Crazy in love with life!!!
Feels like champagne bubbling deep in my soul.
Tears of joy, happiness, life fill my eyes.
What wonder is this?
In spite of the challenges I face
This crazy magical feeling cascades over me.
Letting go. Filling up.
Shouting. Laughing.
Crazy in love with life!!!

Beirut, Paris, Kenya, Africa…I suspect that this is only the beginning.
We must not give up who we are, as Europeans, Danes, Frenchman, Canadians – World citizens. We must not let our cultures be diminished. We must not be silenced. We must defend democracy and the rights that it brings and the responsibility it carries. We must not be stopped by fear. We must remember compassion, understanding, love. We must not, cannot, afford to be complacent or passive or pacifistic. The solution is, for me, shrouded in darkness but it must be found.
My thoughts and sympathy to all who have suffered loss these past days.
My question is…what can we do?

I am now equipped with a rather cumbersome boot on my right leg and I try to make my way using the crutches that I am clearly not an expert with, yet. I move slowly forward encumbered as I now find myself. I can just barely make my way through the glass sliding doors out into the lovely sunshine outside the doors. It is an ordinary day outside the main doors to the hospital, people coming and going, going about their business. Some look tired as they approach the main entrance. Employees, visitors, relatives, patients – all who go in have a purpose at the hospital and not all of them are pleased to be there. That is clear to see, to feel in their expressions. I try to provoke a smile from someone just about to enter, the smile was an effort.

The couple are sitting on a bench not far from the entrance. The news has not been good. In fact it must be of the worst type. They are holding hands. She leans forward to zip his jacket up just a bit higher. The wind is blowing harder now. He smiles at her and takes her hand in his. She wipes the tears off his cheek. He is the wheelchair occupant. Is it him that is ill? They love each other and have done so for many years. Man and wife? Lovers? Tough to guess. He looks away from her after kissing her hand. Her hand rests gently on his knee. She looks searchingly at his face. What is it that she is looking for? The love is unmistakable so what is it she needs? Is offering? Comfort? Pain? Sorrow? Is her intention to give him a comforting glance? It is beautiful and alive that which they are sharing and it hurts. They see no one else. They are oblivious to the world around them. They are alone there where they are. Their world that right now is full of love, indescribable pain, acceptance, respect and empathy – the one for the other.

They leave the bench. She is pushing him towards the entrance. As they approach I look at the man in the wheelchair. I see that his eyes are wet. The tears are not permitted to flow unabated at this time, but it is difficult now to keep them back. She is pushing him. It is not a burden. She is a tall woman with white hair. Observing her on the bench she looked fallen and hunched. Not in this moment. She is stoic. There is a certain pride in her approach. The future that awaits them shall not break them, her. The pain is though too much to bear.

They have moved past me now. In through the automatic doors. The wind is cold. The impression that they have left doesn’t immediately disappear. They have in fact stayed with me all day. I just can’t seem to slip them free. I am optimistic by nature. Have always been so. This couple had given up. Hope had very clearly evaporated. The place that had been held by what hope they had felt was now filled with a reluctant acceptance.

It was a difficult exchange to bear witness to – beautiful and touching. I am grateful to them for the privilege of experiencing them today.

The grip is tight and strong. Bound by invisible chains, silenced, the gag cannot be seen, the joy is no more. A prisoner of my thoughts.

The chains are slightly loosened, the gag removed from my mouth, and yet my voice is not free. Sound is not yet found. The fog that enveloped my head is now a thin veil.

Holding back the tears I beckon freedom to tread near, to tear me loose. I wrestle the darkness to slip out of its grasp. The dawn is approaching. I whisper “I am here. Do you hear?”

Released at last, I spring free of the past. My voice sings with joy. My spirit soars. I look to the future with joyous expectation. Now. The present is free. I am here. Happy.

Where do you go my lovely child, when the feelings overwhelm you?
You are here yet, you are not.
Your face reflects your anguish in those few moments before
You realise your vulnerability is on display.

Slowly the changes fall into place, one by one.
Your brow becomes less furrowed and the worried look vanishes.
The mouth becomes less tight and shapes a half smile.
The jaw hardens, portraying a toughness you only pretend to possess.
The eyes, the last feature to be veiled on your beautiful, vulnerable face
Have shut in the fear of living.
Your eyes see too much and the hurt hits your heart too hard.

The mask is now complete.
The mask is now in place, the child within enscounced in a closed world.
A world I cannot enter.
Where is my precious child?

You have disappeared into a world that is safe, for a time,
While the emotions rage in your spirit, from now or before, it makes no difference.
The feelings are raw, the cut that cannot, will not, dare not heal.
The emotions are felt at the very core of your being, at the very center of your soul.

I despair. I cannot reach you there.
The light is here, I whisper to you. I can no longer breath.
There is hope, I whisper to your heart. Tears escape my eyes.
The power lies within, I whisper at your mask.

I know, you whisper back.

I don’t know how to reach your hand. I cry in anguish, I cannot see the way in.

I know, your frightened voice softly replies, I cannot see the way out.

She sat back in her chair. Leaning her head back she wondered if she was ever going to be whole again? She walked around every day and wondered whether she would ever find that little piece that was missing? Worked hard and searched and searched. Where had it got to?

Close at hand, the freedom from the fear, the fear of never again being whole, could be felt. She could touch it.

It tasted…fresh and wonderful.

It looked…absolutely awesome.

It felt like the tiniest bit of her heart had been healed, the bit that wasn’t complete, that piece that was not whole.

The missing bit – the love of life, the love of caring and closeness, knowing tenderness, the love – for herself – wasn’t missing anymore.

But how could that be?

A stranger had entered her world. A kind and sweet stranger who came close and saw her. Reached out and held her. Took her face in his hands and kissed her, wanted her. Just her and all of her

The stranger helped her to gently face the fear. The fear that had filled a piece of her heart, that felt it was missing something vital. The stranger was a stranger no more.

The fear that disappeared left a gap in her heart, an opening that was discovered and filled by tenderness, excitement and joy – restoring what had been missing.

Healing the broken heart.

I woke up one day and felt … different.

A number of years dealing with some of the tough things in life had kind of kicked the joy out of me. I am still dealing with some tough stuff but I have been moving towards a very different feeling.

I am and have always been a relatively optimistic person. Sometimes so much so that it has been an irritant for some people around me. At least, I think it has. I have always felt that I would figure things out. And I have. I have always felt that things would work out, even when the skies were black and stormy, I hung on to the belief, no actually it would be more correct to say knowledge, that things would be okay.

A divorce 4 years ago from my best friend of some 30 years shook me to my core. There had been rumblings and my intuition tried to tell me that the rumblings were not good. I ignored the rumblings and told my intuition to be quiet. I did not want to face what I truly knew was coming. Ignore it and it will go away. Turn away from it and it will not happen. If we don’t talk about it, face it, it’ll be okay. It was just too scary. That was the last time I didn’t listen to my intuition.

It is never pleasant when the world as you know it comes tumbling down around you. The foundation that I had built my life on cracked and caved in. I was ill prepared for the emotion involved. Not only did I need to deal with my own emotions but I had to deal with those of my son whose world had also crashed. I question whether I tackled it well. Some things yes, others no. I know today that I inflicted pain unwittingly. I can’t change that. I don’t know if I could have done it differently. Perhaps.

I stood up on the tumbled foundation and began to do some serious repair work. I used the network that I had. I expanded the network. I cleared the rubble and have now built up a reasonably solid structure to build on. And the construction is going well.

The thing that hadn’t yet fallen into place was the joy that I have always felt very lucky to feel inside. The total abandon to laughter. Seeing beauty in the small everyday occurrences was missing. The smile never quite reached my eyes. My heart was still heavy. There are still some tough life lessons going on in my life. I would really appreciate a short break from this classroom however things are as they are and life goes on as they say.

Something is different today from just one month ago. My situation hasn’t changed much. September 8th was different somehow. For the first time in a very, very long time, I felt those bubbles again. That absolutely magical sensation deep inside my soul – of joy!!! I wanted to dance, laugh, throw a hat in the air. I blew soap bubbles instead. My dog barked. I bubbled at the very core of me. What has happened?

A very fundamental shift has taken place. I have stopped holding on to the things from the past. I have let go of those things that I can’t do a damn thing about. Courage. To let go. I have allowed myself to be sad. I needed to allow myself to be happy, to be glad. To feel joy. I found the courage to let go of what I can’t change. I allowed myself to be. It has made all the difference. I think it is time to be happy again.

The jig is long practised, the steps well known.
The routine the same as always.
The partners, at times friends, at times not, take their marked places
And the dance begins.

Fantasy and Dreams nod politely to Reality and Reason. Never an easy pairing.
Dreams take flight with Reason the anchor.
Fantasy must soar, ever higher, ever farther from reach. Reality speaks in reasoning tones to curtail the flight of fancy.
Each leads the dance for a fraction of time.

Dreams step aside in anger as Reason sees no possibilities.
Reality forgets that anything can happen
Fantasy and imagination are squashed. The dance ends.
Partners at odds.

Reality partners with Dreams and careful steps attempted.
Fantasy steps out on the floor with Reason with only small spats about leading.
Imagination carefully peeks to see if these couples can manage.
Although a compromise is the only solution, they suit each other well.

Dreams must lead and Reality follows and helps to sort the endless nuances of the dance. Fantasy is entranced with the new steps as Reason attempts to follow and curtail only the totally ridiculous.
Lo and behold – it works!

I am sleepy, the little boy announces, to no one in particular.
There is no worry in his tone, in his voice. Just a statement of fact.
Take it or leave it – just like that.

He made his way to bed with the help of his sister. She patted his head and as he crawled into bed, she said nighty, night my sweet. Sweet dreams.

He lay down with the covers pulled right up to his chin. He grinned.
Thanks Sis and to you.

My simple wish for you is that your sleep is undisturbed and that your dreams are sweet.
Goodnight.

My pen is a shadow
on the wall
Scribbling frantically
Lest the thought be lost.

My pen dances in the flickering light
The candles cast in the dimly lit room
My thoughts skip and jump in my mind’s eye
Chasing my pen across the paper.

My thoughts race through my mind
Behind the windows of my eyes
The curtains to my mind shut
As night falls and sleep beckons.