misplaced objects

misplaced objects
– your clothes lying on the bathroom floor
I have not seen you in an age.
I have not felt the warmth of your hand.

your crumpled clothes on the floor
the tv on in the far room
I’m missing the warmth of you
– my foot explores your body’s imprint in our mattress

the glow and hum of the tv
your footsteps passing down the hall
and I wonder how we might reconnect
misplaced objects

for my friend who is looking for love

Ok, I think this will work, maybe not overnight, maybe not until you have forgotten you did it, so don’t do it unless you really mean it (which of course will be fine). And yes, you can change the words of this, just be true to the intention. I will help you tweak them if you like. And if you feel overwhelmed or overchallenged at any point just pause and breathe for a bit, a few moments, or months, it does not matter. There is no rush. Continue reading “for my friend who is looking for love”

I love Dr Melissa West, yoga teacher

Melissa West is a yoga teacher. I have never met her, but she has hundreds of beautiful yoga videos available on youtube. For free. Her yoga is for real people with real bodies so people like me with a blown knee can do it. And people like me who aren’t skinny all over and smooth bodied and smooth faced can do it too. And if you are a person like me and you do Melissa’s yoga, you will soon know again that your lumps and bumps and squishynesses are perfect and beautiful and as deserving of a nice swimsuit as anyone else’s.

But really Melissa’s yoga is about real life too. Yoga for courage to apply for the job and attend the job interview. Or to ask for help, to acknowledge a mistake. Yoga for grieving – to say goodbye, to feel it, really feel it, and let it be for a bit, or even let it go. Yoga for going inwards and remaining strong when the world shouts that you are too old, too wrinkly, too fat, and not enough of this and this and that. And yoga for having a go, trying your hardest and collapsing in a heap, a giggling heap, laughing your head off as you realise that some big drama in your life is not such a big bloody deal after all. That was my favourite yoga moment.

Or maybe my favourite yoga moment was when I did a twist and grasped my wonky knee and encouraged by Melissa’s philosophy was gentle with it and placed it just so and felt a real rush of love and admiration for my bony old knee and all we have been through together and gave it a little pat – there there old girl. That was nice too.

But maybe the best bit is that it is those moments that keep me coming back – not weight loss, age reversal or the general yogarobics crap. Just me, loving me and loving the body I’m in.

Thank you Melissa West

ritual

He always parks his car in the same spot
his work socks are monogamous and divided into left and right
there is a ‘his’ spot on the lounge.
It drives me nuts to be told how to make my own damn coffee
or the best way to get to the local shops
But I don’t miss frantically looking for my keys, wallet, and phone 🙂

the ritual insult at my house 6:30pm while waiting for dinner

For one of my day jobs I have been doing a little research on the ritual insult – and now I am hearing them everywhere. An example from tonight’s dinner table…

daughter 1: So at school last week we talked about the appendix and I put up my hand and said I don’t have one and then at school this week we talked about wisdom teeth and I put up my hand and said I don’t have any.

daughter 2: So I guess at school next week you’ll be talking about brains.

Its a ritual insult because you can only trade them if you are in the ‘in group.’ If someone else said this to d1, d2 would laugh – and then kick them in the shin.

Sometimes its a bit scary as a parent hearing this stuff. I go straight to thinking about depression and young people committing suicide and bullying and other dark stuff and then I wake up to them shouting in unison at each other shut up you’re ugly and I hate you! and laughing themselves silly. So I generally get up from the table, remove the silverware (just in case that eye does get lost*) and leave them to it.

*It really is all fun and games until someone loses an eye

first family holiday with adult children

Today we – my daughters and one boyfriend and Dave-who-is-bankrolling-this-whole-gig are going on a wee holiday to the Gold Coast. The first-to-move-out is popping by and swapping her luggage for her sisters so the young ones are travelling down together. Dave and I are officially the olds. We get to bring the stuff.

We are going to do some holiday things – go to a haunted house, have fish and chips for tea on the beach (the best bit) and walk around the Burleigh Headland too (the other best bit). And in the evening we will retire to separate apartments. For the first time we booked one for them – and one for us. And in the morning, Dave and I (or maybe just I) will sneak out and go for a walk on the beach (ok – this will be the best bit too) and not worry about the girls missing out or anything. And the girls (who are really women now) will probably sleep in peacefully after a night of watching bad movies and giggling at the sorts of special effects that make me sick. These are happy thoughts to be thinking.

When Dave-the-bankroller first booked this holiday I felt a little sad. Mainly because we never felt we had enough money – or time – to take many holidays as a family when our young women were kids. Now I am looking forward and know that having been through some rough patches, we can all cope with all kinds of crap and be happy. And I feel content and quite satisfied. I actually for the first time feel all grown up. These are happy feelings to be feeling.

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