Beginnings

 Last week I went to my first Tai Chi class. Having wanted to do something martial-arty for years.  So, as Pilates practice made my neck feel worse and the classes were expensive and at times that I coudn't make, I decided to be brave and go see for myself.

It's always difficult being the clueless newbie! Last year, that was me at work, this year it is me trying my best to follow the demonstration of our tutor, who looks like a buddhist monk - shaved head, gentle demenour (he works in a physio as a therapist)  He moves like a crane, dancing with it's wings outstretched.  Flowing and smooth.  But he's the tutor so he should be a master of his craft.

We start with an awareness/breathing exericse to loosen up and I breathe a sigh of relief and wish I'd not had to rush home from work/had so much tea.

45 minutes later I am trying to remember my left from my right - I didn't last the whole "beginners form" class, but sat and watched the last 15 minutes.  It's hard - to focus, to flow, to be gentle and precise, when all my sport has been strength based - swiming, walking, lifting a few weights, cycling in the gym. None of these prepared me for the subtle shifts and transfer of weight and what he described as "moving meditation" although, for me, swimming can feel like prayer.

I will go back again and remember that it takes 36 hours of practice at least - to master the beginner's form. 

Remember

It's good to remember

And I marked it, standing in pitch black, 

listening to an owl relentlessly calling.

Swirling and scribing liquid fire 

Scattering star sparks

And standing in wonder.

Looking at friends faces

wondering like small children

Fully alive.

COP26

 It's hard to listen to the news sometimes isn't it?  Domesday has been the theme for so long - Covid19 and now COP26.  

It's very tempting to stick your head under the duvet and pretend it all isn't happening.  It's such a complicated, inter-connected world after all.  Greta Thunberg is well intentioned, but she annoys most of the folks I have worked with - think it is her simplictiy of vision, her contention that we must act, without any idea of the cost implication of how complex societies will implement the ideas she champions.  She certainly annoys me if I am honest.

This week, I have shouted at my TV - some show on saving money and the planet - listing the changes as ground source heat pumps - but "you'd need a big garden" oh and they are ridiculously expensive, electric or hybrid vehicle - expensive and nowhere yet to charge it in Terrace-house land.  What, I wonder, will they do with all the scrapped conventional cars?  Let alone that most mechanics are, apparently, not trained in dealing with this technology.

I did a quick "carbon footprint" calculator  - WWF, because an article on BBC news tells me that the sustainable footprint is 2.3 - well, no surprise that I am above that, even with a simplish life - I drive to work and I don't think 15 miles by bike is going to happen anytime soon.

But, positive, small steps.  I have swapped to a veg box, delivered on a more affordable plan, and a couple of other changes too.  There are some lovely, positive podcasts on BBC sounds that I would recommend - 39 ways to save the planet and also People fixing the planet which is from BBC world service.. From harvesting locusts for livestock feed, to building multi-storey homes with wood, not concrete and many other innovative and genuinely encouraging things.

There is enough doom and gloom in the world even if it is needed.

Flames

 A friend of mine, Morag Lobley has a book of "poems and wonderings" published.  It's called "Flames" and is available from Bridge Books or I can get a copy.

It's excellent - Morag writes from her heart as she says in her introduction - and she can certainly write!  There are reflections on bible characters, on current events, and on Jesus.  Most touchingly, there is a section on grief.  I don't have experience of loss like this, but for my own much smaller loss, I have found her poem "Steps" very, very resonant, as a friend has said to me, "Judith would have wanted you to enjoy life" - which she would, of course!

"Steps" Morag Lobley (Flames)

He died..

And I said,

I choose life,

Not knowing how big a step that was.

The next day

 I chose life again

and the next....

How

    many     

        steps?"

Poems drive deep into our hearts.  I used to write, but I find that I can't write that kind of thing so well, so will make do with blogs!  There will be a blog soon on my adventures in the South Hams, when I have a bit of headspace.

SAD - for beginners!

 SAD - seasonal affective disorder.  It's not "winter blues" even if I may tell you it is.  I have been doing some reading around as it is something I have experienced, as regularly as the seasons, for about 10 years.

It starts, usually for me, as the light wanes, early September and kicks in as the clocks change bringing dark mornings, dark evenings.  It starts to lift in February - as the light changes.

I read that if you have 2 or more episodes, it is diagnosed.  That would be two years of miserable winters!

The treatment varies - for me, the ususal "have you tried a light box" works not at all.  I take a bit more anti-depressant in the winter - my brilliant doctor and I have worked on a pattern that is effective although the weight gain makes me snarl in total utter frustration.  It is a very miserable side effect.

The best things are simple: SAD makes me want to sit on the sofa, go to bed early and hibernate and not see people.  It is like one of Harry Potters Dementors - it draws the life and energy out of you, leaving you no energy to do the good things that work.

So each Autumn I make a plan.  This usually involves me booking an early swim, and forcing myself to walk for 10 minutes outside even if it is just about light, before work.  Planning meals - otherwise I eat chocolate! And I start to plan a spring holiday - in this case it will be in March, two walking days in Cornwall. St Ives - beautiful in Spring, horribly crowded in Summer.

I'm planning on leaving my trainers by the door, so that I practically fall over them because I work 40 hours and that's a fairly long day.  I need to get out.  I'm preaching to myself here.

Being honest to friends is another good strategy.  And now I'm off to swim!

Shades of Autumn

 "Bereavement" (Ann Lewin"Waiting for the Kingfisher"

Dark place

Where, vulnerable, alone,

We lick the wounds of loss.

Wise friends say little,

But hold us in their love,

And listen.

There are no guarantees,

Only reports from those

Who've been there. 

That there is hope,

And life persists."

The words above say it far better for me than words of my own.  

I lit an early morning candle for Judith in the Cathedral, a place about which, working professionally for the diocese, she had very mixed feelings.  It helped me anyway.  

It's the little things I miss - teasing her that everything has to match - toilet rolls, towels, soap, washing up liquid - who on earth matches their washing up liquid to the colour of their kitchen?  Judith did.

Hearing her voice in my head, quietly and sanely responding.  Walking on Dartmoor - crossing a river on a sluice gate because "the map says there is a path" and me saying "but it isn't on the ground" The retort was a cross "well it should be" I couldn't argue but we ended up wringing out socks and tipping out boots after ploughing through sodden marshy ground the other (safely path strewn) side of the river.

Listening to the endless search for an impossible item of clothing - straight trousers in a year of flappy wide ones, white sandals (!) in a year of navy blue. And wondering who else cleans window frames on an evening when you could be sitting in the garden with a book?

I think it will be standing room only at her funeral.

September ups and downs

 What a September!  A little summary should follow I think.  We have had weeks working in a tiny training room and now we have been unleased on the remodelled new office.  Comments vary from "airport lounge" - blue carpet, white walls, gregory logo obscured glass breakout rooms, lots of space.  It's much nicer but at the moment, oh so noisy!  Myself and Stacey are in the cool, quiet corner but we face three noisy managers who shout at their laptop microphones when they should be using their headseats.

We are surrounded by piled up dismantled desks, emptied cardboard boxes, discarded ceiling light boxes. But it is clean, light and I like it!

Sandwiched in between was a holiday in Cornwall. Most of the week the skies were like this:

The usual mix of some lovely coastal waks, amazing smoked salmon and scrambled egg breakfasts, leisurely coffees and a bit of touristy shopping in Porthleven. And lazy evenings watching sunsets and Netflix.

It's hard to write a blog sometimes.  

This is one of the times, because for the last few months, my long time friend Judith has been slowly losing her fight with cancer.  To put it into perspective, I've literally known Judith half my life.  We walked together in the same walking group, worshipped together in St Leonards church, laughed and, in my case cried together, through my divorce.  And then as she had her first and second cancer diagnoses.  Through losing her parents, through losing my job - several times, redundancies are common these days.

I'd been to my aunty and uncles. A long day, a long drive.  I poured a tin of G&T.  The phone rang - Judith. "I have spine cancer" I remember saying to her "did you just say...." Hard to take it in. 

Cancer is such a bastard.  It takes the gentle, wise, stubborn friend.  Who hated floppy trousers - wide legs - such as I will wear to her funeral.  Whose warm smile and enthusiasm and cry of "mmm" when presented with anything she liked, I am sorely missing. Who had to have all film and TV references explained as she was too busy being kind to people.

September is a lovely month.  But I will remember Judith with love.