A cousin to the swan?

My day at the office over, a warm evening beckoned………….  Home? No, corner shop for some bread and off to the park, and the beautiful lake to feed the ducks, or should I say the geese!  Eager, they wouldn’t leave me alone, pecking my trousers, my bag, couldn’t get the bread out of the bag quick enough,

White geese, nursery rhymes, childhood, play and laughter, cousin to the swan Louisa May Alcott said

She knew she was not nightingale, 
Yet spite of much abuse, 
She longed to help and cheer the world,

Although a plain gray goose. 

She could not sing, she could not fly, 
Nor even walk with grace, 
And all the farm-yard had declared 
A puddle was her place.

But something stronger than herself 
Would cry, ‘Go on, go on!’ 
Remember, though an humble fowl, 
You’re cousin to a swan.”

Some say that The goose exemplifies a call to the spiritual quest, particularly in its migration patterns and behaviors. The geese leaving in the autumn stirs our imagination and makes us want to search out new worlds and dimensions. Their incessant honking seems to be calling us to follow them on the great spiritual quest. Their return speaks of the fulfilled promises that great quests bring.

Mary Olive wrote this beautiful poem `’Wild Geese”

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees
 for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, 
over the prairies and the deep trees, 
the mountains and the rivers.
 Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, 
are heading home again.
 Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 
the world offers itself to your imagination, 
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — 
over and over announcing your place 
in the family of things.

The goose also is a totem of communication, especially through the use of stories. Its feather for a long time was the standard writing instrument. Individuals wishing to write can facilitate the process by working with the goose as a totem. It will stimulate the imagination and help move you through creative blocks. Writing with a goose quill pen will help this even more.

It was a perfect evening………………….

Touches my heart

I came across this poem this morning.  Searching for a quote to send to someone, I have  a folder with poems and quotes and I found the  E. E. Cummings poem that always touches me quite profoundly when I read it.

Recently for a storytelling session I was asked to write a story,  it wasnt until I read the poem again this morning I realised the story and the poem had great similarities.

Thought I would share this with you this morning.



somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near


your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose


or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;


nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing


(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands


E E Cummings







RIP dear lady

An Icon of my youth, Elizabeth Taylor what a beautiful lady you were, as Cleopatra you took my breath away………….

This first image is indelibly printed on my mind for many reasons,  I spent many hours copying this dress in every detail, and spent weeks  searching for the perfect serpent.  I felt a million dollars, but the dress was only ever worn once.

RIP dear lady


totally blown away by the incredible beauty of this video clip, The Third and  The Seventh

The combination of camera, architecture and the elements combined make for truly majestic viewing

it is 10 minutes long, for me the best started at around 4 minutes,


Colour creates an elevated mood

I saw this clip this morning and just knew I was meant to.  It was a true gift.  Colour lifts my soul, there is no doubt about it.  Expressing with colour is so beneficial to the psyche.   I find myself attracted to colour in my daily life more and more, bits and pieces I buy for my home lately are wild they make a wonderful contrast to the dark grey that forms the basis of my home.  My own personal clothing in the main is colourless, but inside me pulsates with many shades of violet, orange, yellow, mauve, magenta, vermillion, a whole rainbow.  Who wants their house painted? any takers?

A picture paints many stories

on my way to work this morning, this little trio on my dining table caught me eye,  they all tell a story in their own right, it just seemed strange they just landed there together,  captured in time now on my iphone.

The white roses were bought for me last Friday, it had been a really full on week, had just got in and making a cuppa when came a knock on the door,   A  beatiful bunch of white roses thrust in my hands,  the stress melted away, and a warmth flowed, someone cared, and that felt really good

the Dr Hofmann, figure, is one of my collectable toys, I bought this back in 2006, after I had completed the Hoffman Process, a week that literally changed my life.  They are not at all connected though, Dr Hofmann is a street artist ad the Hoffman process is a week long residential course where you get to use a baseball bat to great affect !!!  But I feel they were made for each other.

The image, is a page from vogue magazine dated 1962, I bought this at a vintage fare I attended over the weekend. the colours of pink and black look so striking I couldn’t resist.  In 1962 I was 13 years old, life was ahead of me, and looking back wow, what a life.  A real roller coaster of extreme highs and extreme lows. I feel I am on a new journey now and the Hoffman Process was a catalyst for this change   So much has happened to me, so much has been unearthed, forgiven and let go off, the process of transformation is still in the making but in my bones it feels good……………

colourful day

vintage fare, mexican embroidery, todays find…………  where will this end up? not sure, buying lots of colourful things lately, could be destined to be upholstered in the back of french chair?  or just a humble cushion, but wherever it ends up in my home, I know it will bring a big smile every time i see it……….

Oh and also some vintage adverts for Schiaperelli’s perfume Shocking by Marcel Vertes, now these are for my bedroom , this is for sure

All in a days work and ramblings of a tired woman

today has been long, cold and very stimulating.  Drove to Leamington Spa for a site meeting, we are going to be transforming this space into something quite spectacular.  But sitting there with reams of plans, it got colder and colder until my hands were like ice and my limbs felt stiff.  All good stuff though and a very positive outcome.

Three and half hours drive their, three back, a long while to assimilate all the information, it has to somehow mould together in a coherant vision, then and only then does if filter through into the virtual reality that sits in my brain……………..

also I have been thinking of Easter, wouldn’t it be nice to go away, although I am going to Malta on the 17th to carry out a workshop  and Chartres Cathedral with friends a bit later, I fancy a cottage by the sea or in a landscape to walk in the wilds of nature.

The other thing that has been in my thoughts is my Aunt, she is 82, I love her dearly, she such a wicked sense of humour, but she is in hospital after and epileptic fit and to see her in hospital makes me feel very sad and angry.  Angry because they treat the elderly with no dignity whatsoever.  I am appalled by the fact that young male nurses take my aunt to the toilet and wipe her bum, , they give her a blanket bath and wash her all over, and I mean all over.  How can they think this is acceptable for an elderly lady.  How absolutely embarrassing for her.  I was totally shocked, just did not realise this was common practice in hospitals now. Her eyes used to sparkle and gleam with vitality, her quick wit and sardonic smile always bought out the devil in me and we would laugh together…..  its all gone now, the sparkle has been turned off and the quick wit is now tainted with anger and frustration.

Oh and of course Saturday morning I am to my dear friend Tim’s’ funeral.  I so want to be there to say goodbye to such a lovely warm man.

I am shattered. sweet dreams to me, its been a long day x