Circles of Confusion : ii

The circles have been back, really bright and busy this morning. Revisit May's archive for the original posts on this. It was great to emerge in and out of these thoughts while coming to consciousness at 7am.

By the way - (May 22) - does anyone know where the swifts have gone?


{Today's soundtrack: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Howl}

Being Here Now

Enough shocking image quality (last post) for the sake of advancing my gadget competence–that's never been a good reason to exhibit photographs. Sorry.

Back to here and now, there are some interesting grown up things going on at the moment with work, but secretly this can be exhausting at times–let's do a little dance and show everyone our tummies instead.

Anyone else know the feeling? Please say yes...




{Today's soundtrack: Ray LaMontagne - Till The Sun Turns Black}

{PS. I know he's appeared before but it's for good reason. If you want to find out why, I would recommend getting along to one of Ray's UK tour dates. If you need beauty in your life you'll find it here.}

Passion Flower

This is great - I've just worked out how to upload posts from my phone! This little flower was blooming in solitude on my balcony last night so I figured it had to be shared.

Did you know that this plant is not called 'passion' meaning love, but the passion of Christ? There is symbolism attached to each shape in the flower, right down to the 72 'radial filaments' in the flower representing the crown of thorns. There's a description here in the last section about its name (although two apostles seem to have been forgotten in order to give meaning to 10 petals).

And I was wrong to tell a friend the other day that it's different from passion fruit. This plant does fruit, but it's not the fruit you would normally eat.

Yummy.


{Today's soundtrack: Beth Orton - Daybreaker}

{Today's soundtrack}

Caught myself making a playlist called '* really nice' (add a star * so it sits at the top of your playlist library) because I couldn't swamp myself with enough sounds in exploration of a thing that's burrowing somewhere deep and making me smile at strangers in the street.

It's one of those feelings when you get a rare glimpse into a place not really in our remit to understand, but you just know everything's going to be alright. I mean, you really know.

Rather than a quiet addition at the end, today's soundtrack is something bigger to dwell on while tilling the heart's soil - I can't really talk too much about this, here's the playlist (track/artist):

1. Roscoe - Midlake
2. Chromakey Dreamcoat - Boards of Canada
3. Spiegel im Spiegel - Arvo Part
4. Sol - To Rococo Rot
5. The Plug - Bonobo
6. Flim - Aphex Twin
7. Ralome - Plaid
8. Any Other Name - Thomas Newman
9. Fault Line - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
10. Salvation - Rae & Christian
11. Bad - U2
12. Want You to Know - Freelance Hellraiser
13. Tristesse Globale - Royksopp
14. Safe in Your Arms - Beth Orton
15. Break Me Gently - Doves
16. Above the Clouds - Turin Breaks
17. Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne
18. Earth To Calm - Scott Matthews
19. The Part Where You Let Go - Hem

Waves of sound, waves of feelings, waves of experience.





So soothing and strong, the wave is one of the best poems I know. It doesn't deny the present but it still tells you something else is on its way. That is what tilling the soil is about too - paying attention to the ground today knowing there are seeds yet to be sown. That - I think - is why my sounds receive higher billing today because they acknowledge such rhythms.


{Today's soundtrack: as above}

A Lundy tear-jerker

There's a climb on the west side of Lundy called Devil's Slide and it is famous for its dramatic and sheer drop over 400ft straight into the sea, like this:




I went with my climbing pals Rob, Woz and Greg (big bruisers the lot of them) to climb this on our recent trip, and it left me in tears. Here's why.

The effects of the gorgeous forty-five minute walk up there start you off with a real sense of other-worldliness - just being on the island itself is an elemental wake up call. Is it because we are detached from the sturdy comfort of mainland, or so exposed to the dramatic elements up there on the cliffs in total isolation? Or is it both things combined, and more? Abseiling down to the start of the climb just above the ocean crashing below heightens this feeling of being immersed in the earth's rhythms, and harnessing the adrenalin buzz into a balanced poise up this route is an intense exercise. It is a thrill.

Two-thirds up the route is a belay-stance just a foot wide. You have to stand on this and pay out rope while your partner makes the next pitch of the climb. You can just see Warren standing there in these pictures, with about 300ft below him to sea level:




I stood on that ledge for quite a while as Greg made the top pitch. As I waited (he had to sit while someone else finished up top) I turned to face out and the view started opening out away from me with massive celestial theatre. Looking out from here, I started crying without being able to stop - watching this view it felt like the whole of heaven was on its way across the ocean towards me and I had absolutely no choice in the matter. Goodness was coming to get me and I had nowhere to run! It was absolutely incredible ... something transfigured and I had to give in to it.

Because of the face I saw in the rock at the top of the climb, looking out at all this with a peaceful smile in place, I felt it was only appropriate to rename this climb 'Jacob's Ladder'. The presence of angels was felt.

It's hard to know how to finish this post, such an experience just doesn't sit in a conclusion very easily...




{Today's soundtrack: Soundtrack from The Ladykillers}

Our Sonj

On a beach padding around with sand between toes and my lovely pal holding fort in the van... this is in tribute to my excellent friend Sonja, who is off with another friend and kids for a few days while I beaver away at work, sorry not to join them.



Sonja has an enormous heart, is one of the most generous and loving friends you could long for, and her commitment to our collective need for attachment is a force to be reckoned with. It's how we're built, and it's what she champions, and I can safely say that without this woman life would be a lot less love-filled for an awful lot of people.


Because we can't sit still, we escaped to Cornwall for a few days surfing, though the waves were tiny so we opted for a paddle out on boards along the headland for maybe a mile or so, exploring caves, spotting dolphins etc. There's something about being very tiny out on deep, massive, open water with someone special that helps you really appreciate them and what they are in your life. Not to be gushy about it because it would make her cringe, but this woman is fantastic and gives me a reason for being. In surfing rules, you're supposed to stay within the chequered flags for safety, but using this analogy across our friendship the flags are often ignored. To have a friendship full of risk–meaning there are few places that person won't accompany you–is amazing. It is true shelter, and like air itself. It's the best.

Sonja is this to me, as is her man JJ - very special people who have seen the grubbiest of me aswell as the shiniest, and still come back for more! I love them.

Whoever does that for you, tell them. Go on, dare ya...



{Today's soundtrack: Doves - Break Me Gently, from Lost Souls}

Kids in Limo's

Picture this one yourself.

"I love you! You're hot!" was the cry that caught my attention as I walked past Bristol's rude lap-dancing clubs, though as it was slightly high pitched I was confused. Ah, then I saw - five young faces squeezing out of a tiny window at the back of an enormous stretch limo, and this cry coming from the ten-year-old with extra hair gel. The irony of where we were at the time was totally lost on them, I'm certain!

It's hilarious, they may think I'm the woman of their dreams, but then so did the lads in next two cars which followed just the same route within minutes of each other...

I hope instead of cramming out of one tiny window all evening, inside that massive shiny car they're all revved up on Monster Munch, playing twister and doing robotics as every young kid should, not cat-calling a woman in her thirties who happens to be walking past a sex-club. Where are their parents? Get a * grip.

It was funny though.


{Today's soundtrack: Master Kong Nay from Cambodia, on UK tour}

{By the way, the accompanying documentary to Kong Nay's tour, 'The Flute Player', is a very moving and inspiring account of Cambodia's traditional music post-Khmer Rouge being resurrected for reconciliation with past, vision for future. See it if you can, it's good stuff.}

Secret Place

Do you feel like going to a secret place today? I do, and this feeling started almost as soon as it began raining.

Here are a couple of really secret and special places: the lamp room in Lundy's Old Lighthouse, and a little boathouse at the edge of a lake in a place so secret I'm never telling you where it is in case it becomes crowded...



So, back to this rain and why I want to hide.

A friend inspired me once by saying she quite liked the rain as a reminder of the cycle of things, life coming around again. In a good moment I appreciate this, but feel just now would be a good time to find a secret and special place where being patient in the cycle of things isn't such an effort! All well and good being patient when you're tucked away in a lovely space away from things, but here, today, life, it's people, jobs and longings, jeepers that discomforting impatience has really kicked in...

When you get a glimpse of something brilliant it's like enjoying lovely sunshine beaming on you for a few delicious hours. It's like being in the secret places. But as the rain muscles in again and you have to get down to the work of getting that brilliant thing up and running it hardly seems fair to have your thinking robbed by the strategies of warm layers and sensible shoes for a to b movement.

What am I really waiting for? Nothing short of revolution I'm afraid, so we're in for the long haul! Anyone got any tips?


{Today's soundtrack: Quantic - The 5th Exotic}

Glamour

I really, REALLY don't want to look at this week's GLAMOUR mag as I check out at Sainsbury's with my Walkers sweet chili crisps and proper coffee... a picture of preggers Myleene Class with no clothes on and no dimples at all, like it's bad enough that I have to look at the floor hurrying by the extended-family-sized chocolate bar aisle to buy loads of fruit that I'll struggle to eat before it rots in the bowl, that's right after I've just spent half an hour trying to decide which fake tan stuff to buy because I've tried loads and they all go orange on my knees and ankles anyway, and I know everyone loves Myleene (sorry) but I just confess publicly now I find her too perfect for my understanding and therefore don't want her smiling smugly at me as I exit the supermarket.

Why are they called 'super' anyway? They're just massive and confusing and make you think you need loads of things that you actually don't.

I'm really not in a bad mood today, actually quite happy because of friends like this:


...who I get to share my birthday with tomorrow! It's due to tip down with rain, which is a problem as we'll be on a boat for the evening, but hey, with mates like this the sun is always shining...

In fact, why couldn't Glamour get real and put this on their front cover? I suppose the point is that it's called 'Glamour' and not 'Beauty', so if it's beauty I'm after I shouldn't be getting the two confused in the first place. Don't ya think?


{Today's soundtrack: Stevie Wonder - Greatest Hits vol2}

A Strong Rope

There comes a point in a person's life and adventures when the question of resources comes along. Each of us have resources–skills and gifts, inspirations, competence, strength and wisdom gathered from experience–and it's only right to ask how these things might combine for a bigger and better use. It's good to consider responsible use of our resources, and certainly if we can learn to do this for ourselves then we are better placed to consider this corporately, collectively.

However, there is a difficult place to sit while this is being worked out, and that's what these little frayed ropes are about.



A strong rope is made up of many strands held together, stronger than the single thread. Some ropes are smooth and sleek, others rough and rugged, some twisted and some knotted, some held together with a piece of twine. They've all got a purpose.

And so it is with us and our own resources. Sometimes it's good to sit with the unwound strands for a while and appreciate what's going in to this strong rope of yours. It's so tempting to rush the job of splicing but this does take time, and the waiting gives space to appreciate every one of those funny, frazzled and seemingly chaotic strands.

Slightly frayed? As yet unwritten.


{Today's soundtrack: it's pop but I love it, Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten}

Impossible to sit still

For some reason, this simple scene stopped me in my tracks a couple of weeks ago during a struggle to properly engage holiday style. I recall it today because this is my first full day back at work for a while, and I'm finding it very hard to sit still and concentrate on one path of work thought for the whole afternoon.

Sigh. Life's just too big to contain at a desk in a building...

It's nice work, really not complaining, but somewhere between the Cornish coastline, a retreat in Sussex and a lighthouse on Lundy in exhilarating gales my head and heart appear to have entered orbit. Here's hoping that this humble image will do its work!

Interestingly, though maybe inexplicably, this is one of those scenes that made me lose track of time (as per last post - despite it being in a working fishing harbour and therefore quite a stinky place to hang out). Perhaps its power is in the balanced and reflected angles that draw equilibrium... or maybe the uncomplicated arrangement of shape and colour that was refreshing to my tired eyes, always so busy taking everything in. Either way, this is my gentle way in again while trying to come back to earth and work out where to begin.


{Today's soundtrack: Orbital - Lush | Halcyon}

{Additional soundtrack: Arvo Part - Spiegel Im Spiegel}

Homeland

Yeah, the thing about that piece of ocean is this: it's difficult to work out exactly when enough is enough. Here's a friend of mine to sit and watch with and ask, when was the last time you sat in a beautiful place just to watch, and truly, truly lost track of time? I mean, really lost it, with no idea at all for how long you had been captivated?


This afternoon I drove back across the country from east to west, into the sunset. I'd been with some beautiful folk on a retreat in the grounds of a large Sussex estate, letting the powerful messages soak through while we took in the tranquility of the grounds - hiding in a tiny wooden boathouse opening over the edge of a lake (which we swam in at midnight), sitting amongst lavender in a secret prayer garden, feeling and hearing the wind in trees of the thick wood and walking barefoot across blankets of lush green grass.

This is our homeland. It's our fabric and the ground that nourishes us by a sort of osmosis.

This land we live in is a beautiful place, and I can't take in enough of it. It leaves me amazed and transfixed. There's something soulfully inexplicable going on in the way it is appearing at the moment, and I'm finding it very difficult to take my eyes off it.

Hungry to be in the wide open spaces... and if it's okay I just need to go move out of range again and look for a little while longer, try to find something more directive in the mysterious draw of this place I happen to have been born in. Sorry therefore this means the lightbox is a little quiet, but I have a feeling you might understand.


{Today's soundtrack: Soweto Gospel Choir}