“……and a little child shall lead them….” (Isaiah 11:6)

The painting on the left has become my icon, a personal reflection of inner movement as I struggle with a search for meaning. Lost in a wilderness. As a fledging eaglet, in 2001, I blindly launched myself from the familiarity of a thirty year marriage, into mid-air. This canvas became my backbone, a changing landscape which demanded I be an alchemist: bringing forth an inner vision on an earthly plain. I have not yet succeeded, but here I draw line. The painting is not rewarded by praise, only by challenge and engagement. Even that has the complication of language and interpretation.

After moving with the icon from rented accommodation to the first home I ever owned, the two flying eagles lost their dominance, the eggs cracked open to reveal three little eaglets. Sometime after this, whilst working with a group of adult survivors of childhood rape and abuse, it was noted that what I painted as the Tree of Life was seen to be the back of a child’s head. How was I going to survive in the wilderness with eaglets and a small child? Even a little Mouse, a survivor’s important child part, lived on the painting, not too far from the hungry eaglets – predator versus prey.

Out of this grew a huge figure, that you see now. She no longer stands naked. Her Celtic beliefs of availability, vulnerability and acceptance are integrated within her. She, who is I, accept that my death will be shortly here. I see the after life through a glass darkly (1 Corinthians 13).

Love to you all.

14 February 1949 – 17 January 2010.

Kate died on Sunday 17th January 2010

Gone but not forgotten

She holds a place in our hearts for the support, love, friendship and care she gave.

Please take this opportunity to share your thoughts and feelings at this time. You don’t need to register or anything; just share what is on your mind.

Here is an example – in English, where we talk about “giving up our soul”, in French the equivalent translates as “giving back  our soul”.  What a difference.  In both, the idea that the soul has an existence beyond ours, but the French is much less individualistic.  Our soul is something which we have been lent and must return.  ‘Soul’ as a life-force in the physical body, as long as the physical body can endure.  And when it dies, the soul returns and becomes part again of the source.

I don’t believe in past lives.  But I do believe in a ‘soul thread’, a continuation of each one of us through our actions and our words, through our relationship with each person we have ever met, the means by which we have changed them and they us…   the way in which we have affected them, which will alter in some small way how they in turn affect others.  And so the soul thread is eternal, and perhaps what we give back is the means our bodies have on loan to keep spinning that thread by connecting with others.  It is temporary.  But when we stop spinning, our part of the soul thread is still there.  That is the soul’s eternity… and ours.

Little Dramas (A Dance Ability tribute) Walking by the practice,I was intrigued. Three women,One man.dressed simply in black.Two physically disabled students. Two begged me to stay and watch the tribute to a retiring teacher. Four friends danceinto our sight.They stand as if waiting for a bus to drive into our hallway. They lean and support each other up,posing head on shoulders and assisted by cane or chair. The friends sit and wait on bench.Each takes a turn to stand, stretch, and dance. They flutter and flitter into beautiful butterflies. A long, blue cloth flows into a cool,refreshing stream. It bathes and showers them.It gives stones for skipping or walking the causeway. Larger groups gather.Curious eyes sparkle.The retiree arrives.She sits front and center. Our man Jerry pays tribute snaking along the floor with striking cane and romantic song. Nicole TaylorDecember 2003

So what matter if you can’t recall my name? I am out there still, for ever, somewhere, and you could find me, if you just knew where to look.

By SC Jan 2009

Yes, this is based on the childhood film about Lassie! However, Lily was seduced by a neighbourhood cat. There are several cats who lie in wait for the new dog on the block, preening themselves, making sure Lily has seen them - and then dart off! This particular morning the walk is ending and Lily isn’t on her lead. The nearby path runs parallel to a main road, busy with morning traffic. Lily is off in a split second, completely deaf to my shouts. I listen to inner bodily peace and make my down to the road. There she is strolling along on the central lines, on her way back to me. I sigh with relief that cars are slowing down and I collect her safely.

The next episode is when Lily barked warning a distant dog not to approach her - it did: a small terrier. Lily does a runner, deaf yet again to my cries. I trust my body senses and about ten minutes later I arrive home to find her strolling around waiting for me. At least I know she knows the way Home!

The learning for me is to keep desensitising her to fear triggers by using a whistle to alert her, saying “psstttt” (dog whisperer technique) when near other dogs / cats, and using the bribe of “biscuit”. “Biscuit” has worked on a number of occasions when I noticed the glint in her eye the wander lust - a throw back to her freedom days of being a Street Girl! Every time, so far, her love of food (and me) has won the day.

There are lots of things I can tell you about Lily, and how she has made such a difference to, for instance, my inner ache of loneliness. Lily is so affectionate and if she hears me upset will immediately come to me.

I would love to hear your own therapeutic relationship with your pet / or animals, birds as well as the challenges!

This draws the question. How has your relationship or non relationship with your father /dad impacted on you? What influence has your relationship with dad, his legacy, had and still having on your relationships in the present day.

Has this relationship enabled you or disarmed you? Encouraged or disrupted? Left you feeling loved or ?

I hope that this space will be given to reflect upon the variety of influences a parent can have on our lives and what we are left with.

Thinking out-loud

Jill

Here below are more drawings of patients and staff. The first two, Nicola and Lucie, are in the chemo ward to observe and create links of support for chemo patients and their ordinary life. I notice, as I go to Ward Three, week by week, that patients come and go. My chemo is ‘continuous’ until the side effects become too toxic. Fiona, the ward Sister, said there were only three others on this sort of treatment.

Actively Observing

Contemplating

Supporting Health

Always Busy

Holding my Breath

Too Young for Bowel Cancer?

Some of my Story, too

Sometimes Unseen, but always there

Warming the veins

There Together

Hi everyone,

I’d like to begin a discussion about ‘Mothers’ . To stimulate discussion I am downloading a cartoon depicting different types of Mothering. Maybe your childhood was ‘good enough’ rather than ‘Hell’. I guess, even though much of life in side the home was Hell (uncomfortable, scary, punishing …) , I still wouldn’t choose another life, because I am Me - I have survived a dysfunctional upbringing. The surviving and bringing good out of darkness has made me strong - strong enough to keep facing the truth about myself and others. My mum was: Worry Mum, Mad Mum, Crazy Mum, Guilt Mum … goodness, the list goes on. Sigh. I think, in a later post, I may talk about ‘Gone Mum’ : being rejected by mother is perhaps the most painful?

I look forward to your responses.

Kind regards

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