Saved By The Bell

Sometimes the universe throws you a life buoy, a kick up the pants, a what were you thinking kind of reminder that this is the real deal and you only get one go at it.

A few weeks ago I applied for a very sensible, potentially-soul-destroying job which would have ticked all the boxes financially and none when it comes to wish fulfilment. Fortunately I didn't get it.

What I did get very loud and clear was the huge feeling of relief which swept over me when I heard that out of the very high, calibre applicants, I was one of the unsuccessful ones.

Later in a warm bath with a glass of red and my dearly beloved, I confessed that if I had got the job I would have had to switch off a part of myself, a still shy part which I have spent a large proportion of my adult life coaxing out of hiding.

Less than a week after this enlightened confession something wonderful happened. An old and well connected tutor from Uni contacted me about some possible research work, qualitative research, no less. Now this I love, people and analysis and what makes you tick kind of questions. My heart soared.

Nothing may come of this, work-wise, but I have had such a revelation. It is not enough to feed ones pocket, to sell your soul for money, as a friend put it, if it is not also feeding the essence of what it means to be yourself. If a person stays true to self, then life does seem to have a wonderful way of conspiring to meet the needs of 'self-essence' and survival.

Hunted

Last night I couldn't sleep.
Blamed it on the iPod  internet chocolate cake neighbours.
Too much stimulation and not enough connection.
I often misinterpret my intuition, until after that is.
Today I knew I was sensing danger.
Muddied by modern distractions it was only in the quietness of my bed in the absence of my sleep that it nibbled at my consciousness.
'Be alert', it was saying. 'Where are your babies?', it was saying.
How many times I wonder, have people mistaken their agitation and paid the price.
Lucky this time, that's what I tell myself. I'll be more attentive next time, that's what I tell myself.
'Beware', says my intuition. 'Be aware'.

In love with the possibilites...

Evening now, soft, still.  Instead of staying indoors and attending to chores, I drive to where we are soon to build the long awaited family home.

Already planted, the orchard stands frail. Thin  trees which promise succulence. Patience, be patient! Vegetables are flourishing in raised, oblong, tin beds, drawing me like a magnet.
I tend them. Lovingly, kindly, delightedly. Reddest strawberries, crunchy peas, beans, lemon balm and parsley. How now the progress of the green caterpillars gnawing at the pods on the radish plants? There will be seeds to collect if the caterpillars don't destroy them all.

The caterpillars have been allowed to gnaw unimpeded. I am informed by a romantic vision of  re-instating the kind of balance that exists in nature between 'helpful' and 'unhelpful' insects. I indulge my delusion and ignore the fact that recently planted trees are mostly less than a metre high and offer no protection for birds, floral tit-bits to entice the bees are mere seedlings, and the grass is old, compacted cow pasture. I am buoyed by my vision of what it might yet become.

A kindly and focused man mirrored my own enthusiasm, 'You'd be amazed what you can do on five acres'.

Indeed.

Beyond the radish pods, the other vegetables are gorgeous and unchewed.

There is so much possibility, the wonder of it expands my chest, I feel my breath, my skin, my consciousness, opening to the billions of micro-organisms insects worms that help make up the living breathing masterpiece that is the soil. I am learning how to feed it, to mend it, to read it.
I am alive, it is alive.
I am in love with the possibilities.