The biggest aid to creation is changing how we label things.
This is not a summer dress, it’s a nightie
This is not a teapot with no lid.It’s mini watering can
This is not a dressing gown it’s a coat
This is not a shoe horn it’s a pot stirrer
You get the idea.A table is a table is not a table.It’s a boat sailing over the sea
This is not Xmas it is the lead up to New Year
This is not a Christmas tree.It’s an indoor bird sanctuary waiting for guests
This is not me, it’s my shadow
And when this flower dies
It leaves us its seeds
It gives all it has to the day when it lives
It takes in our love and indulgently breeds
I was looking at a book and it led me to another.But I had uneasy thoughts as in
The author says,do you have time to do nice things for yourself like meditaion?
I say, meditation is not like having a hot bath.It developed in different religions and in the last 3o years people have separated the meditation which was perhaps meant to bring us nearer to God or meaning and value is now seen as a relaxing treat for ourselves
Seems a bit self obsessed to me.
Give yourself this…
Give yourself the other…
Yes, we should but we are here in the world with others both human and non human.Animals,plants, the ocean, the planets, music,love and friendship
I suppose when I grew up it was too much the other way.
But self absorbtion is no good
Ironically when we do creative work it makes us forget ourselves and lose ourself in our work which is also a form of play..I believe if we keep thinking about ourself it is a sign we are in trouble and need help.Although therapy to makes is forget ourself i seems paradoxical.I have found it’s very painful to be worried over some aspect of our life or be ill and suffering which again makes us less in contact with the world
I think poetry or learning something new can act as a painkiller if you suffer chronic pain including mental pain.. music and art take us ” out of our self”
Shyness is a form of self absorbtion.And we long to forget ourself and join in with others yet sometimes we can’t.If we don’t care who is the cleverest or best at some activityt hen maybe we will be happier.Standards matter but perfectionism is bad.We all have flaws.What we do will too
Do not sit still for more than one hour.Walk into the kitchen or hall.Walk round, even sweep the floor for 5 minutes
Have a good coat
Newspaper is not warm enough to sleep on.Donate to Shelter of another charity.Many homeless people are mentally ill.They don’t like what is happening to them
Mary had had coffee with Annie ;now she was eying a snake print pencil skirt in her local department store.Am I a temptress wearing snake skin as it reminds men of Eden and Adam’s sin? Curious how sex was a sin being as that’s how God had made them like that.He must be very naughty himself,she thought
We could have had some other form of reproduction,she told herself.But as we are lazy it would have to be fun.
Come here,Annie, she called.What do you think of this skirt?
No.Mary,it won’t look right on you.You still have an unnatural innocence and simplicity.I think seersucker or gingham dresses in pure cotton are your type of thing.You must be yourself so that a man will not mistake you for a woman of a certain type.
I don’t think they have any gingham,Mary replied calmly.If only I had not been so afraid of that sewing machine,I could make my own.And if a man did that it would be intriguing.
Oh,you would not have hsd the time with your job and the house and Stan, Annie advised her.How about some nice linen shorts?
Shorts! Are you crackers?My knees and thighs are private.
Well.Annie said,I am afraid you skirt is transparent like Princess
Diana’s.
Thank God I have 2 pairs of knickers on,Mary chuckled.
I’ve always been bad at checking my clothes.Last week I went to see Vi and my shoes were on the wrong feet.Another time my soles began to disintegrate… a bit like the EU.Stan liked me to wear lovely clothes like blue tights.
Just blue tights?Annie said suspiciously.
Don’t be so pedantic,Mary grinned.I wore a blue dress too and a red cardigan .It’s not for you to ask what I wore in bed.Maybe I wore Laura Ashley mabe I wore a woollen vest
Don’t read Ted Hughes letters.And Sylvia Plath’s journals are even worse.You need some humour and fun.Well do read them but not all day
You can say that again,said Mary.I don’t want Ted Hughes and he’s dead anyway
When does that stop a determined woman?
We shall never know
I guess mi Mam is happy , not so blue
I’m wearing tweed and turquoise in soft hues
Skirts are out of date, but I like clothes
Terracotta, wine, autumnal shows
Mi Mam didn’t like mi faded denim jeans
Nor mi hair that floated like a stream
Now I’m old I’m wearing her sweet dreams
My hair is short and curly; how it gleams
She wanted me to look like richer folk
But I rebelled and wore a duffel coat
I wore a skirt so short mi Mammy choked
My legs were thinner than an angel’s throat
My face was long and pointed, with big eyes
I gave such languid looks the men near cried
I always told the truth.I cannot lie
A martyr and a saint.I lived to die
How do you keep so thin ,the students asked
Do not eat and ride your bike too fast
Grieve for folk who died by their own hand
Mi Mammy would not, could not understand
The doctors never knew I could not eat
I lived on hard boiled eggs and Heinz baked beans
My face was shy but still I looked quite sweet
Explaining mathematics to the geeks
Mi Mam is dead and I wear stuff she wore
A real wool skirt and jumper, I’m reborn
I wear red tights and shoes without a horn
A warm soft coat, a hat with its own phone
We are not each one person but a gang
As life goes on we wander hand in hand
Me and I and she who likes to sing~
All wearing brilliant colours on white sands
How my heart sings 