They say it takes all sorts to make a world. Well I’ve definitely seen 3 of them. Sorts that is. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I never would have believed it.
There I sat, outside the village supermarket, on a wooden bench, under the shade of an old beech tree, happily munching away on my salad sandwich people watching as usual.
A big sign had been erected over the trolley park and as I began to read it, three people, one after the other, three people walked into a bar that had been placed across the trolley park to prevent access.
I’m sorry I couldn’t contain my laughter.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fill In the Blank.”
I like the idea. Wish it were that simple. But it would be just a shade of an overview. Of course, it would be really helpful if I could remember half of the songs I have loved over the decades. Never did have a good memory for names; I guess they didn’t have that much of an impact on me.
What I like in this moment may be completely the opposite in the next. Ask me the same question tomorrow and the answer would probably be quite different.
Every now and then I have a nostalgia trip. I wonder what might have been. I allow myself to indulge in memories. I taste the joy, the fun, the freedom. I know that is only part of the picture but it’s a fun ride for a while.
I go through phases where I awake in the morning with a song running through my head. It will stay all day and sometimes for days on end. Quite often there is some deep meaning within the words. When the penny finally drops, the song goes away.
Other times, someone may mention a word or a phrase. Take this morning, as I walked through my hallway, I noticed a tiny pin prick of a hole in the heavy curtains covering the doorway. The word lodged ‘hole’. Doomed, I was doomed to the repetitive song of ‘there’s a hole in my bucket’! Lasted up until lunch time. I’d forgotten about that until now. Hope I haven’t triggered its repeat cycle again.
As I write this the only song that comes to mind is, You’ll Never Walk Alone by Gerry and The Pacemakers. I have no affinity with the football club that has adopted it but I can see why they did. I find it deeply moving and the strength of inner power it generates never ceases to amaze me.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mix Tape.”
I’m in the zone a lot, well ‘my zone’ that is. Everything I do I seem to lose myself in it. I have little or no sense of time these days. In fact, if you put me in a situation where I have to meet a deadline, I can feel the wings stiffening up.
I developed the ability to lose myself, (though I didn’t call it that, I called it being present), because there were so many chores I had to do that I loathed that I simply had to find a way to carry them out and appreciate them.
So I began being present in the moment, just noticing how I was doing the task, what it felt like, how it smelled (beautiful laundry brought in from hanging outside on a warm day) for instance.
When I chop vegetables it has become almost therapeutic. My focus is entirely on the task, meticulously working through the vegetables, noticing their textures, colours and smells as I enjoy the moment.
I didn’t plan it this way, but all these things have become a form of relaxation and strangely enough, I no longer experience them as a chore.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Zone.”
I love broken things. I think I missed my vocation in life, I should have set up a junk yard. I can see potential uses for most things and always enjoyed the challenge of repairing something.
This old rusty gate has seen better days. It gave up the ghost of its past life a number of years ago but has been given another role – of keeping the sheep out!
I love the contrast of the rusty metal against the old stone wall with the patches of lichens to brighten it up, all set in a sea of green.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Broken.”
Lingering is something I used to do a lot of when I was younger. Looking back, some part of me must have felt that I would never experience anything as good again and the way my childhood panned out that was more often the case.Hanging on until the very last moment and being dragged away from something was torture.
At some point in time along the way I did a complete turn-around. I momentarily linger in a way that is a fully drinking in of whatever it is I am experiencing. I am so deeply entrenched in the moment that I am not consciously connected to any beginning or end. Thing is you see, I like change. Though occasionally I can loathe it.
But generally I enjoy the beginning of the next thing, there is always something new just around the corner. I have no wish to linger on anything for too long. Some part of me knows when to move on.
I stop, drink in the view. It touches me so deeply on all levels that if I choose, I can remember it again at a later date. But I probably won’t, I will be too deeply involved in my next moment in a similar way that takes me to that wondrous place on an inner level where time has no meaning.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Linger.”
For this week’s contribution to Tuesdays of Texture (de monte y mar), I snapped this beautiful fluffy looking bumble bee, its delicate wings vibrating rapidly as it indulged in the pollen of a sunny-coloured dandelion shooting up amongst the grasses in my garden.
So captivating I could have stayed there all afternoon.
I could ramble about this for hours, so here’s an image to sum it up.
To date, it has been a year of waiting, wondering when change will happen.
I am waiting to move on to pastures new but the currents are at a lull and have been for quite a while.
Where I am is ok, just bobbing up and down on the gentle currents.
But I am longing for the movement of a high tide that will take me on my next adventure.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “State of Your Year.”