Time moves on! Yes 6 months I’ve been home and what a journey, floods, storms, resettling, revising, and reconstituting a life that has spanned continents and friendships.
We are getting our lives back together.
The man in my life has finally got a car. While I miss the love you’s and goodbyes as I drop him off to work of a morning ... the coffee brought to the car from the barista on the ground floor of his building ... I love having some independence. To get out and about and get those ‘only one person can do’ jobs done!
We’ve shuffled and juggled furniture – always been part of our norm to rearrange and never let the impressions get too set in the carpet.
Gypsy. Roma. Bedouin. A mixture of all. Wanderlust? Yes!
Grey nomad – never!
While I dig over the garden and replant my little plot of green I look at the sky and smell the fresh green herbs in my kitchen garden corner and think of far off climes. Of friends now in fear, of lives and political landscapes changing. Missing those from afar, knowing their lives are changing too.
We carry our new far away brothers and sisters close to our hearts. We know that they have become part of the pulsing flow of our life held dear in our memories and safe in our spirit.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Thursday, September 9, 2010
What’s in a name ....
I used to think my name was French. If you look up all the baby books they tell you this and list reams of names of actresses who have the title and of all the different variations - the list of other names the ones I’m particularly not too fond of.
I’m not a Sue, Su, Suey, Suzy, Susie, Susan or Susannah or even a Sues, Suze or Suzan.
Many people just don’t understand that there is something very wrong when they assume that you can just give someone one of these names and think that it is OK.
You know - you have just met someone and you’re introduced and in the very next sentence they change your name to what they think is some affectionate come friendly version that they and you will think is cool.
Well excuse me.
You may as well call me Thelma. That’s what it feels like.
Don’t they get it?
It has never sat right this French business. Don’t get me wrong I love France, French food, French men, French art, and French movies. I speak a smattering of French that will assure me of not starving to death, not missing a train, and having cash in my wallet because I can find an ATM at the Gare du Nord.
One of the advantages of living in a different culture to the west is that you are immersed in a dimension of living that is so far outside your realm of understanding that with each conversation and each corner you turn you learn something new.
This is how I learnt about my name. Talking with an Omani acquaintance before I left Oman they told me “you know your name is Arabic”.
‘Suzani’ is an old name. It means ‘of the needle’ and refers to beautiful tribal embroideries from Central Asia. I’ve seen some and they are magnificent, vibrant and tell wonderful stories of women who have created beauty in often harsh, hostile desert environments.
It’s also the name of a 12th Century Persian poet and in Aramaic the name means ‘tribal beautiful’.
So Suzanne from France and associated with film stars, or Suzani from the Arabic world associated with beauty and works of art made with amazing skills and the essence of love.
I knew there was a reason why I loved embroidery.
I’m not a Sue, Su, Suey, Suzy, Susie, Susan or Susannah or even a Sues, Suze or Suzan.
Many people just don’t understand that there is something very wrong when they assume that you can just give someone one of these names and think that it is OK.
You know - you have just met someone and you’re introduced and in the very next sentence they change your name to what they think is some affectionate come friendly version that they and you will think is cool.
Well excuse me.
You may as well call me Thelma. That’s what it feels like.
Don’t they get it?
It has never sat right this French business. Don’t get me wrong I love France, French food, French men, French art, and French movies. I speak a smattering of French that will assure me of not starving to death, not missing a train, and having cash in my wallet because I can find an ATM at the Gare du Nord.
One of the advantages of living in a different culture to the west is that you are immersed in a dimension of living that is so far outside your realm of understanding that with each conversation and each corner you turn you learn something new.
This is how I learnt about my name. Talking with an Omani acquaintance before I left Oman they told me “you know your name is Arabic”.
‘Suzani’ is an old name. It means ‘of the needle’ and refers to beautiful tribal embroideries from Central Asia. I’ve seen some and they are magnificent, vibrant and tell wonderful stories of women who have created beauty in often harsh, hostile desert environments.
It’s also the name of a 12th Century Persian poet and in Aramaic the name means ‘tribal beautiful’.
So Suzanne from France and associated with film stars, or Suzani from the Arabic world associated with beauty and works of art made with amazing skills and the essence of love.
I knew there was a reason why I loved embroidery.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Somewhere out there....
Sounds like the name of a song. Is there anyone out there?
Sometimes it’s a bit like that. Tapping away putting down fleeting passages of my life like dust devils skittering across the back porch.
Is anyone listening?
Well I know Oprah isn’t. I have not received an ounce of attention from her!
Still I keep going.
What is the etiquette of the internet blog author? Is it too polite to ask who’s out there? Or is it just my need to know that someone else connects with the way I think.
Or is it like embroidery? The blogged word creating a tapestry of ideas and textures that colour the stories of my life, providing enjoyment by practising a skill, mastering and creating something others can enjoy.
Sometimes I wonder how far my words have spread. Like the six degrees of separation who am I now connected to? Am I just boring my Facebook friends to tears?
How many radars is my blogging a blip on?
How many hemispheres have I now traversed?
Sometimes it’s a bit like that. Tapping away putting down fleeting passages of my life like dust devils skittering across the back porch.
Is anyone listening?
Well I know Oprah isn’t. I have not received an ounce of attention from her!
Still I keep going.
What is the etiquette of the internet blog author? Is it too polite to ask who’s out there? Or is it just my need to know that someone else connects with the way I think.
Or is it like embroidery? The blogged word creating a tapestry of ideas and textures that colour the stories of my life, providing enjoyment by practising a skill, mastering and creating something others can enjoy.
Sometimes I wonder how far my words have spread. Like the six degrees of separation who am I now connected to? Am I just boring my Facebook friends to tears?
How many radars is my blogging a blip on?
How many hemispheres have I now traversed?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Aaaah growing up....
Who would want to be 18 again? Hands up? Those over fifty who would really want to go back there?
Didn’t think I’d get too many volunteers.
There are so many distractions, media, options, and choices while at the same time shackled to a body of raging hormones.
Life seems so short when you are 18 – tomorrow is an eternity away. Making decisions is all about the now.
It is an era of instant gratification. Not helped by the comfortable life parents give growing up, they expect that this is what life is going to be like and not realising of course that the comforts afforded them by parents comes from hard work and tough decisions along the way.
But growing up is also about learning to make your own decisions and sticking by them and about being responsible for these decisions and everything that goes with them.
Sometimes the reality is tough.
It’s not called tough love for nothing.
Didn’t think I’d get too many volunteers.
There are so many distractions, media, options, and choices while at the same time shackled to a body of raging hormones.
Life seems so short when you are 18 – tomorrow is an eternity away. Making decisions is all about the now.
It is an era of instant gratification. Not helped by the comfortable life parents give growing up, they expect that this is what life is going to be like and not realising of course that the comforts afforded them by parents comes from hard work and tough decisions along the way.
But growing up is also about learning to make your own decisions and sticking by them and about being responsible for these decisions and everything that goes with them.
Sometimes the reality is tough.
It’s not called tough love for nothing.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Decisions ... Decisions ....
It’s not easy being a parent, living life, keeping it all together and having time for you. Any parent knows the balancing act you do to get through each day and get to sleep at night.
Sometimes we have to make decisions tough decisions and then back up afterwards.
When we have relationships with others we enter into a very solemn contract with the other person. Nothing needs to be written and it goes without saying that we are responsible for how we treat that person, how we care for them, love them, share and deal with the tough things in life that come along.
That’s what we do. We stand up and are counted. We act with discipline, respect and responsibility.
It is never easy. I watched a great movie not long ago and one of the conversations stayed with me. Making hard decisions doesn’t make life easy – it just makes it easier.
So I’m back home giving the family a base, laying a foundation for my one true love when he returns to us. Families are important. We don’t have children to not share and listen to them, and when they need us we come.
That’s what families do.
Sometimes we have to make decisions tough decisions and then back up afterwards.
When we have relationships with others we enter into a very solemn contract with the other person. Nothing needs to be written and it goes without saying that we are responsible for how we treat that person, how we care for them, love them, share and deal with the tough things in life that come along.
That’s what we do. We stand up and are counted. We act with discipline, respect and responsibility.
It is never easy. I watched a great movie not long ago and one of the conversations stayed with me. Making hard decisions doesn’t make life easy – it just makes it easier.
So I’m back home giving the family a base, laying a foundation for my one true love when he returns to us. Families are important. We don’t have children to not share and listen to them, and when they need us we come.
That’s what families do.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Life’s too short ....
How many times do you hear that?
How many times do you say I’ll put that off until another time?
How many times do you not say how you feel when you’re hurt, upset, happy and full of love?
How many times do you not make that phone call to keep in touch, send that email, sms or card?
How many times do you get a corny email that makes you squirm in your seat about missing your friends and then there not there?
In our mobile world we move and move on, drift apart, don’t put the effort in, contact drops off to Christmas cards – “it’s OK though” because you know they will always be there.
Chris went 5 years ago from breast cancer.
And now news that Colin’s gone too.
Wonderful memories. Dinners – good food and wine. Lots of laughs. The stories of a great dane that still thought it was a puppy and wanted to sit on laps. A picture falling on the bed in the middle of the night. Weekends away together. We were pregnant at the same time, our children all born within a 3 year window. Babies growing up. Fairy parties. The trials and tribulations of just trying to get on with life with a young family. Sharing the happiness and the sadness.
Then moving and losing sight of how the children grow. Life gets filled with so many things.
And now they’re both gone.
And there are regrets – contact that tapered off but always you knew was there if you got in touch – that you could take up again where you left off.
While there are the memories that will keep them alive in our hearts I can’t but help think that the world is now a lesser place because Colin and Christine are no longer in it.
How many times do you say I’ll put that off until another time?
How many times do you not say how you feel when you’re hurt, upset, happy and full of love?
How many times do you not make that phone call to keep in touch, send that email, sms or card?
How many times do you get a corny email that makes you squirm in your seat about missing your friends and then there not there?
In our mobile world we move and move on, drift apart, don’t put the effort in, contact drops off to Christmas cards – “it’s OK though” because you know they will always be there.
Chris went 5 years ago from breast cancer.
And now news that Colin’s gone too.
Wonderful memories. Dinners – good food and wine. Lots of laughs. The stories of a great dane that still thought it was a puppy and wanted to sit on laps. A picture falling on the bed in the middle of the night. Weekends away together. We were pregnant at the same time, our children all born within a 3 year window. Babies growing up. Fairy parties. The trials and tribulations of just trying to get on with life with a young family. Sharing the happiness and the sadness.
Then moving and losing sight of how the children grow. Life gets filled with so many things.
And now they’re both gone.
And there are regrets – contact that tapered off but always you knew was there if you got in touch – that you could take up again where you left off.
While there are the memories that will keep them alive in our hearts I can’t but help think that the world is now a lesser place because Colin and Christine are no longer in it.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Drive Time.....
I like going for drives and exploring new places. It’s always an adventure.
I do like to have a bit of a plan, a general direction, how long it might take and, if it’s a mystery – I like to know that beforehand. It’s not all that much to ask is it?
I’m not particularly fond of speed bumps and will go out of my way to avoid them - ask the man in my life. And pot holes that can inflict such damage to my unsuspecting tyres and wheels – where do they come from?
I don’t particularly like driving aimlessly for hours to get to my destination if there is a quicker way. I really do prefer to be prepared.
If I’m going to have an adventure I want to know, take supplies, wear appropriate clothing and shoes, pack a picnic, camera and the assorted kit that can enhance the adventure experience.
I love spectacular scenery, the mystery of what can be around the next corner, the wildflower blooming in the impossible landscape and the delight in meeting fellow journeymen.
Driving, I guess, is a bit like life. The speed bumps, the pot holes, not having a plan and wondering what could possibly happen next. Sometimes we feel a bit aimless, the scenery is boring, the road uninspiring. Sometimes the plans just don't work.
We’d like to be able to see the future and know what is going to happen in advance but it just doesn’t work that way. The best we can do is make sure the car is ready, the engine serviced, we have good tyres and a tank full of fuel and always move forward.
I do like to have a bit of a plan, a general direction, how long it might take and, if it’s a mystery – I like to know that beforehand. It’s not all that much to ask is it?
I’m not particularly fond of speed bumps and will go out of my way to avoid them - ask the man in my life. And pot holes that can inflict such damage to my unsuspecting tyres and wheels – where do they come from?
I don’t particularly like driving aimlessly for hours to get to my destination if there is a quicker way. I really do prefer to be prepared.
If I’m going to have an adventure I want to know, take supplies, wear appropriate clothing and shoes, pack a picnic, camera and the assorted kit that can enhance the adventure experience.
I love spectacular scenery, the mystery of what can be around the next corner, the wildflower blooming in the impossible landscape and the delight in meeting fellow journeymen.
Driving, I guess, is a bit like life. The speed bumps, the pot holes, not having a plan and wondering what could possibly happen next. Sometimes we feel a bit aimless, the scenery is boring, the road uninspiring. Sometimes the plans just don't work.
We’d like to be able to see the future and know what is going to happen in advance but it just doesn’t work that way. The best we can do is make sure the car is ready, the engine serviced, we have good tyres and a tank full of fuel and always move forward.
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