The last days of the year were filled with fun and games, good food and wine, and sitting cosy, watching movies in our matching pjs (a gift from Brendan and Jane). We chose a lemon tree (no evergreens left) and decorated it with Christmas ornaments, got stuck in a muddy field in Mary's car - heavy with wine - and were pulled out by a tractor.
We drove to Castres to dine at Cuq en Terrasses (a gourmet feast) and to Causades to visit a hat store for Jane. The last day we spent in Toulouse, eating at Entrecôte (a favourite) and then onto La Halle de la Machine with giant Minotaur and Dragon that moves, breathes fire and scared poor Seb. Ten days passed in a flash and my family left to celebrate New Year's Eve in London. I welcomed in the new year by myself.
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FOR A NEW BEGINNING
by John O’Donohue
"In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you."
I've been trying to write a blog for the new year but the wonderful ideas and sentences that form in my head never quite make it to the page. I am always afraid of appearing too simple, and of becoming so vulnerable that I curl into a ball and die. (I always had a flair for the melodramatic.)
Still the fear I felt when I read my last proprioceptive writing exercise about my shattered heart was as real as the childhood fear of monsters under my bed.
I would like to "find ease in risk". I think my biggest problem is that I haven't been writing and am out of practice. Easily remedied. I have begun. Since January 1st, I've set myself the task of writing for 15 minutes, after my morning coffee. And yes, the writing is pretty simple and I do write the obvious but my friend Susan once told me that this is my gift.
On January 1st, I wrote "I wish to grow old disgracefully like Billy Connolly. I wish to be kinder to myself but not bullshit myself. I want to feel freer about asking for help. I want to face my fears (here I go again) and do it anyway. I want to stop being so self-effacing. I want to love myself. This reminds me of Brendan's question of many years ago. "Would the people who love you love you if you were stupid, worthless? And underneath this thought is the thought that I smoke to remain a bad girl, a rebel who doesn't want to spend every minute trying to be perfect."
And so the new year begins...
I am trying to establish new habits. I am learning to ask for help. Before Rob died, I simply yelled up the stairs. Now, I must ask an outsider. So be it.
I do not want to live a small life. I must give up - for now - trying to find the perfect word, sentence, transition and just write.