Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Palm Weevil
This gorgeous creature is a good couple of inches long. We discovered it as it was clinging onto my fiancé’s foot on the beach of Port Cristo! I rescued it (and him) and sat it in the shade until it recovered enough to move on.
Sadly, these beautiful insects are seen as pests as their grubs destroy palm trees from the inside out. I love palm trees too, so I understand why the weevils are not popular, but I can’t help feeling the weevil has a right to life too…
This one lived to chew another day, anyway.
Flowers!
As this was growing, prior to flowering, it looked exactly like a gladioli. Not so much now it has flowered! I love having mystery plants move into my garden. We had some cyclamen pop up from nowhere last year. Magical!
Devoted Mother
Arachnophobes, look away now!
A cellar spider (pholcidae) in our bathroom, clutching her egg sac. She’s been there for days, determinedly carrying the unborn babies everywhere she goes, and even fighting off a rival (they sometimes eat each other!). I’m moving her soon, as we don’t want the babies spreading out over the bathroom and drowning or being crushed by little feet.
Saturday Blues
There’s are days when getting up and dressed seem a major achievement. I found clothes! I put them on and don’t look utterly stupid!
But then I feel stupid for congratulating myself over such a tiny thing. How can I be proud of myself, an adult, a parent, over getting myself up and dressed?
I have to fight this feeling, because depression wants me. Its black tentacles are oozing sinuously closer, to grasp at my heart. I can’t promise I won’t let it; I’ve never been strong enough to fight it all the way off; no, strong is not the right word. I’m certainly not weak; competent? Capable? Knowledgeable? I don’t really know. I know it’s no failing of me or my brain or body that depression lurks constantly, a serpentine cephalopod of silence. It makes me silent; I don’t want to speak, or even sing some days.
When I stop singing, I know it’s bad. Some days tears roll down my face when I’m singing. I can cope with that. If the emotion is still there, I can cope. It’s when it drains away; that’s when I start to crumble.
So today I got dressed. Must remember it’s ok to clap myself on the back. Now I have to go get a parcel; see friends; cook and eat. Must remember to eat, and eat well. Slap away the tiny tentacles that sneakily steal these instructions from my mind: eat, sleep, wash, smile. Cope.
June 9th, Britain
Sitting in bed
Waiting for the world to end
Or maybe to start.
My heart
A battlefield of friends
And enemies
Love and passion
Embers fizzling in the rain
The aftermath.
Scared to read, scared not to read
Fearmongers long for both
But my eyes eat it all
All the bitter, nasty bile
Vile accusations and
Trial after execution
Just like the last six weeks.
So many lies,
I can only hope
This is more of the same.
Lying in bed,
Waiting for the world to end
Bending not to my will,
My vote, my hope,
Or that of
58% of the others.
Spring Treasure
I’m languishing in bed feeling sorry for myself at the moment, however at the start of the Easter break I did manage to get out and about a bit. Nathan and I had a lovely walk to our local town, via the woods that have overtaken the old railway cutting. Here’s some of the treasures we found.
Zebra spider on ivy berries.
A daisy with something in its eye.
Ladybird on bramble.
Forget-me-nots.
A new friend.
Time to be kind to oneself…
Resharing as I had forgotten about this meditation! It’s always good advice to be kind to yourself.
Favourite thought of the day:
Meditation is a time to be friends with one’s own heart.
This from a guided meditation by Ajahn Sundara, who also says it is a time to be kind to oneself; not to fight with thoughts and ideas. Just to let things be, and enjoy the feeling of existing in the world around you.
Ajahn’s meditation can be found here, and is very relaxing.
Talking with the Morning
Monday Morning Moods
I read an article in the e-zine I write for (Pagan Pages), about speaking with our morning spirits. I liked the article because it encourages you to address your own moods in a morning, and points out that it doesn’t matter whether you believe you’re talking to spirits, the divine or simply yourself; having that dialogue and understanding what’s going on with yourself can really help.
This morning I was going to leap out of bed and re launch myself as a new woman. As it is, I was three hours late getting up and in that time read a book, for pleasure, and did little that could be classified as work of any kind.
So what’s my morning dialogue? If I stop and ask myself what’s going on, what will I, or my morning spirits, answer?
This morning, they tell me, you’re achy. You’re sore. You did too much this weekend, and you had to take strong painkillers last night, and you’re now nursing the pharmaceutical equivalent of a hangover.
An accurate summation. I have fairly severe hypermobility, which can cause me some pretty intense joint pain. This often flares up even after very little exertion; something very frustrating for an ex athlete.
Yesterday I took my little boy to a party, and while he was going crazy I sat sedately and sipped a cold drink. However, the chairs were cold and metal, shaped for a posture that could not be achieved even by the most flexible and resilient of humans. As a result, by the time I arrived home my neck had stiffened, sending my shoulder into spasm. Hence painkillers and a good book.
OK voices, I know this. I know I’m in pain, but I could still get up and go outside, or do some writing, surely?
You’re depressed, they say. You feel like you should be doing more than you are, and that you are lazy. This depresses you, which prevents you doing anything, which in turn makes you feel lazier. You’re in a downwards spiral, and you need to snap a spike somewhere to stop the machinations.
This is spot on. Despite knowing I am unwell and deserving of rest, I don’t feel deserving of rest. I feel like I should work harder and harder, somehow fight the pain and fatigue. I feel like I should be ‘winning’, when in reality, a day where I keep the family alive and happy should count as a win.
Just do something, they say. It doesn’t matter if it’s not on one of the hundreds of lists you make for yourself. It doesn’t matter if you told yourself you ‘need’ to do 500 other things, when you were mad at yourself at 3am. Do something that will make you, or someone else, smile.
I’ll try, voices. I really will.
Mabh Savage 