Disappoinments

Yesterday I listened to a lecture about disappointments. The thing that most stuck with me is that disappointments help you to map the borders of who you are, of what is important to you, what you hope/wish/want.

So embedeed in the incredible losses are these gems of finding out what truly matters.

It is like finding treasures in darkness... coming out from the black pit with jewels filling your hands...

My jewels are many, and they are ablaze with coloured light; the warm deep red glow of friendship, the bright yellow of surprises, the cool blue of silent compassion, the bright green of renewed hope, the soft gray of shared tears, the transparent turquoise speaking of change; all of these set in gold forged in the fires of disappointment, grief and trials.

Some things come with a high price, and some victories are won at great cost, and there will be lasting scars, and maybe I will limp, but like an old Anglo-Saxon poems states, there are things one needs to hold on regardless of one's strength

"Mind must be firmer, heart the more fierce, courage the greater, as our strength diminishes."
"Hige° sceal þe heardra, heorte þe cenre, mod sceal þe mare, þe ure mægen° lytlað.

Contrary to the heroes slain at the battle of Maldon, I think I'm getting stronger now and am nearer to the dawn, but still, I will search till I find the jewels this present darkness hides and consider myself rich :)

An antidote to Murphy's law

I love the confidence of this poem. I found it pinned atop my desk, and it is such a timely thing!

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.

by Sheenagh Pugh

New Beginnings

It is strange of how small things new beginnings really consist of.

This morning I bought myself a new mug to celebrate the fact that I now have a new place to drink my tea/coffee while I sit and write, and as I sat down for the first time in front of my new desk, I found a welcome note written by the previous occupant of this space... and I was given new keys...

in themselves such small things, but yet they mark the very real new beginning!

I wonder why I like newness so much. I'e always liked things that grow, or are in their early stages (babies, trees, plants, cross stich designs, spices), maybe it is because I like the possibilities embedded in them, the "not-yetness" embedded in something that has just begun.

I think I buy spices for much the same reason: who knows what wonderful meals these spices will contribute to... and I love listening to small children: who knows what the world is like through their eyes... and I love watch plants grow, and relationships unfold...

So, here's to new beginnings!