Do you ever feel as though a song sung over you as you grew has somehow become inescapably part of who you are? Words and emotions poured into you as you were growing into who you are, became lodged into your mind. Reality formed around the song and trapped it there at the centre of you. And you will always find those words at the centre of your life, no matter how much you dance around them.
Do you? I do.

I took apart my world, my life. I dismantled it, watching it fall to pieces around me. I lived with my life hidden away and packed in boxes and I felt free of ties. I was unlabelled. I was just a person, plain, no possessions that marked me out or defined me. All the things I'd gathered around me that told stories of people and places and life lived were now gone. I felt unsettled, without meaning or proper place, but almost totally free.

Then I moved house.

I thought for a while about what it would be like to never open those boxes. I lived without most of my material possessions for a few days, including my computer and the internet, and I was fine. But boxes get opened when you need a clean pair of socks or a bottle opener. If I didn't have boxes to open, things would get bought. I'd accumulate stuff anyway, but it was nice to think about. (Isn't it good, being able to buy stuff when you need it? I wanted a rug - I didn't have a rug - I bought a rug. How marvellous. How lucky I am.)

At the moment I'm in the phase of feeling as if being in this new place will solve all my problems, despite knowing for a fact that in a few days I'll realise I have brought all my problems with me and they are not that easy to get rid off. But at least I'll be somewhere nice while I'm dealing with life.

I moved in on Saturday. On Sunday I met a neighbour called Chris and talked about bin day and car parking and the weather. This morning I met my neighbour Marian and talked about our gardens and how long she'd lived there (75 years), this afternoon I met another neighbour Peter who cut my hedge and also talked to me about the garden.
This might all seem very normal to you, but when you are used to the neighbours getting very drunk, playing loud music, having shouting matches on the street, and letting their dogs wander all over the place, it's a bit of a nice shock.

Right - next phase of life - I'm ready - bring it on.

An empty page with no preconceived ideas. What thoughts will push themselves to the fore and find their way to the keyboard to fill the white space?

Knowledge. Truth. Learning. It's important to me. What about belief and faith? I feel stuck between two worlds, poles apart, and not really in either. I knew I was going on a journey, and this is all this is, and I don't need to be afraid. Is it ironic to have faith that facing away from belief and heading out to learn is the right thing to do? Is it ironic to believe in the safety of faith always being there to come back to when you're setting out to challenge all your preconceived ideas on it?

I need to empty myself and start again. Clear the page. Add back only that which I discover to be right.

Being open minded doesn't just mean being open to new things and new ideas, but open to discovering that firmly held ideas might also be true.

I won't be 'told' what is right any more. I will examine and learn and discover for myself.

What a path.

Have you ever had your dreams suddenly an unexpectedly come true? Maybe it's the unexpected part of that which is creating the bubbling up of emotion deep inside, sort of between the heart and stomach. You know the place.

Something hoped for with so much energy poured into dreaming about. Something maybe almost given up on. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, when least expected it, it's there, and it's real. And you can hardly believe it.
Why in this situation, does there then follow feelings of being unworthy of owning that dream? Why does the brain search for things to taint it and spoil it and bring it down and make it less?

I know the answer to that question. Fear. Everything comes down to fear. (Isn't this so sad? Why can't everything be down to love?). Fear of how much the dream is wanted. Fear of the precious gift being snatched away cruelly before the dream is properly realised. Because dreams don't just come true in one go, it's a process, a journey, one step at a time. Anything can go wrong along the line, and the journey can happen all at once, or take forever to come to it's conclusion.

Isn't it funny how quite often it's hard to find words to say, a way to put heart to paper, and then one day suddenly you have a million things to say and a million thoughts and feelings and you could write and write and fill a book?
I feel like laughing!
And crying a bit too.

Ooh just have to add - very important - don't give up on that dream! Don't! If long ago you dreamt it and knew in your heart it had to be; then remember and don't give up. Because even when all seems lost, the world is still moving and turning and things are working unseen, until all the wheels and cogs are in the right place. (Because - as you know - you are not the centre of the universe! Why should your life and your dream have first priority?!) But - also important - often it won't just fall into your lap. Risk have to be taken, make it happen, keep following your heart and your instincts.

And be prepared for your dream not to be exactly as you expected! Sometimes you have a dream and you don't really know why and what it's for until it's in your hands.

And now, just a carnation...

Oooh you know what? Life is about faking it until you've made it real just by time and energy spent believing it and making others believe it. Isn't that weird? When I've spent so much time searching for 'truth' and it turns out quite a lot of truth is made up and the real truth is an R.E.M. song. Everybody hurts. People only show you what they want you to see. Life only shows you what it wants you to see. And maybe sometimes it's wrong to look too closely at the flaws people try and hide - when they are trying to be different and trying to be better. You can change and grow - but it's hard when people around you are focusing too hard on a person you don't want to be.

Oh and jealousy sucks but it's like a shadow, at least there is light to cast that shadow - love.

And cruelty and selfishness only comes from fear and pain. Which is hard to remember when people hurt you - but important to keep in mind.

Now a pretty picture. Well a picture anyway! I like trees!

Before sunrise

Went to bed early. Didn't sleep. Got up at 2am. Drove to coast. Slept in car on seafront until just before sunrise at 5. Walked on beach. Surrounded by soft pink light. Everything so still and quiet, like it was all whispering just for me. Took photos of sun rising over the sea. Welcomed the sun into the new day. Went home. Slept. Got up. Felt like the day belonged to me.


After sunrise

Woah!
You don't realise how far you have come and how much has changed until you take a peak back.

I have lived more in this last year than in the entire five years before that put together, probably more. I couldn't possibly tell it all, it would fill a book! But here are some things. Just things. New things. Learnt things. Discovered things. Like a snapshot, or a teaser, that probably means more to me than to you.

*Thank you, Hello, Goodbye, Please and a few other things in Turkish.
*I'm a passionate person, but not very good at being obsessive for long before feeling uncomfortable.
*I like and enjoy my drawing and painting styles, and playing around having fun.
*Song writing is possible. And fun. And very hard. (But easier with coffee)
*I love playing my guitar so very, very much and playing everyday keeps me happy and sane.
*Playing my guitar makes me feel more complete.
*Being a real actor is hard, and actors are real people.
*Loving people who are very not perfect is hard. Being friends with people who are very not perfect is hard. (Especially because I am also very not perfect.)
*But it's worth it so much of the time. The trick is working out when it's worth it and when it's not.
*I love jazz.
*I like musicals more than I thought I did.
*I feel more alive when my camera is in my hand.
*Respect is important. Being more open minded is important. Loving people is important. Not judging people is important. Seeing the individual is important.
*The search for truth is full of discovery but always ongoing and shifting and changing as you move through life and you change.
*The more you live life; the more complicated and difficult it gets.
*Coming alive and discovering new strength I didn't know I had makes me feel like I can achieve anything I want to.

Now here is a photo. Istanbul.

There's a white space with a flashing cursor and I don't know where to start or how to say everything I feel, or how to put into words everything that has happened.

I'm different. I know that for sure.

I've just been born. Set free. Unwrapped. And for a while it was all I could do just to blink at the light in wonder and feel and live and breathe and be and celebrate being alive.

Then the world rushes in. It presses upon you. It insists so loudly and it's deafening.

Choices important and insignificant advertise themselves upon the waiting space inside me. That fresh new empty space inside, that is waiting to be filled, that is crying out for inspiration and absorption.

But I’m teetering on the brink of life. Toes over the edge. Arms wheeling to keep balance. Because one step on the wrong path and I’m stuck there, with that choice and that precious clean emptiness inside is tarnished.

How big is this life! When you look over it from above, when you’re not living it but watching it, ready to take a first step inside the madness.

I desire every single tiny step to be perfect and right. I am so afraid of the muck of life getting it’s dirt on me. I’ve been set free and I want to stay free.

~~~

I can’t find the truth of now. I can’t find it and so I can’t write. I have urge to finish finding the truth before putting thoughts to paper. So I stop writing this entry. I stop for weeks, and only come back when I realise that I’m never going to finish my journey. I may find truths along the way, and I may learn, but the journey will never end. I can’t hold off and wait for final realisation.

So I apologise for thoughts put down here that are only half thought; thoughts that are just for the moment and may not be the truth for tomorrow.

I promise to try and say what is real and true when I feel it.

I really believed that everyone was decent. I honestly thought that despite the little things that may bug you about people, they are still all fair, and honest, and deep down just want to be nice, and have people be nice in return.

I'm so disappointed.

I keep wanting to make excuses for people, just so the world will be the place I thought it was.

I do know that there are lots of not so nice people in the world. But aren't they supposed to be obvious? Innocently, or stupidly, I thought that the people I would come into contact and make friends with, would never turn out to be anything but positive wonderful relationships. Why do I keep expecting this?

I've made a lot of new friends recently, and I honestly love them all. But because I'm so good at reading people, I know that things aren't all peachy. The people that tell me they love me, are annoyed at me. The people who say they love me, are lying. It's the most shocking thing in the world to me.

How can people so easily lie and live with a false smile while there is bitterness inside??

Am I really that different? I feel so alone. Tears fall because I just don't understand it, and it's like a black jagged scar on my beautiful world.

Stepping out, facing a challenge, taking a gamble. I could have taken a small step and gone shopping by myself, or met up with a friend for coffee, or something not totally crazy like going to London all by myself for two days.

Yeah I was scared. Yeah I wasn't sure I should be doing it. But yeah I really, really wanted to. And yeah I knew I would regret it if I didn't.

When I felt unsure, I made myself picture it as a challenge, like a mountain to climb, and I was going to climb that mountain no matter what. Because once I reached the top, I would know that I could do anything.

Was it worth it? Yeah, more than I can say. Was it hard? Oh yes. It wiped me out. But I'm still finding things that I have gained from the experience; gifts given that are not physical objects but the kind of gifts that keep growing in your heart and that change you for the better.

I just have to deal with that heart-wrenching downer now. The realisation that those special things that happened are now nothing but memories. The fear that the glow in your heart you had will never be experienced again. The wish to be able to stop the flow of time, and keep a moment like a bubble around you.

I have a suspicion that to selfishly clutch those moments to my heart will only hasten their crumble to dust, and to let them live forever is to pass on that joy somehow. That is a challenge that is even greater.

This might just be the most shallow post I've ever written but...

I just bought some size 10 jeans!!! (For friends across the Atlantic I think that's 8, not sure.)

My reasoning behind this not being utterly shallow is that since becoming ill I've obviously put on a whole load of weight (well, a stone anyway) and been unable to do anything to get rid of it. I've been trying for months to be a bit more active, fighting my illness at every step, and also eating more healthily (which I've heard is quite good for you!). Being totally unfit is most depressing for someone who used to be very active, and putting on weight was just another thing to be depressed about. I'm still really unfit, but at least I'm now back to my pre-illness weight which feels like a huge achievement, and even it doesn't actually mean anything, it's a massive moral booster. I've reclaimed one of the many things I've lost.

On a much more important note, I walked down a country lane bare-foot today. It was brilliant. The difference between bare footed and shoed, is like the difference between cycling and driving. You can feel the heat through your soles where the sun has warmed the road and the cooler spots shaded by trees. You can feel every single tiny undulation and pebble and texture. You have to watch where you're walking much more so you don't step on a beetle or in horse droppings. You feel much more connected to where you are, what you are doing and where you are going. It's freeing.
I used to walk everywhere barefoot. I don't know why I stopped. It's great.

Halfway down the lane I suddenly realise why I feel good. Why I feel safe and surrounded by love. It is the trees. That is the difference. That is what makes this place feel special above other places. The trees here are old. They are oak, pine and beech, (which is special in itself, getting those together in one place,) rather than the messy halfhearted sprinkles of Sycamore, Ash and the occasional Horse Chestnut. Here, if you just open your eyes, you can see that the trees are in charge. They whisper together over your head. They see everything, and they know.

Now I am aware. I raise my head slightly as if I'm loosening my branches. The wind blows. The trees talk. I close my eyes and let myself become still inside, but swaying in the playful breeze. My hair flicks and dances in time with the leaves far above me and I am dancing the same dance. Singing the same song. I am for a while, part of the life of the wood.

I open my eyes and I am facing a particularly tall and beautiful old beech tree. It's at this point I realise that I'm a Beech dryad. I run. I climb the bank, and over the fence, and through the tall bracken until I've reached my tree. I fling my arms around it and hold it tight. It's like holding an old friend, and being held back. It's warm and solid. I feel so much peace and so much life that tears come to my eyes at the thought of letting go. Still holding on, I look up the massive silver trunk and feel small but not at all insignificant somehow. The top of my tree sways and rustles it's beautiful leaves. I feel as if I have passed on my message and it's being whispered through the tree tops. I give my tree one last squeeze and say goodbye.
Sorry I don't have a photo of me hugging the tree. This is probably the same tree but in spring, so it's looking a bit younger and more sprightly. There's no bracken either. You'll also notice I'm looking a bit like a stick figure!!

I'm allergic to tissues!! How stupid is that! I've got a stinking cold, and snot is everywhere (you really wanted to know that!) and I blow my nose and then spend the next few minutes sneezing non-stop with my eyes tingling and itching. Repeat ad-infinitum. Argh, it's crazy! I'm trying to use hankies but I don't like them much (rough on my little nose and just downright yucky too).

I'm sure everyone remembers that annoying person from school who never got ill and never had a day off school once. Maybe you were that person! They get through a whole year without a single day off and they get flipping prize from the headmaster for it!! Well that's just not fair. What are they awarding the prize for, freaky genetics?
My siblings and I were always off school ill and when we did get ill we always got it really badly. I'm still the same now, totally useless for a whole week (including being unable to open fridge doors). Yet my hubby who had the exact same cold, because he gave it to me (thanks hub), he doesn't have a single day off work! (But then he is an android.)
It's annoying enough that these people get colds and the worst that it gets is like 'oh I need to blow my nose' honk 'ah that's better'. Grrr. But they go to work with all their germs and spread it all around! They should be made to stay at home! I don't care if it's only just a little sniffle!! To somebody like me it won't be!! I have snot coming out of my ears nearly!

It's frustrating and funny, perhaps even ironic in some way that I'm not sure of.

I like singing. No. I love singing, and even that doesn't really describe with justice, how singing makes me feel. It makes me feel alive, it makes my heart thump. My brain is concentrating on every word, every breath, the shape of my throat and the exact sound I am making. Control. I'm feeling the music inside and living it, in every muscle of my body.

So here I am, really living, really alive, and yet, when the music has stopped I am left with only sadness. Because for me, really living, it hurts. It leaves me weak. Then my dreams die.

I actually feel like giggling and I don't know why. So why do I feel a lump in my throat? I'm not sure, so I'll just keep typing and see. I'm afraid that all the things in life that make me feel alive have been taken from me forever. That sounds rather dramatic. It's not that bad. I have hope and a belief that I will get better. But what about my dreams? Will it be too late? Is it already too late? Probably.

There is so much inside me, so much passion, and nowhere for it to go, and not enough energy to help. So much that I want to do. So much living.

What a dark post! But it's the truth of right now. So it's going to stay.

(Photo of rain in horrible thunderstorm yesterday.)