Weights and measures

This is one of the tracks from my ultimate playlist (pending post). If I was forced to reduce said playlist by half, this majestic tune would remain. I cannot say that it’s my favourite of all time because one could never choose just one song. However, it does dance around that arena, like a beautiful pixie dances in a circle of mushrooms. Also it is somewhat apt:

You've made your decision

Now get up and leave

The familiar sting of the woodcutter's swing to the tree

I'll fall in the forest

To elbows and knees

And it won't make a sound

Since there's no-one around here to see

I was prepared to love you

And never expect anything of you

If the spirit has left you baby

Don't lie to yourself

Put them old records on

And admit that it's gone somewhere else

Just because we're beasts of blame by nature

Doesn't mean that you should carry it again

It's a question of needs and not rosary beads in the end

I was prepared to love you

And never expect anything of you

There's no patron saint of silent restraint

Baby there ain't no sword in our lake

Just a funeral wake

You were the coldest star in the sky

Only I couldn't see it: I was blind.

And in comes the black night

Calling your name since you were born

Only I couldn't hear it: I was empty as a drum.

I was prepared to love you

And never expect anything of you

And there's no patron saint of silent restraint

Baby there ain't no sword in our lake

Just a funeral wake

Human Traffic - Puffin Da Herb

On moderately evil days:

I always have the urge to hide behind a wall, then casually start playing this track super loud, when I spot people wandering along, splif in hand. Let the paranoia commence.....

I probably won't do it but damn the temptation is strong!

Xxx

Carpe bucket

I embarked upon something of a spiritual journey some years ago. As time has passed, I've stumbled upon a greater awareness of the meaning of life, the universe and everything. My findings have been shared on this very blog. I've also been working on the ultimate playlist. With all these factors in mind, it seems a fitting time to create my Bucket List. Drum roll maestro please......

• Go to Cornwall with my daughter. Fairly achievable. It just involves money, time and intention. I have two of these already. Create a connection in Cornwall which enables us to travel there frequently and inexpensively. Not so achievable.
• To sing in a public arena, and by public arena, I do NOT mean The X-Factor or karaoke. Im thinking of something with acoustic guitars and tambourines. I've done a little of this in times gone by. Albeit in a semi-hiding-in-the-corner capacity. It's time to get brave.
• Learn to play the guitar. Just a little bit. I'm not a wannabe Clapton but I certainly won't dismiss the possibility of achieving this outright. Ideally, and this is a bucket list, so let's stick with ideals, I'd like someone with patience to teach me for free. Preferably someone who is really hot, has a beard and long hair. 
• Do more to help the homeless, refugees and victims of domestic abuse. I'm not suggesting that my charitable efforts should be limited to these areas but each of these are of particular importance to me.
• To study at post-graduate level. I might need to wait until my daughter is a lot older before I'm able to. Unless my employer begins a PhD programme of some sort. Here's hoping. 
• To write for a sort of living. I've made a little money in the past from writing freelance. I've also written blogs, media releases and the like in a properly paid career type job! More writing for pennies is needed!
• Compile my vast array of comedy parenting moments into a book of some sort.  
• Be here now. In other words, practice mindfulness. I want this to be my natural go to mode, rather than reverting to daydreaming or over-thinking.
• Go back to Ludschurch and re-embrace it's energy. It's a truly magical place. I feel much more in tune with myself now.  The interaction of place and self should be intense.
• In keeping with the above intention, I want to visit as many magical places as possible - the legends of Arthur, ancient burial sites, Stonehenge under cover of darkness, sites associated with The Knights Templar……I can feel another list coming on.
• Buy a record player! Have records. Need more. Can't play them.
• Visit Florence. I desperately wanted to travel there when I was in Venice but it didn't happen.
• Spend a whole weekend, or maybe just one day lost in an art gallery. Not physically lost. I can read signs. Emotionally lost. I used to lose myself to art quite regularly so arguably it's an unworthy candidate for the Bucket List. However, the actual loss of time in a gallery seems a remote memory now. It's almost another me. It's not an easy win for a single, working parent when childcare is very limited.
• Improve my poetry by absorbing many great poets. My aim is also to read more poetry for it's own beauty, not only as fodder for my creativity. That would be reductive and kinda yucky. Operation Poetry has already stepped up a gear. Im reading The Comedy of Errors (not a poem but it still counts) and a selection of poems by John Donne. 
• Finish the ultimate playlist and download every track onto an actual playlist.
• Meditate within a stone circle. Yep. That's on the list. Don't mock the hippy.
• Support and encourage my daughter to create all her dreams and ambitions. I'd like to do much the same for my niece, nephew and my daughter's half brother.
• Read every book written by Pratchett at least twice. I've read a hefty number of them once. The second journey through Pratchett's imagination needs to be in chronological order. It should not be Mort before The Light Fantastic, for example.
• Finish JRR Tolkien's Unfinished Tales. Oh the irony.
• Commence the ultimate romance with my soulmate / metaphorical unicorn / twin flame. A tricky addition because it implies that I have some power over this. It's not like I can buy myself a ticket to Perfect Boyfriend Land. I can probably go to the places that these men frequent. Where exactly is that again? What do you mean it's Narnia? Can’t be. That's a mythical place from a children's story. Oh wait. Damn. I'm still leaving it on. I'm not that jaded. 
• Visit Molly Leigh's grave. It sounds rather morbid but it truly isn't. She was reputed to be a witch and I'm sure I remember someone saying that she is distantly related on my dad's side.
• Finish all my creative projects, including the half painted mirror resting against the wall.
• Reach a level of ink coverage, where I deem myself artistically complete. Probably unachievable because inking is much like Pringles.
• Watch the Northern Lights. Happy to do this from anywhere really but Norway would be rather lovely.
• Collaborate on a creative project with a romantic partner. I attempted this with an ex. It was more collabor-nibble than collabor-ate with him. Therefore it was a bit shit. The creative project in question needs to be balanced between the protagonists and profoundly compelling. It does rather hinge on the soulmate thing so erm possibly unachievable.
• Singapore.  Basically, go there and do stuff. I've been to their airport and that was pretty emotional so I can only begin to imagine the majesty of Singapore itself.

There is another Bucket List rolling around the ether somewhere. It might even be on this very blog. It matters not. This is the list I'm working to. I acknowledge the lack of: swim with dolphins, space travel, bungee jump and so forth. Dolphins are lovely from a safe-non-submerged-in-water distance. Unless some dolphin or other has ‘swim with Hazel’ on it's Bucket List, it feels rather wrong to have them on mine. Moreover, they might be busy leaving and thanking us for all the fish. As Bill Bailey has accurately noted, space travel is rather tricky without years of training. I'd certainly enjoy seeing earth from space but it's not really feasible unless we count the views on Google Earth. Bungee jumping might bring on the methophical bucket, so no, it's not for me. I believe that a Bucket List should be roughly achievable, not terrifying and not likely to increase the likelihood of a sticky end. Significantly, it should also be spiritually, emotionally and / or intellectually expansive.

I might add to this list. Time will tell. However, what I really want to do is achieve as much as I can before I depart this mortal coil. Who knows how long we each have. Carpe diem! Carpe bucket!

Xxxx

Songs that transform us

Last night I watched the magnificent Bill Bailey. He was, and always is, achingly funny. I 'suffered’ actual laughter pain but damn was it worth it. Furthermore, his Hindi-Indie cover of Creep reminded me that this track, by Radiohead, is one of my most favourite of all time. There is something in the lyrics, the music and Thom Yorke’s eerily beautiful voice that resonates in my soul.

Creep was a transformative song for me. Released around the time that I was beginning to become more like myself and in so doing, realised that I didn't fit into the social spaces I once occupied as a teen. This feeling was highlighted when I queued to access a trendy bar with friends. I was probably about eighteen, thus, post transformative romantic relationship number one. I recall that I wore a pink headscarf and a tye-dyed shirt. The bouncers made me remove it. Nay nay - stop with this rudeness - I removed the scarf, not the shirt. As I unravelled my hair from it's temporary pinkness, Creep played into my mind. I knew then, that I no longer wanted to exist in plastic spaces, filled with wannabe barbie dolls. I simply didn't belong there. This was also the start of a super snobby, up-my-own-arse music period in my life. If a toooooonn wasn't in Melody Maker or NME, it was shite.

Now that I'm knocking on a bit, I can happily frequent most spaces where a social life plays out. I quite like trendy bars - they tend sell exciting over-priced cocktails and the bathroom's have sofas. More importantly, now I'm 41ish, wherever I roam, I am entirely myself. And it is worth noting that outfits do not maketh the woman, unless said outfit is a fairy costume.

Returning to Creep, it has, unsurprisingly, a place on my playlist of all time or, to give it a better description, it enjoys a space on the soundtrack of my life thus far. Ye gods, give me access to every song ever written, provide me with wine, a dance floor and good company - then I'll smile from my toes to the tips of my hair.............

Thoughts of life soundtracks probably engenders an idea - the actual creation of my ultimate playlist. What an undertaking that would be! It could take weeks to create such a list. So many songs of greatness. It would probably require more effort and a larger word count than my dissertation…..but…...I think it needs to happen….....so watch this space………..

Yours, as ever,


The RGF xxx

Dinner with John Lennon

I'm almost enjoying a fantasy relationship with Mr Nutt. That's Mr Nutt from Pratchett's Unseen Academicals. Indeed, Nutt is more accessible than any other potential relationship (as there are none). I excitedly interact with Nutt on a daily basis. I know his mind. I listen intently. Admittedly, I do all this as an observer of The Discworld but let us not focus on the details. 

Yes, i'm excited about Nutt. He is (spoiler alert) an Orc, thus, exceedingly unattractive on physical level but he is brilliant. He even surpasses the god-like genius of Bill Bailey. I know, hard to believe isn't it. He might even be as witty. Coincidentally, I bought two Bill Bailey DVD's recently. Despite Bill's lack of shiny appearance, I still bloody fancy him.

In a sense, I might as well have a crush on the librarian because of his vast literary knowledge. But that would be truly weird, given his species. And I say that without being even slightly species-ist. Plus I'd prefer it if dialogue evolved the constant repetition of the word ook (goodness, even Groot’s vocabulary is more expansive). No, orcs and orangutans are quite different. One is entirely mythical for a start.

Basically I really appreciate Nutt’s intellectual prowess. The man (orc) is incredible. There are few whose knowledge of philosophy spans several cultures, are able speak a number of languages, have the powers of alchemy and are able to shoe a horse without breaking out a sweat. Yes there is that risk that he might rip your head off at any given moment and those claws could prove tricky during romantic interactions but supreme intelligence is highly attractive.

I suppose the main problem with Nutt is that he - like Star-lord, Wade Wilson and the unicorn - is not real. Essentially then, I seek a dream man who encapsulates all the positive characteristics of the people above. Yep. Absolutely bound to find someone like that. No problemo. I'll squeeze it in between the lottery win, manifesting world peace and dinner with John Lennon.

Yours,

The RGF

Xxxx xxxx xxxx

Star-lord

............ Star-lord is also an acceptable option as boyfriend material. I don't want to be too restricted by the idea of Wade Wilson or metaphorical unicorns. One's dream man can be many different things. Piercing blue eyes probably help.  A sense of being somehow cosmic helps too and Star-lord is certainly cosmic - as in totally far-out-man and a galactic traveller. What do you mean I'm unrealistic? ;-)

I love that he's holding a pint and a ray gun in the picture below. Haha. Nonchalantly being a hero. Indeed, superheroes aren't meant to be perfect. As Colossus states in Deadpool - it's just four or five moments.

A place in my soul

It has dawned on me - dawn being rather apt, given the subject of this post - that for me, Crewe is the place of endings, beginnings and yet is profoundly liminal.  

We caught a train to Crewe, when I left my marriage. It was an unintentional destination, just a choice between two sides of a level crossing. After one night in a hotel, whilst I decided whether i was brave enough to stay away - we moved into a house which belonged to a women's refuge. Somehow, my daughter knew we'd move there before I did. She was very distressed that we were in the wrong place about two weeks before we left my ex husband. She described the colour of the two doors on the semi-detatched house we ended up in, and was determined that we already lived there. It seems that young children are not restricted by time.  The refuge was, by it's nature, liminal. Our in between phase - emotionally and spatially. A difficult time but it gave me great strength for our future.  

Once we found a home, Crewe became our new beginning. It was from our apartment that I returned to myself. I walked on eggshells frequently before I left my ex - because if I trod carefully, I might avoid the abuse. It took a lot of time to remember that I could stomp as loudly as I wished and it was completely safe to just be me.

My journey with my current employer began at Crewe. Physically, it will soon continue elsewhere, as we are to move sites. In my heart I feel something of a lament. As a town, it certainly lacks glamour but it has space in my soul.

Sometimes endings lead to beautiful new beginnings.  Indeed, a particular space can encapsulate the end, the transitional and the start.

Thank you to Crewe. If not for you, I might be less me. 

Xxx xxx xxx

Last train

This is what KLF is about

Also known as the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu

Furthermore known as the Jams

All aboard, all aboard, ooh

Come on boy, do you wanna ride?

All aboard, all aboard, ooh

Last train to Trancentral

Come on boy, do you wanna ride?

Come on boy, do you wanna ride?

Rockman Rock and Kingboy D

On the last train to Trancentral

Justified Ancients of Mu Mu

Back with the heavyweight

Back with the heavyweight

Back with the heavyweight, Jams

All aboard, all aboard, ooh

Come on boy, do you wanna ride?

All aboard, all aboard, ooh

Last train to Trancentral

Lines on glass

The shape of you

Through time waiting

Just lines on glass

Hand turning, body aching

Like the first

But with fragments

Patterning on me

Still here but absent

As opening bud

Switched on slowly

Unchanged in time

Light in veins only

Darkness cannot see

Opened and adrift

In pure stillness 

You'd fill the rift 

Daydream believer

I'm prone to daydream. I recall that someone once joked that I'd be late for an appointment because I’d get distracted by puddles on the way. This was something of an exaggeration but essentially, he had a point. Perhaps not puddles, I'm not five but flowers, rainbows and unicorns. We need unicorns. The mythical and the metaphorical. Anyway, I digress.

I'm absolutely useless with time, dramatically tangential and get lost in anything I deem worthy of losing myself in. If I was super punctual, always made a point succinctly and never got lost in dreamy things - I think I'd be rather boring. I like the surreal, the artsy, the weird and the wonderful. I want to cry endlessly at poetry. I enjoy moving between the words of a book as if I'm a character within it. Wandering aimlessly around a museum or an art gallery is just immense. If I'm not lost in mine, then I love losing myself in the product of someone else's imagination. Then enjoying that process of it becoming something other than it was. Perspective is a wonderful thing.

It's as if I'm offering evidence of my tendency to go off on a tangent …….. I believe that words matter: the spoken word, what is written, the lyrics in a song. Words, how I love thee - let me count the ways. And music, I cannot count the ways because the ways are infinite. Let your soul sing, embrace music. I feel that it doesn't do to attach oneself to a genre. The impact of the sound is all that matters. As someone lovely once said "everything but not anything”.

Returning to the point because I tend to eventually….. I'm prone to wild imaginings. I can get a little carried away with my inner world. In fact (or rather, in fiction), it can overshadow the real world. This is beautiful but it sometimes loses hours of time. Yet does the loss of time matter when the magic of dreams have created it. What is time anyway but a man-made construct designed to constrict us. Whereas the dream - in slumber, in imagination and the dreams of our hopes are, without question, designed to free us.

Here's to dreams!

Here's to freedom!

Yours,

The Renegade Glitter Fairy

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Dreamcatcher

Ever since my daughter made us a Dreamcatcher at Holiday Club, I have remembered many more of my dreams. Actually to be accurate, it's ever since I hung the Dreamcatcher from the bedroom window. I suppose it could be a coincidence but I'm going to steal a Sherlock quote here "the universe is seldom so lazy".

It's easy to test out the theory:
1. Buy or make a Dreamcatcher.
2. Install in the window.
3. Wait for sleepy land.
4. Enjoy dreamworld.

They look rather beautiful too so it's one of those win win situations.

Xxx xxx xxx

Dreams

Here's to dreams:  The life of the subconscious mind which tells us much about our wakeful desires and hopes. Dreams, as surreal as they are, wind themselves around our real feelings. Aside from lucid dreaming, which is tricky, we cannot control our thoughts in slumber. But we can use our dreams to make sense of ourselves.



Xxx

Blush face

I’m a strong, confident woman. Now that I’m firmly entrenched in my 40s (at least until my 50s) I have the kind of confidence that only comes with age. I really do dance as though no one is watching – largely because no one is but partly because I honestly couldn’t give a fuck what people think of me. My moves might not be groovy but are they mine, damn it, and I flipping like them. I'm not necessarily stylish but whatever style I have, is mine. I own it. I probably don't work it but it definitely belongs to me. I have a tattoo. I have quite a few but in particular, I have some Latin words on the inside of my elbow. It states 'Nosce te ipsum' which means 'Know thyself'. And I do.  It's not a vague target. My self-knowledge is bang on and evolving.

So why the heck do I still become like a teenager in certain situations. I start out all self-assured then………boomshanka, a temporal interruption. Hello, big-massive blush face!  It starts somewhere around my feet and works its' way up until every part of me is glowing like I'm radioactive. This happened today. And it wasn't sexy. I attempted to hide behind my sort of fringe but I suspect this was unsuccessful.

So I'm just a girl sometimes, hiding in a woman. Vulnerable and silly. Brave and empowered. I'm a number of different things. And sometimes I blush.

Yours,

The Renegade Glitter Fairy

Xxxxxxxxxx

Daffodil daydream

"Love is a beautiful thing. When you find it, the whole world tastes like daffodil daydream. So you've got to hold onto love. Tight. And never let go. Don't make the same mistakes I did, got it? Or else the whole world tastes like Mama June after hot yoga".


One of the many profound Deadpool quotes. The humour within is dark, deliciously so. And the words are wise, ridiculously so. Much kudos to the writers and, contrary to the joke at his own expense, Ryan Reynolds' superior acting abilities.


Why do I keep banging on about Deadpool and Ryan Reynolds? If you have to ask, you're a damn fool. However, this particular blog post refers to the importance of romantic love. Once found, flipping hold onto it. If someone creates happiness in your soul, DO NOT fuck it up. Life without love is a big bag of shite. It's like being caught in a shit tide with no boat and no paddle. Basically it's wank. So as Wade Wilson indicates, retain love and the whole world feels like rainbows and daisies.


Xxx


PS. I love that I previously wrote soil instead of soul. Ha. Nearly missed that error. Although soil is the basis for life. Things grow in it. Maybe soul and soil are not so different.

PPS. This:

Nick Drake - Pink Moon

I just love this.

Freedom!

I have finally removed Zoosk - the dating site which served no purpose other than a waste of my precious time. I have received months of super helpful email and text alerts from this anti-dating site.  Every time I got a text, I thought, oooh text, I am pure excite, quickly followed by oh it's Zoosk, I feel dead inside.  I was unable to reply to any messages without payment.  I was basically unable to do anything other than sarcastically bask in the glory of attention from men with ridiculous profile names.  Men, I'm afraid to say that I wouldn't have dated if Zoosk had paid me.  I should point out that male attention of itself doesn't interest me.  I am not a seeker of affirmation.  I would like a super charged connection which will lead to a profound romantic relationship - a dating site should enable this but oddly it kinda doesn't. This applies to all of them really but Zoosk is a special case. 

Zoosk, in its infinite wisdom, does not allow users to delete their account via the mobile phone.  I realise that Zoosk is a business thus wants to keep people on their site but really - let the people remove via their phone. Not everyone has a PC or laptop.  I actually do have a laptop but it offers a casual internet connection.  It's like the lottery, the odds are against you getting anywhere but you try anyway.  For some strange reason dating sites are banned at work.  Why one cannot browse profiles whilst faffing about with spreadsheets is entirely beyond me.  I can multi-task.  Am female, have daughter, earn pennies - I'm the goddess of the multi-task.  Anyhoo, back to the point - my ability to remove Zoosk has been hampered by the factors outlined above.

Happily, on this day, after months of pointless text and email alerts, I have finally waved bye bye to Zoosk via my parent's PC.  Mum and dad to the rescue once again. 

I feel so free. 

xx xx

Jazz

Good evening and welcome to Jazz Club,

Tonight we have the eminent Jazz artist, Mr Paul Horn. His album 'Inside', was recorded from inside the Taj Mahal. He hid within after closing and remained there overnight to record these groovy vibes. Outlandish. It's just Paul playing with his horn, in a place of worship. Rude.  I think you'll agree, the sounds are out of this world. Cosmic. Over to you Paul…..

With thanks to The Tie Dyed Mystic for the intro. Niiiiice.

http://tiedyedmystic.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/inside.html?m=1

Love letter

I want a letter. The kind that Keats wrote to Fanny. A letter filled with passion and poetry. Messages are fantastic. Well, they can be, depending on the author but nothing beats a love letter. I've received them in past. The distant past. What can I say, I'm old! But I see no reason why a love letter shouldn't be a thing in modern times. Just because we can text and WhatsApp, doesn't mean we shouldn't write a real letter.

I've probably read Love Letters from Great Men and Women too many times. I'm certainly rather obsessed with The Lake House - the characters within conduct their whole relationship via letter for reasons that would spoil the plot if shared here. I care not. I want a love letter. Damn it, I want a string of love letters. Please arrange this for me fate.

Thanks,

Xxx

PS.  Im not overly hopeful. I've heard shit all from Ryan Reynolds. ;-)

Irrelevant messages

I have messages from Gently Loyal and Diver Daniel. As you can imagine, I'm thrilled. The anticipation is almost too much to bare. Insert masses of sarcasm.

Now I may be wrong but my best guess is that Diver Daniel hasn't chosen his profile name because he is an ardent deep sea diver. What the heck is gently loyal? A little bit loyal? A sort of vague nod towards loyal? Who uses the word loyal in a dating profile name anyway. Be dramatic. Be unusual. Be comedic. Be generic, if needs be but don't be sexual or soppy. These come later. When a reciprocal willingness to date has been established.

Yours,

Possibly single forever,

The RGF

Xxx

Good stuff

This song has been roaming around my head for days. Yet it's a long time since I've heard it. 

l bought the album Kaleidoscope a short time after its release. This song is one of my favourites from the album. I'm sure I've posted about it before. Not so much blog post déjà vu, as an actual memory. 

The song reminds me to see my worth. Rather than mediating my value through the eye's of other people. I appreciate all that I am, without the need of confirmation. It acknowledges a truth that we should all recognise  - the good stuff is right here *points to self*. 

;-)

PS. This is a remix. I cannot insert the original. Damn Blogger You Tube communication breakdown. 

Beautiful day

Today has been rather beautiful. Craft activities at church. Then festival fun. The highlight was this track whilst I enjoyed a Sangria. My daughter was relaxed throughout the whole song. A rare gift. 

Lyrically epic

This song has something of the genius about it. It isn't trying to be lyrically snobby. It isn't trying to be anything. Favourite lyrics include "Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift. That sticks around like summat's in your teeth" and "Been wondering if your heart's still open and

If so I wanna know what time it shuts

Simmer down and pucker up

I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly

On the cusp of trying to kiss you".  I love the sound too. Yep. Possibly adding this song to my list of perfect tracks. 

The full lyrics and track are below: 

Have you got color in your cheeks?

Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift

That sticks around like summat's in your teeth

Ah, there's some aces up your sleeve

Have you no idea that you're in deep

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

How many secrets can you keep?

'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow

When I play it on repeat

Until I fall asleep

Spilling drinks on my settee

If this feeling flows both ways

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying

Things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawlin' back to you

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

'Cause I always do

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new

Now I've thought it through

Crawling back to you

So have you got the guts?

Been wondering if your heart's still open and

If so I wanna know what time it shuts

Simmer down and pucker up

I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly

On the cusp of trying to kiss you

I don't know if you feel the same as I do

But we could be together, if you wanted to

If this feeling flows both ways

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying

Things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (calling when you've had a few)

'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new

Now I've thought it through

Crawling back to you, (do I wanna know?)

If this feeling flows both ways

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying

Things that you can't say tomorrow day

Too busy being yours to fall

(Sad to see you go)

Ever thought of calling darling?

(Do I wanna know)

Do you want me crawling back to you?

Fast fall

If falling in love is super fast for me then why is falling out of love so damn slow. I suppose it's the oomph factor. Falling fast doesn't lack power. It's not half-hearted, vague love. It's the real deal. All good unless the love is unrequited. Curses then. Shitbollockswank.

Xxx

Dreams of Cornwall

I wish I had a great aunt in Cornwall. The kind of aunt that has collections of tea sets, paints pictures of the sea, wears her hair in a bun and talks of her youth as if it was yesterday. Sadly, my grandparents have long since gone, so have my great aunts. I miss hearing about the past. That sense of connecting with history that can only be felt when someone recounts their experience of being there.

I always wanted to move to Cornwall. In fact I had intended to but it's not something I'd do now I have a child. Her relationship with her family is too important to stretch over many miles without good reason.

I'd like to travel South again soon though. I need to tramp barefoot through Cornish sands and watch the blue of it's sea. Somehow, Cornwall feels like coming home. There is no logical reason for this. I've never lived there nor holidayed for longer than a week but there is a sense of unexplainable belonging.  

It would seem that I need to buy a tent. Big enough to move around in, small enough to carry on the train. Either that or borrow someone's aunt every Summer. Obviously, I lack the sufficient level of pennies for hotel stays. This is ok because camping is great fun. Although I've never camped on my own with a four year old. It's probably still tremendously exciting, from a certain angle, if you squint a bit and apply heavy duty rose tinted spectacles. I care not. We are absolutely going to do it anyway.

Xxx

Hug yourself

So many people worry about the next moment thus forget to exist in the present one. It seems sensible, for the most part, to start living within the exact moment one is experiencing. Unless watching My Little Pony - then exist in every other moment available except the present one. My Little Pony is the televisual equivalent of watching paint dry, when the paint has an American accent.  Otherwise, as a general rule of thumb, existing in the present moment is absolutely gooooood.

The process of existing in the moment is often referred to as being mindful. It's being aware of the body, the mind, the soul exactly as it is right now. Each time thoughts drift elsewhere, one pulls oneself back to the present moment. It takes practice. In fact it takes a shitload of practice. Unfortunately, adult people don't connect with the now, as children do. We have socialised ourselves out of the innate habit. We have responsibilities, worries, fears, plans and so on. These take us away from mindfulness. So we have to make a mental point of returning to it.

It is worth the effort because the more we exist in each moment, the less we worry. Mindfulness creates a sense of inner peace. Unless watching My Little Pony, as previously, and probably unnecessarily indicated.  Moreover, it enables us to return to our higher selves thus connect with the collective unconscious.

The next time I feel like I need an all night hug, I shall remind myself to return to the source by being mindful. I may not be able to generate a hug from the right person but I can certainly return to a calm and positive self under my own steam.

From this point forward, mindfulness will be known as the self hug. That's not say that an actual hug, say from Ryan Reynolds, wouldn't be flipping lovely. Commence ‘Carry on laughing mode’ - we won't start with hugs either, nudge nudge, wink wink. But on a semi serious note, it's important to recognise that I have self hugs on tap and I don't need to shave my legs beforehand. I don't care if I resemble Cousin It. I love me. :-)

May the self hugs commence.

Sunshine and flowers,

The RGF

Resolve

Can you warn me off this night,

Because there’s something I can’t demonstrate with words.

It’s a place I’ve seen before,

It’s a place you learn in little steps

My bones they ache from holding for resolve.

Is it ever worth the wait?

Will it feel like I was never there?

As I cannot live with what I’d say to you.

If I save me, will you heal yourself,

As my bones grow old from needing a resolve.

If I’ve never shown remorse,

Please know that it was always kept,

And now my bones are cold from feeling a resolve.

Am I ever worth the wait?

Will it feel like I was never there?

As I cannot live with what I’d say to you.

If I save me, will you heal yourself,

As my bones grow old from needing a resolve.

Hug until morning

Sometimes parenting alone is incredibly hard. I know that some single parents say it's easier on your own. It isn't. People say this to cover up the struggle. We all want to appear strong.  And, for the most part, we are.  But there are days when strength is in short supply. This is how I feel today.

Somehow, I thought my epiphany would provide a roadmap to perpetual peace and wisdom. Apparently nits and exes didn't get the memo.

Today, I would like someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me it's ok. I'd like a really long hug. By long, I mean one that lasts until morning.

Xxx

Heart smiles

I'm reapplying the songs of my soul to new memories.  Yes, these memories might only be housework whilst dancing and singing but damn, I make the work beautiful. Even the mundane can become magical if you make it so.

Imagination, music and heart smiles.

Life matters. Make it count.

Xxx

Strength

There will always be moments when you think I can't do this. Everything is difficult. Even breathing seems like an effort. Sometimes these moments become days, weeks, months.

Every single moment is new. Each can be viewed with a fresh perspective. Every time life becomes too much, start afresh in the next moment. You can do this. You have strength that you haven't even drawn upon yet.

Be strong because you are.

Xxx

Wake up!

Wake up! Wake up!

Sometimes one starts off thinking small, then seemingly from nowhere, it becomes a wider concept. As if one is tapping into a universal truth - the very ethos of our existence. This, without wishing to sound too egotistical, is what's happening for me right now.  

It seems that the long awaited epiphany has arrived.  But it's different than expected. It's not about letting go because there is nothing to let go of. It's about realisation. Somehow, through a recent romantic connection and wisdom accrued through my almost 42 years on earth - I am finally aware.

Some weeks ago I was impressed by the number of times synchronicity occurred during a romance. There were numerous examples throughout but the content of these are not important.  What matters is that they occurred. Jung has said that synchronicity is meaningful coincidences between events, which have no apparent causal relationship. His positing of synchronicity as a theatrical concept offered evidence of the collective unconscious. That is the unconscious of the shared soul of humanity. I don't seek to offer an in depth explanation of Jung's theories because quite frankly, I doubt that I could. I'm merely using his theories to provide an introduction to the musings in this post.  

Returning to the romance, I recall that the gentleman and I spoke about the sheer number of synchronicities which appeared to occur during our short relationship. By way of explanation, he said “it's just the connection”. And, on reflection, he was absolutely right. The more connected we became, the more synchronicities occurred.

It seems to me, on this day of realisation, that deeper connections between people take place because they are more intune with the collective unconscious. These people are, to varying degrees, switched on rather than switched off. They are not part of the zombie nation but are instead: more open, more connected and more intune.  In our case: we were both, roughly speaking, switched on at same level. Thus, our respective frequencies resonated.  Of equal significance, was the numerous commonalities between us. We, unconsciously, utilised these commonalities to connect across the collective unconscious. And we were able to read each other's algorithms.

The deeper meaning behind all this is simple. Human beings are connected. Meaningful coincidences enable us to comprehend the magnitude of the collective unconscious. In other words synchronicity provides us with an example of the collective unconscious in action. Some of us are more in touch with the source because we are spiritually awake. This, combined with common ground, enables us to connect deeply with another person's frequency.

I recently wrote about the connection between The Matrix and 42.  I quoted Morpheus who said - “it is the question that drives us”. And I believe this to be so. It is the question of comprehending the source. The primordial knowledge, that we each knew but may have forgotten.  Once we remember, when we switch on and wake up - we truly connect.

Interestingly, it is perhaps no coincidence that I'm in my 42 year on earth. I haven't yet arrived at the anniversary of my birth but will do so in a few months.

For me, this blog post is the written record of a defining moment. I believe that I have arrived at an understanding of the nature of the human condition. Additionally, I finally realise why some connections resonate more than others. There is, of course, room to evolve my realisation and I'm certainly not suggesting that I have reached an undisputed higher state of consciousness. However, I do feel as though I'm making progress through this journey called life.

Yours

The RGF 

Xxx xxx

Good things

There is a sense that something good is going to happen.  Just small patches of metaphorical blue bursting through the clouds. I've absolutely no logic to base my theory on. It's a feeling.  Perhaps the edge of a feeling. An almost-but-not-quite feeling. Maybe I'm over-theorising. However one might choose to classify it - something good this way comes. Bring it the fuck on.  

Déjà vu

This is weird: I keep having the sense that I've posted about certain concepts before. I search my blog and find nothing, yet the blog post déjà vu keeps happening. Maybe it's because some of my thoughts have been hanging around for a while, pushing to get themselves on paper, as it were. Virtual paper anyway. It's rare that I write with pen on page. I'm fairly good with words but there is no beauty in my handwriting. Anyhoo, I digress. I'm like Ronnie Corbet in his chair at the end of The Two Ronnies. There were tangents on his tangents. I can relate to this - my tangents are so twisty turny that people often struggle to keep up. But that doesn't matter. I'm not writing for the masses here. I might be my only reader! Now I'm having déjà vu again. Something odd is afoot . To return to the beginning of this post - weird.

Midnight fairy

I think I want to be a fairy, specifically a midnight fairy. I can really see myself bouncing from flower to flower in the small hours. I used to dance around after midnight quite often. Generally speaking, midnight action has tended not to include fancy dress.  Though I have been a cyber witch, a snow queen and, just to mix things up, a member of The Village People.  My Renegade Glitter Fairy alter ego did make an appearance two Halloweens ago. I think it was two. Could have been one. Time is a wishy washy concept in my world. Stuff happens, time passes and sometimes I remember the stuff but I don't usually remember the time of the stuff.

I am, however, aware that time passes quickly, and ever more so the older one gets. Thus, Halloween fast approaches yet again. Perhaps The RGF (Renegade Glitter Fairy - this blogs title, in case you hadn't noticed) will make another appearance this year. I like fancy dress at Halloween, yet I'm in no hurry to reach the autumnal months. There is something magical about flowers swaying in the breeze, as a gentle sun looks down on the world. On the other hand, there is nothing magical about sweating your arse off - actually there are times when sweaty is fun but I'm not naughty enough to post about it.  

I think mermaid hair and new look RGF outfit is needed. In fact, I have been considering making some fairy wings since The Llangollen Faery Festival. It seems that a project is presenting itself. Perhaps I should finish my other creative projects first….. then again, why break the habit of a life time. Multiple projects, none of which are necessarily ever finished, are kinda my thing. I need more time or a reasonable understanding of it. A pause button would probably do the trick and a shed load of energy……or actual fairy magic.

Love and wishes,

The RGF

Xxx

Fibonacci

In times gone by, I squinted at a lot of late nights through distorted vision. Sasha often played magic into the latter part of these evenings. Sometimes I was there as he played live at a venue. But more often than not, we listened to Sasha, with open minds, at late night parties. In fact, when daylight descended, as the tunes still played - those late night parties were some of the best times of my life.

Once I understood the pattern in this track and discovered that it was the Fibonacci sequence, it became somehow more magical. Mathematics is not my strong suit but I'm fairly good with patterns. I'm also really excellent at hedonism.  Though opportunities are less frequent these days, the spark is still there. I'm like an every ready battery on low charge.  I just need stimulating. ;-)

Wandering thoughts

Where does your mind go when your thoughts wander aimlessly? What is the repeated happy destination of your mind? This is where you want to be. This is where your soul resides.