Sabbatical skies (three)

I could never stay long enough on the shore, the tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air was like a cool, quieting thought.

Helen Keller

(1880-1968)

Spending my week here... in one of those seafront apartments, visiting one of my lovely aunts. The apartment is up high and has a view like a living painting - ever-changing and absolutely beautiful. But even more amazing is what's inside the apartment.

My aunt is someone who fills some of my earliest, and some of my most recent, creative memories. She is an artist and a nurturer of artistic spirit: a skilled and experienced educator who has always valued and made time for creative pursuits and encouraged her daughters and nieces to do the same. Over the years she's supported our dreams, honoured our achievements, helped us stitch up the pieces of our broken hearts, and believed in us even when we were unable to believe in ourselves. And always, no matter what, art's been the way we've processed the stuff we're working through together.  Art as therapy. Art as celebration. Art as soulfood. Art for pleasure and art for pain. No emotion or medium has been unexplored.

These days she expresses herself by creating the most amazing quilts; quilts that tell personal stories and are exquisite artworks wrought in fabric, designed with talent and sewn with love. And she does it here, in this apartment overlooking the bay. The place is a jewel-box of beautiful fabrics, works in progress, inspirational materials and creative energy. I love it. And I love spending time there, with her.

It's going to be a good week.


[photographs taken by my sister on a recent drive around the coast]

Brother Love

To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.

Clara Ortega

I can't believe that my sweet, soulful, intelligent and just all-round lovely littlest brother (although in truth he's hasn't been littler for many years!) is hitting the big four-oh milestone today. He's crammed so much rich growth, so many adventures, such wisdom into his time here it seems impossible that he's had only four short decades to do it in. I admire and am in awe of how he lives his life with integrity and grace.

B, I hope you know how very much I love you and how thankful I am to know you. And how much good and juicy stuff I wish for you as you enter this new decade. Words cannot express it. But I think that's one of the things I most love about you... words aren't always necessary. You just get it. 

Have a great day Brother-mine. Sorry I can't be there. But I'll see you soon and we'll make it another reason to celebrate... 

Love, love, love, 

as ever

K ~x~ ~o~ ~x~

[Photograph of B taken at our sister's wedding last month by the very lovely and talented Tasha Seccombe. She has a skilled and gifted eye for capturing mood and detail and I love this picture.]

When to start?

What seems to us bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.

Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900)

Next Monday, on the 1st of the month, on the 1st of the year, after this anniversary, before that Birthday, after the final session in this series, when the sun shines, when it next rains, when it snows, when the sun shines again, when I finish this book, when the washing's done, when the clock hits 11:11... there's always a reason to wait, another milestone to reach before starting to write here again. Before starting to look out into the world instead of curling in on myself and preserving what little energy I have for breathing.

Today's a pretty big milestone though. The beginning of a new and very important countdown. And so I think this has to be when.

For a long, long time it's felt too hard, too painful, too lonely, too dark, too much, too little, too empty... no words... locked in on myself. I've never been down quite as deep as this before, or for as long. I've never had to kick quite as hard to swim back towards the surface. But the surface feels in reach now.  So, I think this has to be when.

There's always a reason to wait. And then, suddenly, one day, there's no reason at all. Today was that day. So I think this has to be when. 

Just hit publish, Kenda, and you'll have started.... This has to be when.

[ Flickr loveliness credited here]

Thankfulness, every day - Twelve

Always thankful for reasons to eat chocolate cake and drink pinkglitteryheartbubbly. And there are a few this month...

♥

Thankfulness, every day - Eleven

This week I was asked by two friends entirely independently to help with their wedding invitations, favours and, as one put it, "the pretty stuff". How lovely! I'm thankful to have weddings to look forward to and really touched to be asked.

Thankfulness, every day - Ten

I had something else in mind for today... something about how thankful I am that I'd had the most delicious chocolate fudge milk for lunch (I did, and I am) and that I'd survived my 5.30am start for a day in Cardiff, the third city in as many days this week, and am looking forward to a night at home (I did, and I am) but then my sister sent me the picture of my nephew and niece and my heart just expanded and overflowed with the love I have for these little people and the gratitude I feel that they are a part of my world. Chocolate milk and making it through a gruelling day just don't compare on my gratitude scale with this. I had to find a photograph of my other nephew (with his dad) to add to the mix too. I cannot really put into words how much these three children mean to me, and how thankful I am to be their aunt.

I don't get to spend nearly as much time with them as I'd like and they grow and change so very quickly - it makes me sad that I miss out on a lot of that. The joy they bring me is nevertheless untold and I so appreciate the modern technology that means we can have live video conversations across continents, during which they tell me about their day, show me their latest artwork or the cupcakes they've just decorated, and blow me sweeter-than-cupcake kisses.... It's a marvel. The sometimes overwhelming reality of not having children of my own is so much more bearable because they're in my life, even at a distance. And for that I am thankful. Truly thankful.

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.

Not a single story

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie on TED

Oh to be so articulate! She so beautifully, perfectly, says what I think on this particular subject. Having found myself on both sides of the single story; judged by it and (shamefully) guilty of buying into it on occasion, I could not have put it better how dehumanising I think it can be and how ardently I believe it should be resisted. 

I like to think that blogging, for those of us who are not writer's of books (yet) in some small way, breaks through this and allows us to experience each other's many and diverse stories (sometimes told in words, sometimes in images, often both). Although what we share in this space is still only a part of the picture, of course, I think it often affords a more accurate, multi-faceted glimpse of who we are and where we are than we might otherwise have of each other, spread across the globe. We cannot be here, doing this, without becoming more aware of how many, many stories there are and how very, very rich our world is because of them. Surely?

I was reminded of this great video by the wonderful miner of treasures, Stephanie at even*cleveland.

Something 'specially special...

And from a cliff top is proclaimed

The gathering of the souls for birth,

The trial by existence named,

The obscuration upon earth.

Robert Frost

(1874-1963)

This place I still call Home is home too, for part of the year, to the migrating Southern Right whales who, like me, are always drawn back. The whole bay has been designated a sanctuary and so they are safe from boat-based disturbance and free to lollygag for months en route from their feeding grounds in Antarctica to our warmer waters, where the Atlantic and Indian oceans meet. The whales take up residence here between June and November each year and because of the geography of the town - on an elevated coastal shelf between mountains and sea - one is placed high enough over the ocean at most points in the bay to see them as they lounge or frolic in the deep clear waters close to shore. It makes for one of the best land-based whale watching opportunities in the world and even though we've seen them here every year for as long as I can remember, I never fail to be awed and privileged at the sight of them.

The week before last my family and I were sitting in the front room of my sister's house, having a cup of morning tea, when we noticed a whale not far off shore who seemed especially frisky. She started to breach high out of the water and then jumped again, and again, and again. Given that these girls weigh up to eighty tons, launching her body out of the water once is no mean feat but to do so four times in a row is remarkable and we were literally cheering. The females are generally longer than the males, although otherwise very difficult to tell apart from the shore, and I only know that this was a female because of what we saw later.  My brother fortunately had the wherewithal to grab my mum's tiny compact, and we watched her turn around and then jump back three times. It seemed something special was going on.

We were all clustered at the window marvelling at what, even in a bay where breaching whales are not an uncommon sight, was a spectacular display. We then heard a loud clapping sound... and noticed this...

What we could hear was the sound of the tail smacking down on the water repeatedly - an activity known as lobtailing, believed to be a form of communication although exactly how and what it communicates we aren’t quite sure. This was especially vigorous clapping though, as if something momentous was being announced. After a few more claps, we saw this...

Head and tail out of the water at the same time... very unusual. At this point we were all pulling on shoes, abandoning tea cups, snatching up cameras and small children (yes, in that order) and running out through the front gate, along the cliff paths and out on the rocks to the water's edge. My sister got there first...

As soon as we arrived we figured out what was happening and took a seat (along with the young French couple who were already there) as close to the edge as we could... this isn't something one sees every day. In fact, I've only witnessed it once before in all the years.

Two females... only a few feet off shore, one of them a midwife.

The frenetic tail activity soon died down and then the slightly smaller of the females moved off a little way. The tail-slapper, who remained closest to us, blew a huge gust of air from her blowhole (it sounds a bit like an elephant or a horse’s humpff, only much deeper, breathier, and very resonant in the curve of the rocks) and submerged slightly. And, a few moments later, we saw this tiny (well relatively tiny, at only about 5 metres long) baby whale nudged gently to the surface to take its first breath...

How awesome is that?!

Honestly, it's one of the most incredible things I’ve witnessed and I only wish I could share the full experience with you. My little camera and I are just not up to capturing the scene properly and it's one of those occasions when I wish I had a better lens and more skill and when the human eye shows just what a remarkable thing it is. We could see through the clean water to what was happening below us so clearly and it felt as if we might reach out and touch, they were so close. My brother also shot some video and, when I've figured out how, I will upload it for those who are interested.

It was about more than just what we could see though and in the end trying to photograph it seemed strangely incidental. The sound, the smell of the sea, and the sense of being connected to something bigger, universal, all part of it. Mostly we were content to just be there, in the moment, and soak in the experience. We sat quietly on the rocks afterwards for about an hour and watched the mother guide the little one slowly back and forth as it learnt to swim and then take its first shallow dive to a few metres below the water. These whales gestate for 12 months and have a calf every one to three years and thanks to the recently upheld whaling ban, are slowly increasing in numbers again after being hunted to near extinction. A little known fact about whale babies is that, as mammals, they are often born with a fine covering of hair that eventually disappears over the first year. The calf spends this time with its mother, learning everything she has to share about being one of the most majestic and incredible creatures on the planet.

This little calf seemed to be swimming quite confidently within about half an hour and during this time, other whales from across the bay swam over, we assume to say hi to the newest member of the family. A playful seal came past and clapped its appreciation and congratulations too. And then they all moved off.

We saw the mother and calf several times in the same spot after that, and a few days later, when most of the family had returned to their own corners of the country, my sister and I were down at Rob's beach with the children and we saw them again, very close to shore... just us, and them. Taking in the sunshine.

Something especially special.

It's of this and all the kind wishes that wrap around me that I'll be thinking as I head back to my office today, to help get me through the harder moments of having to deal with certain situations and individuals... 

Deep breath... Go!

[photographs by me and BG, we have yet to see my sister's but I am hopeful that she'll have some good ones to share with us too]

Love is a promise...

..., love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.

John Lennon

(1940-1980)

It's been quite sad around here for the past few weeks and as far as my brother's concerned, we aren't quite through the crisis yet. He's slightly more stable now though and being well taken care of and although he's not much better, he's also no worse, so we see that as reason to be optimistic. Thank you for all the caring wishes and positive thoughts. Please know that although I haven't been around here much, I am reading and taking to heart every kind word, passing them on to my family, and am so thankful for them. For you. 

I'm struck this weekend by how even in sad times there are so many reasons to be thankful and sometimes even to celebrate. A year ago I stood beside two of my sweetest friends as they declared their love for each other and we celebrated that declaration with a beautiful, traditional wedding party. I can hardly believe a year has passed already but it has, and today I congratulate them on their first anniversary with wishes of love and a traditional gift to mark the occasion - of paper.  Well, of mostly paper. 

I've long wanted to try making one of these little tag collections and this gave me an opportunity to do so. The tags are tiny, not much more than an inch high and I'd intended to do twelve but, in the end, nine worked better. On them I compiled a small collage of things from the wedding day, including a few picture transfers, pieces of paper embellishment from the table decor, pressed flowers from the bouquets, shells from the beach, snippets of ribbon and fabric and other bits and bobs. The photograph is not the greatest (a combination of rushing and bad lighting - sorry) but this is how it turned out. 

It's been good for me to have something so positive to focus my attention on this weekend and it gave me pleasure to recall the joy of the occasion and to lose myself for a couple of hours in something creative, to escape the gnawing anxiety of the past few weeks even briefly. It's hardly an artistic masterpiece and I don't anticipate it'll become a family heirloom but I'm hoping it will serve as a reminder to them, for a little while at least, of the happiness of the day and the happiness they are wished in all the days to come...

They're away right now enjoying a romantic weekend break so I'll be giving it to them tomorrow when we meet for an after-work glass of bubbly. I do hope they like it.  I'll let you know.

And I hope that wherever you are and whatever you are up to, you are having a relaxing and love-filled weekend too.

♥ K

Plan B - more room, inside and out

more room by rachel awes

I recently came across (as one does sometimes when browsing randomly) a new-to-me blog called All I did was Listen, the lovely online space of Rachel Awes. I was immediately entranced by Rachel's whimsical drawings and heart-rich musings - each and every one beautiful and special. The drawing above particularly struck a chord with me and as soon as Rachel opened her Etsy shop, I had to order one. It so reflects where I am right now - ready to make more room, inside and out.

Firstly, the outside space: A confluence of lucky factors means that I will be moving into a new apartment towards the end of April. I'm very excited about this as it will be the start of a new phase for me and I'll no longer be sharing my living space with anyone at all. My current housemate and I have had a great innings and I've enjoyed living here but I'm ready, willing, and now able to enjoy a place entirely to myself. I know that moving house is considered quite a stressful experience but I'm actually looking forward to packing up and then unpacking and settling in to my new space. It will be fun. An adventure. I've moved many, many, many times in my life so this is not an upheaval that fazes me but somehow this feels so different. Not having to consider anyone's needs or tastes but my own. At all. It will be the first time in more than twenty years that this has been the case and I'm incredibly energised at the thought. Terribly selfish I know, but true. It may not be forever, it may not even last very long, and that's fine (I like sharing my space too and am always happy to have loved ones to stay) but for now... I can't wait.

It will also provide a great opportunity for me to sift through my belongings and declutter, and I'm looking forward to that too. I've accumulated a lot of stuff considering the tiny space I currently have and I know it could do with a bit of paring down. They're not large items but there are lots of them. I no longer own much furniture (I let most of that go when my husband and I parted ways and my current apartment is let partially furnished so there's been no need to buy any) and I have no real inclination to acquire more now. Ikea will provide the fundamentals and I have some lovely decorative bits that I've collected over years on my travels that will add colour and texture. I envisage a bed, a few floor cushions, piles of books, some pretty personal details, lots of fresh flowers... and not much else. At least to begin with. I see my new style being something along the lines of stripped-back zen minimalism crossed with student make-do chic and bohemian jewel-rich comfort. I quite like the mix.

And on the inside: This process of clearing stuff will be good for this too - more room inside. I intend to take with me only things I love. Things that have good associations. Nothing that reminds me of times or people or states of mind that no longer serve me well or don't make me happy. I don't have much that falls into this category but enough to make this a worthwhile exercise. 

I've held on to things that represent memories I no longer want to carry with me so this juncture is also an opportunity to leave behind some emotional clutter and create more room for good stuff. I'm looking forward to that too. More than anything.

As my travel plans have not worked out the way I'd hoped, I'm intending now to use some of my leave to start this process of sorting and clearing and packing. Perhaps this is one of the good things to come out of having that dream denied right now - the space to move on more quickly than I'd anticipated with another. Plan B unfolds. 

Wishing you a very happy Friday with all the room, inside and out, that your plans require!

♥

Too soon to dream...

...of picnics?

Probably. But I can't help myself. We've had a few hours of sunshine this week and immediately I begin to think about lying under trees, cloud or star gazing, eating delicious food in the fresh air, in the company of friends - heavenly. Without doubt it's one of the main reasons why I'd like to live in a warmer climate again. 

The gorgeous images above are from a blog called Ruffled and they're actually styled as wedding inspiration - exactly the sort of wedding I'd like to have if I ever married again. Exactly. But it would be just as lovely for a casual summer picnic with friends wouldn't it? It actually reminded me of many a picnic I have had with friends... Oh, I do so love a picnic. Have I mentioned that?

I also love wedding blogs: pretty dresses and shoes, love that's almost tangible, gorgeous parties, creative details... what's not to enjoy? Great inspiration for any occasion and every day, not just weddings. My favourite posts are always the real weddings like these from Green Wedding Shoes.

Marie of Blushing and Sweet has highlighted some lovely places to browse (and that purple petticoat and shoes she's posted nearly made me cry with pleasure - perfect for a wedding or a casual picnic I think!). In addition to those she's recommended, another of my favourites is Snippet and Ink. If you feel like losing yourself in dreamy prettiness for a little while... 

I do.

I dreamt of sweet peas and a wall...

...both red. 

I could smell the sweetpeas (lovely!) and there was a rich warm glow off the wall. I remember thinking I'd like to paint a wall in my home red (I'd like one in deep peacock blue too) and that was it. I don't remember anything else. 

I wonder what it means.

Perhaps the sublimation of my anger into something less hostile but still red? Maybe something far more prosaic, given that I'll be moving home quite soon? I don't know. It had a good vibe though so I'll hold on to that and hope it wasn't one of those reverse meaning dreams. Like an upside down Tarot card.

[thank you Flickr Peeps for the perfect images to capture it]

Five minute lovely list

At an everyday level I would reckon myself more than fortunate.

Peter Garrett

(1953)

~ It's half way through the week. That's good 'cause I'm that bit closer to my leave, not so good 'cause still no sign of the necessary paper. Focussing on the good, good, good.

~ Turkish Apple Tea - a very thoughtful gift brought back from Istanbul for me by a colleague. Not actually tea but a lovely refreshing, slightly tart apple-flavoured drink - delish! He also brought me two of my favourite edible treats - fresh Pistachio Turkish Delight and rich, nutty, honey-soaked Baklava. Mmmm... knows me too well I fear.

~ This little bird is preparing to move to a new nest in the next month or so - date to be confirmed soon. Very exciting and long overdue. A space all to myself. Every day. I also can't wait to collect and unpack my goodies from storage, including my pretty Turkish tea glasses.

~ Browsing back through old notebooks and reflecting on the journeys they represent - looking at new notebooks waiting to be filled...

~ Being reminded by browsing on Flickr why I need to play with my camera indoors more. I haven't taken a single photograph this week but I'm inspired by the everyday loveliness above to take some shots later.

♥

Farewell February...

Well, 1st of March, officially Spring. And although someone forgot to tell the weather (we have heavy snow forecast for later this week) I'm going to pretend it's on its way nevertheless. I'm glad February's over.

Having said that, February may turn out to be one of my favourites this year because of this... Lisa posted every. single. day (plus one). on the subject of love. I use lots of hyperbolic words but I seldom say awesome. They are though, these posts. Awesome. Full of heart, fun and happiness, questions and answers, light and dark, just as love is. And of course, her always gorgeous photographs. If you haven't already seen them, please do yourself and your heart a favour and pop over to read back on them. I don't think you'll be sorry.

And on the subject of hearts... the picture above is something I bought myself during the month of February from this delightful shop. Yes, yes, I know I'm not supposed to be spending (I'm speaking to my alter-ego Peggy, who manages our budget and sees this as sheer frivolity) but there are some things that just have to be had. And this is one of them. It was a Valentine's and anniversary gift to myself and despite the sad message actually marks another year of a heart that's slowly healing, so it's a little celebratory marker really. It isn't my usual style this, bleeding hearts, but I find the way Jordan's combined these images and text very beautiful. Kites are quite significant in this story of mine too, so it seemed the perfect thing. And I'm not sorry I spent on it. Sorry.

In celebration of all things lighter and brighter, like Spring and heart's renewal, I had a bit of a play in Picnik this weekend and made a new header. I had great fun but I'm a bit worried that it looks like I'm shooting fire out of my eyes at you all, a' la Carrie. I'm not. Honestly. I wouldn't, even if I could. I just wanted to remind myself that this is my year of sparkle and that I have to find it inside and out... Do let me know if you find it just too scary though and I'll try again.

Otherwise, not much to report. It's already Monday by 44 minutes here, which means officially my working week's started, so I guess I should try to get some sleep. I feel childishly resentful of having to go to bed tonight because it feels like work will come on that bit sooner if I do. Of course, I'll be cursing myself when I'm still awake at 4am and tomorrow afternoon when I'm struggling to string a coherent sentence together because my brain's sleep deprived. So I'd better do the sensible thing. That might appease Peggy somewhat.

Anyway, I hope this finds you well, that you've had a lovely weekend and that the week ahead promises to be a good one...

Farewell February. Welcome March!

♥

Soul soothers

mosaic meditation, soothing me into a quiet space...

~ Thank you Flickr lovelies for all the beauty - you inspire and delight me always and allow me to tell stories that my heart sometimes can't express in words.

~ Thank you bloggy beauties for taking time and offering advice on my photo format - we're going with the majority who voted for unframed, and just ever so slightly smaller to create more white space. I hope you like it. I do.

~ Thank you EAT for the yummiest breakfasts on the run - your porridge with bananas and spiced chai lattes make very early winter mornings on the rails more than bearable. I'll be popping in to say hi tomorrow...

~ Thank you iTunes for this and this - escapism is sometimes the only route I can face and you always deliver without question.

~ Thank you Mr Sketch for the very best scented markers ever - so much more fun to use 'cause they smell delicious and last for ages. I only wish Amazon.com would ship them to the UK so I could buy this big box with extra flavours!

~ Thank you Samuel Johnson for reaching out across time to remind me that "kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not." - I needed to read those words today and there they were. You knew.

~ Thank you. You know why.

Detox Desperado

I would say to housewives, be not daunted by one failure, nor by twenty.

Resolve that you will have good bread, and never cease striving after this result till you have effected it. If persons without brains can accomplish this, why cannot you?

Marion Cabell Tyree

’Housekeeping In Old Virginia' ed. (1878)

Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.

James Beard

(1903-1985)

For the past twenty three days I've been eating like a gluten-free vegan. And I feel great for it. Mostly.

I'm one of those extremely fortunate individuals who has no food allergies and I actually love fruit and vegetables so managing my 'five a day' is no problem at all. I have a bit of a weakness for chocolate, love toast with honey perhaps a tad too much, and eat almost no meat, but generally I follow an everything in moderation diet and consider myself reasonably healthy, borne out so far by those things they measure annually like BMI, blood pressure and cholesterol. I do like to do a detox every now and again though, to give the ol' metabolism a little boost.

And just before Christmas I volunteered to support a colleague of mine who wanted to detox as one of her earliest New Year's resolutions. Twenty eight days: gluten-free vegans the pair of us.

And it's been no problem - there have been things I've missed a little (especially in the cold weather, nothing satisfies quite like some starchy carbs) but there's nothing I've really craved. Until this weekend. Suddenly all I could think about was bread. Any and all kinds of bread. With butter.

I know that proper, grown-up gluten-free vegans would probably whip up some delicious alternative (and feel free to shout up with ideas if there are any of you out there) but my culinary skills are limited at the best of times and I've never tried bread making. I would clearly not have cut it as a Virginian housewife in the 19th century. So instead, I just looked at mouthwatering pictures of bread on Flickr in the hope that I could fool my brain into believing it was getting what it wanted.

But you know how it is... once a craving strikes, it's difficult to ignore. And I think bread is going to be calling my name loudly for the next five days. I'll have to hum to drown it out.

Five days will fly by.

What would you miss most if you were on a strictly fruit and veg diet?

Guiding light...

Do you ever have those middle-of-the-night-in-your-sleep moments of insight that wake you up with an "a-ha!" on your lips? They happen to me rarely and I've tried to cultivate the practice of writing them down immediately but, when it happened a couple of weeks ago, I felt sure I'd remember and didn't reach for the notebook next to the bed. It was, after all, just a single word. Of course, the next morning it was gone. Completely gone.

It's become my habit in the month between my Birthday and the New Year to consider my word for the next year... I don't know how others do this but I like not to rush into it. A year's commitment is not to be taken lightly, is it? So, in the lead-up to the date change I think about the things I'm seeking to enhance in my life and create a shortlist of words. I let them simmer in my mind for the month and then, by the start of the new year, I commit to the one that feels most right. But it was this word, THE word, that popped into my sleep-addled brain that night. I knew with a deep certainty that it was The One. Only two problems: it wasn't on my shortlist, and I couldn't remember it the next day. Not at all.

Oh dear.

Oh well.

Back to the shortlist.

For the past few years my guiding words have had in common a certain gravitas: release, restore, balance, integrity. All good, grounding words that have helped me maintain focus and provided me with a touchstone, something I can turn to when I need inspiration or reminding of what is true and sought by my deepest heart. And I'm still working with all of them really - they're a journey that continues. This year I've considered several ideas designed to build on these: deepen, dare, explore, nourish, pause. All things I would like to work with. But none of them jumped out and attached itself to my heart and I was struggling to choose.

And then, last Tuesday morning, I was standing in the shower (another place I have several of my "a-ha!" moments) and it came back to me. The word I'd dreamt about. I recognised it immediately: sparkle. Sparkle. My heart skipped a beat. Yes. Sparkle.

In almost the next breath I dismissed it. Too frivolous. Something good for high days and holidays but surely too trivial for an annual guiding principle. But the whole of that day it rolled around in my head and would not be ignored. Sparkle... something I can do and be and feel and find in the world around me. Something uplifting and inspiring but that allows for a little of the (inevitable) dark as well. It resonated deeply. Perhaps not to be dismissed then. So... in an attempt to be faithful to the word of 2009, integrity - aligning thought and word and deed - I added it to the list.

And, at the point where the commitment needed to happen and the annual wishes be released into the sky, of all of them, it's the one that felt most right, most true, most needed. I decided to trust it, go with it.

Sparkle.

A little every day - frivolity, effervescence and light. Apparently exactly what I require. My dreaming mind and waking heart agree.

spar⋅kle  [spahr-kuhl] verb, -kled, -kling, noun

–verb (used without object)
1. to issue in or as if in little sparks, as fire or light: The candlelight sparkled in the crystal.
2. to emit little sparks, as burning matter: The flames leaped and sparkled.
3. to shine or glisten with little gleams of light, as a brilliant gem; glitter; coruscate.
4. to effervesce, as wine.
5. to be brilliant, lively, or vivacious.

–verb (used with object)
6. to cause to sparkle: moonlight sparkling on the water; pleasure sparkling in her eyes.

–noun
7. a little spark or fiery particle.
8. a sparkling appearance, luster, or play of light.
9. brilliance, liveliness, or vivacity.

[Flickr talent always sparkles - click above to embiggen and enjoy, and here to credit the creators of this loveliness]

p.s. a few people asked about the lanterns we used to send our wishes up at new year... I first experienced this some years ago at a festival in Thailand and was completely enchanted by the idea. I found the lanterns (a slightly smaller version than shown in the video clip) were easily sourced by searching for Khoom Fay sky lanterns and I've bought them from a few different suppliers since. This year I ordered Glo-Lanterns through Amazon and they were perfect!

Dream, dance, shimmer, swirl, twirl through 2010...

We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.

Author Unknown

There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good.

Edwin Denby

(1903-1983)

Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance.

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.

Lee Ann Womack

(1966)

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

Neil Gaiman

(1960)

The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.

Abraham Lincoln

(1809-1865)

In 2010, I wish for dreaming, dancing, twirling, whirling, creating, exploring, growing, glowing... For you. And for me. For us. Every day. One day at a time.

With love and light, K

♥

[Flickr beauties]

Hold my hand and we'll dance across the sand and into the light

To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful.

Agnes De Mille

(1905-1993)

We ought to dance with rapture that we might be alive... and part of the living, incarnate cosmos.

D.H. Lawrence

(1885-1930)

Why do we love the sea? It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.

Robert Henri

(1865-1929)

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.

Kate Chopin

(1850-1904)

I dream sometimes very vividly and I know that it's considered a good idea to write down the fleeting details of a dream so that one can contemplate later what it is one's subconscious is trying to say. I try to do this more often than not. Sometimes though a dream I have is simultaneously vivid but unclear. The outstanding recollection is one of the emotions, sometimes very strong emotions or sensations, but only snippets of a storyline rather than something fully realised. Isn't that the wonder of dreaming?

In order to record these dreams too, I found several years ago that pictures sometimes serve me better than words and I started creating collages to capture them - just made very quickly with pictures torn from magazines or taken from the huge collection of pre-cut images I have in lots of little envelope folders (it's a compulsion I've had since I was a small child and is shared by my sister - I don't know why, but both of us do this. It's the same with quotations - I cannot stop myself. When I read or hear something that resonates with me, I write it down. I have a collection of thousands...). I still do these paper collages but I buy far fewer magazines now than I used to so I don't have as many to choose from that happen to fit the dream in question. Fortunately, now there's Flickr... source of so many gorgeous, evocative images.

This mosaic is one I made yesterday in response to such a dream. There was a man. A stranger but someone who I just knew I could trust. There was autumn light, and fairy lights, the beach and dancing... effortless swirling, swept-away-by-the-music dancing. I was a much better dancer than I am in real life because I floated. His shirt was crisp and smelt of soap and he held my hand as we walked (I was very conscious of that - I do miss holding hands) and I picked up feathers. The colours were all bluey greys and warm glowing chocolate shades. And that was it. Nothing more in the way of detail. But I woke up feeling all smily and soothed. Nothing profound or obscure in meaning here I don't think... just a sweet, gentle, wish fulfillment dream. But it was lovely. And this mosaic is how I'll remember it.

Perhaps it's time to start attending Tango classes again...

Or just dreaming more.

Happy Monday!
♥

[Thank you to these Flickr beauties for making it possible to capture and express this]