Being Wordless

I have been a bit wordless lately. This means that I just have nothing to say, so I don’t say anything. Maybe this goes back to childhood, I don’t know. Sometimes, I just feel wordless…I have no words.

I have been obsessed with the sky however. I have taken copious photos of the sky this week. Until it went black and bucketed with rain for three days. Maybe that’s something to do with my wordlessness. I would like to make a quilt of the sky one day…just need to work out how.

As I have no words I thought I would share some of my sky pictures and a piece of prose that was read at our friends funeral recently.

Come Walk Among the Stars

My gift of life is a thing of transient beauty, a thing of mystery and, above all else, a miracle. It is a thing of beauty because of the soul, a mystery because it stretches between the invisible yesterday and the unknown tomorrow, a miracle because it is a composite of countless other lives. And, as my life has been gently touched by other lives, it follows that I have touched theirs too. One cannot always know the time of greatest need. Perhaps this is as it should be. Perhaps it is only for me to light one darkened corner of the path, to place a hand upon your shoulder as a symbol of my kinship and my love. Perhaps I came this way, as did you, to fill some special need – but this is not always given us to know. Sometimes a single word will lift the spirit. Sometimes words are so inadequate and sometimes it is destined that one must only listen. Sometimes a smile will bridge the empty darkness. Sometimes just the nearness is the answer. From many lives I have gathered courage and strength. I have learned humility and gentleness and forgiveness, and for all these blessings I am grateful. And so you must understand that your life is not your own. It has become a part of mine, and so it follows that my life does not belong to me – it is yours.

by Winson Abbott

Slow Down Mummy

This morning I spent an hour playing a knights/minecraft/Deltora Quest/Zac Power game with my 5 year old. (Can you tell he has older brothers?..no Bob the Builder for this kid!) It involved running around the house finding treasure with a rubber snake each…. It was kinda fun and he loved it, just he and I.

I found this poem last night and it really fitted with my life at the moment. I used to play with the boys a lot more than I do now. The older boys do spend a lot of time riding scooters outside now with their friends in the street, so I don’t get as much time with them anyway, but when they were 5 we used to play adventure games all the time. My little guy just isn’t getting the attention that his brothers did at his age. I’m sort of thinking thats why he is a bit more ..shall we say… difficult than they were.

Anyway here’s the poem. I’m going to make the effort to play with my little man more, it won’t be long before he’s off scootering down the street with his brothers. Then I won’t have anyone to play with.

It’s from Love can come in Bottles too.

slow down mummy, there is no need to rush,

slow down mummy, what is all the fuss?

slow down mummy, make yourself a cup of tea.

slow down mummy, come spend some time with me.

slow down mummy, let’s pull boots on for a walk,

let’s kick at piles of leaves, and smile and laugh and talk.

slow down mummy, you look ever so tired,

come sit and snuggle under the duvet, and rest with me a while.

slow down mummy, those dirty dishes can wait,

slow down mummy, let’s have some fun – bake a cake!

slow down mummy, I know you work a lot,

but sometimes mummy, it’s nice when you just stop.

sit with us a minute,

and listen to our day,

spend a cherished moment,

because our childhood won’t stay!

-R. Knight

Poety instead?

I have so much fabric, time to sew and loads of ideas but I just can’t seem to get it together today to do anything! This does happen a bit, does it happen to you?

I have decided to share my favourite poem with you instead.

Who?

I am not

that which you think I am.

I  plan

    hate

    love

    need

    cry

    laugh

All that anyone does.

I feel

    gentle

    giving

    wanting

    strength

    change – at a pace I cannot control.

Do not make me be

that which I think you think I am

for I am never that.

Learn me       anew

every moment.

Or know me not at all

                                         Lynemore Dover

 

I first discovered this poem many many years ago when I was in the midst of my turbulent, frenzied early twenties. It resonated with me then and still resonates all these years later, in my not so turbulent 40’s…. well 40!!

Do you have a special poem or phrase, one that has meaning for you?