small pack of tissues, a beautiful and tactile keyring, and a lovely rich hand cream (at the moment I'm loving this one from M&S)... all items I use and enjoy every single day. Being able to have these things that I like is a small luxury, for which I am thankful.

Thankfulness, every day - Two

I walk through this lovely square most days on my way to and from my local office. The building in the background is an old school that was converted into a great little modern art gallery and hosts some fantastically innovative and interesting exhibitions, placing an emphasis on education. They also serve a delicious hot chocolate in the gallery café, always a good sign I feel. 

I love the contrast here of the ornate neo-gothic architecture and the minimalism of the gravelled garden space in front of it.  

This evening as I was walking home through the square in the dark, I was struck too by the contrast of light and dark: the deep indigo of the sky and nighttime shadows against the glow of light flooding out of windows and doorways, reflecting on water, and twinkling blue and silver in the bare cherry trees.

Contrast. How much less interesting and beautiful this square would be without it. How much less depth and texture my emotional life would have without it too. Loss, sadness, frustration, loneliness, anger... dark things. But all there to provide a foil to the light, bright, joyful bits. And so, because of that, I am thankful for them.

Tonight I felt that. Deeply.

Thankfulness, every day - One

This morning I sat on a train at 6.45am, waiting for it to leave on a long journey north and, in the cold and dark with the prospect of spending seven hours in total on the rails today, honestly, I was a bit grumpy and not feeling particularly grateful. 

But then I settled in to my seat, drew my lovely warm shawl around me (a gift from my sister) and took my favourite new toy out of my bag (an early Birthday present from someone special) and considered that if it were not for the great British rail system I'd probably have to drive (something I really don't enjoy at all) and suddenly, I felt a lot less crabby and a lot more thankful. A lot more.

Day one of a month of daily gratitude off to a good start!

I hope that you too have found reason to be thankful today and if you're keen to check in on some other spaces shining with a grateful light, you might like to start here...

♡

p.s. I LOVE my Kindle. For all the reasons we discussed, it does not and never will replace a real book for sensory pleasure. Definitely not.  Today though it allowed me to carry two complete books and two long reports that I needed to read for work in a light, convenient, easy to annotate format - perfect.

Basta!

A beautiful sunset that was mistaken for a dawn.

Claude Debussy

(1862-1918)

Softly the evening came. 

The sun from the western horizon 

Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; 

Trinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(1807-1882)

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
T.S. Eliot
(1888-1965)

I never became fluent enough in Italian to think or dream in the language but this morning (well, actually it was almost afternoon) I was standing in the shower (where some of my best thinking and insightful moments occur) and this one word just popped into my head, loudly and clearly, "Basta!" 

Enough! 

It's almost my own personal New Year - my Birthday month - always a time of reflection and renewal and this year I seem to have started that process slightly earlier than usual. The shout in my mind today, I am sure, is part of this. I am being called to action. By my own voice.

It reminded me of a book I acquired a while ago - several years ago now, a gift from a friend who'd benefited from it and wanted to share that gift with me - Soul Coaching, by Denise Linn. I wasn't really in the right space to work through the 28 day programme at the time and I read the first chapter, flicked through the rest and then put it on my book shelf. But one thing that stuck with me even from that cursory look, and has ever since, is this notion of listening in to our inner voice, the soul's voice. Clearly mine is so desperately trying to attract my attention that it has started shouting at me in foreign languages.

And it's right, it's enough already. This has been a horrible year - lots of sadness, frustration and change of the kind not freely chosen. There have been some good moments too, of course, but not enough to balance the scales. I am ready for my next year to be different. To be better.

And that's up to me. I know that. I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to achieve this and there's a long list of things that need to change but to begin with I'd like to:

Stop:~

~ wishing my Mondays to Fridays away
~ spending weekends recovering in my pyjamas, trying to sleep off the week before whilst dreading the week to come
~ carrying a big knotted bundle of sadness around all the time

Start:~

~ taking better care of myself again because much as I love tea and toast with honey, I'm not sure it qualifies as an entire diet
~ being a better friend because there's been a lot more receiving than giving going on, for a long time
~ working out how to free myself to travel for pleasure more

Continue:~

~ seeking things, daily, to be thankful for
~ blogging and enjoying the amazing, caring, creative, wise, inspiring people it's brought into my life
~ hoping but not relying on hope alone to make things better

Time for the sun to set on this year...

Brief journeys - I went to London for a couple of days...

...one of the most vibrant cities in the world...
and this is what I saw.

Could be anywhere, right?

Oh yes, glamorous and exciting times.

I usually try to get out on the town a bit when I travel for work, even if it's just for a wander around the neighbourhood I'm staying in, which this time was Bloomsbury, one of my favourite areas in central London. Unfortunately the schedule this week did not allow even that small pleasure.

But, on the upside, despite being a partial building site in sections, the hotel was very comfortable, and the staff friendly and helpful so, if I had to be locked within four walls, they were not the worst four walls to be locked in. And, although the food was mostly fast and eaten on the run, it was fresh and yummy. And yes, it was quite hard work, but the group were lovely, enthusiastic people, keen to learn and practice the craft of designing, developing and delivering great, engaging learning workshops, which was very gratifying.

So all in all, not a bad few days. Glad to be home though. Nothing beats sleeping in my own bed.

View from my pillow

Bed is the one place where laziness is rewarded.

John Dobbin

(1815-1888)

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a coloured pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling.

G. K. Chesterton

(1874-1936)

As close to a mountain as I plan to climb this weekend...

Might tape a coloured pencil to a stick, might not, but either way I'm looking forward to hiding out from the bitter cold that's forecast and enjoying a lot of delicious laziness.

Happy Friday lovely ones!
♡

What you can't see...

...is their deliciously spicy fragrance, rich and warm in the late afternoon light, filling the room with a perfume that I catch a hint of as I open my front door.  It reminds me of the love with which they were given, that lingers even though the giver is no longer here, and adds a dimension to their beauty and my enjoyment of them that is subtle, but deep.

Like the smell of the lilies, often the things that one can't see and touch are as much an important part of an experience, a person, a relationship, as those that one can. The intangible something that makes all the difference. That makes them special. I love discovering or noticing these, don't you?