Connecting…

When I was working on the psychic line I received a telephone call that found it’s way into my heart memories and I discovered it there recently.

The lady who called was terminally ill and started the call with,

“I don’t have any questions as such, I just wanted to ring.”

In that instant, I dropped every label/shield that I was holding, as I instinctively knew she had no expectations. I wasn’t a medium, psychic, woman, mother, or anything else. I was simply one soul connecting to another.

We talked about fresh washing hanging out on the line, the sound of children’s laughter, wrapping in soft towels after a bath, birdsong at dawn, a large amount of rubbish on the telly (even though there are umpteen channels), the wisdom of avoiding the news, knitting, an absorbing play on the radio, a clean kitchen floor and the grace of expression through writing.

I shared with her a story of being out shopping with friends and two of us squealing with delight when we saw a new range of notebooks. One (somewhat pithy) member of our group commented,

“Surely one notebook is enough?”

“One? I don’t understand the question.” I replied.

We giggled over the pure joy of finding a notebook with a great cover and found ourselves agreeing that writing with heart and our own voice gifts connection. Sitting quietly she had found herself imagining stories for children and we ended our call with her intention to write them down.

When things tumble and fall…

After a tiring day, I pulled my wellies on and headed off to walk the beach in the last hour of daylight. There among the dog walkers, fishermen and birds, I returned to my calm centre. There was a chap pottering on the beach with intent and as I walked up the slipway, I waited for him to follow. ‘If he smiles at me’ I thought to myself, ‘I will ask him what he was doing.’ He did and walked towards me opening up his hands, which held broken fishing lines and weights.

‘I was fishing at high tide earlier and the currents kept breaking my lines.’

We stood looking at his hands full of his beachcombing rescues.

‘I found a huge fish attached to one, still alive, so I walked him back to the sea.’

We wished each other well and headed back home.

I have spent time lately creating a 50th birthday jumper for a friend’s husband. With love, I gathered measurements, found just the right yarn, followed the pattern faithfully and after finishing it stood back, frowned and got my tape measure out. It’s massive and I mean ‘tent-like’ massive. I know he’s a chap who works outside with chainsaws and the like, but with the best will in the world, he’s not that big! They were dealt a shattering life blow in the last few days and are struggling. All plans have tumbled to dust and as we spoke yesterday I heard her cry for me to talk about anything that gave them some respite. So, ‘tent’ like knitting it is! I may not have created a garment he can wear, but we have a heart story that will make us chuckle for quite some time.

My lovely buddy, Suzette B, runs a blog where she posted about ‘waters flow’ today and it made me think of all the times our plans and projects turn to dust and how life flows on. Of how we keep on creating new plans and projects regardless of labels, judgments, shattered hearts and expectations on how things are supposed to be.

It is how it is and love is the ever-flowing constant. ❤

Seeing silvery softness instead of grey, where love is always light….

Friday....

In the run-up to this weekend there was a soft feel to everything. A hush, where even the ferry to Dublin left port quietly. A couple walking their dog commented that the day was grey and I looked out to sea and that is not what I saw. In the peace the sea lapped softly, the birds standing quietly at her edge, with the sunlight filtering through the clouds catching sparkles in the reflection on the water.

It’s all too easy to get busy and caught up in ‘daily stuff’ and I wonder how often we stop to see the sparkle in the ordinary. To pay attention without labelling. The labels we give everything lead us to think things are a certain way, which prompts feelings, which leads to words and follows through to actions. All from a label?

Every day on the service a familiar refrain is ‘When will I find love?’, ‘Where is my soulmate?’ ‘Is he/she the one?’. When did life get so labelled that we lost ourselves like this?

I feel we are still there in the hush. Our inner peace and contentment is there, hidden in that space that we fill with activity, noise, judgement and labels.

It makes you ponder on what we could find in our own space. When we pay attention without labelling. Observing without judgment.

What loving wonders await us in the hush.