Gypsy Dance, Gypsy Sing

Yes, 'All that matters here is song and dance'. 
I hum, ok sing, to myself all day, all week. A bit too loud. 
I want to spin.
Sway.
Skip from one side of the room to the other. 
And back again.
Endlessly.
Songs swirl through my head like colours. 
I feel elated and tingle with emotion. 


However, at the moment that emotion is dull panic over packing suitcase and a desire for Rice Krispies.


But I will take another route - upload the mp3 with music and Lord of the Rings. And get a bowl of Rice Krispies.


And tomorrow? Gypsy dance, gypsy sing (if I am lucky) but definitely pack my suitcase.


And take the book . . .

Serendipity - more than a movie

When I have sought to read, I have found sleep. Now I have started reading again. Morgaine's journey has moved so fast from a child to initiation into the mysteries of the Goddess. Fate is fickle. It can be changed and changed again, depending on the choices that we make, so can we still blame fate?


Had Morgaine not been willingly persuaded otherwise, she would not been filled with guilt at the outcome. Rather she should have been schooled enough to accept her choices and move along her path, making more choices as life dictates to suit her wishes. There may be other fates, parallel universes, but who can say if it would be different at any stage. Like her, I cannot escape guilt but do feel remorse for my regrets.


The wonderful Serendipity stars the talented John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale as star-crossed lovers, thwarted by fate. In the end, love conquers all, with the help of snow and NYC, but it also leaves two broken hearts in its wake, who have loved the lovers when their 'soulmate' was not on the scene. 


Cynical? Perhaps. We make the choices that predict our now and our future. There will be scope for many soulmates along the way, the alternative is that one wrong choice would forever deny you your soulmate. No, I do not believe that. My life has been blessed with love and warm feelings of love remain for soulmates who have moved from my life.


Morgaine chose not to break her vow with Lancelot. Lancelot met Guinevere before she met Arthur. Morgaine and Arthur . . . No, soulmates are with us on our journey through life, as are the inevitable broken hearts.

Whatever's written in your heart

Gerry Rafferty R.I.P

Singer, songwriter, musician
For all the wonderful moments and memories his music has given me.
Get It Right Next Time to lift me, City to City when I miss home and family, Whatever's Written In Your Heart, dancing to Baker Street in London, the inspired use of Stuck In The Middle With You in Reservoir Dogs, the delight in getting and listening to Life Goes On on Christmas morning 2009.


The list goes on . . . Life goes on

Hogmanay

Hogmanay in Scotland is an important time. It is a time to take stock and prepare for the coming year. I do not clean my house to make it spotless, as my mother and grandmother did. Perhaps I should have. Maybe I don't do the traditional things to bring me luck (see also 'first foot' below).

Hogmanay ends the year with celebrations, traditionally family but now including public celebrations where all, including multi-nationals are welcome, to 'bring in the new year' 'at the bells' at midnight. I think I only missed the bells once at home before my marriage and should have been there with family. I learnt from that to celebrate on Hogmanay Eve and go home for the bells.

Now I stay at home and 'first foot' my own house when my husband is awake, which isn't meant to bring you luck, it is visitors that do that, but I do leave the house before midnight to first foot and stand shivering on the doorstep before the bells ring out. I now sleep for a couple of hours before the bells at midnight. He tries to stay awake for the bells but it is getting more common that he is in bed asleep instead. I don't mind this. I will see him on Ne'erday morning to wish him Happy New Year. After all, he completed the database update tonight - more than an album a day for the year. Now if that had been apples?

I actually got through on the phone at the bells to wish my mother 'Happy New Year', just before the phone networks went into overload. The text messages have all now been successfully sent. Facebook has been good for this but it must be repetitive for all the messages to be 'Happy New Year. Almost time for bed. I brought in the bells with a little red wine and lots of John Martyn on the stereo. I could go on all night but I should get some more sleep - start the new year as I intend to go on with it you could say.

No, the book lay beside me untouched as I slept on Hogmanay evening, again ...

The Passing of Midwinter

The theme of Midwinter has been the bitter cold. On a good note, a sense of community and camaraderie has returned, with strangers cheerily greeting others in the street with 'it's a bit warmer today' when the daytime temperatures soared from a baltic -11  degrees celsius to a positively balmy -6. They say it was even above freezing today - not that I have been outside my door to confirm or deny it. What a Christmas blessing indeed! But there is a heavy snow warning for tomorrow . . .


Midwinter and the full moon brought bustling industry - shopping with various degrees of success, concerts - Arcade Fire and Belle and Sebastian, various lunches with family, friends and colleagues and mad house tidying.


It has been a generous spirited season, which I hope will continue well into the New Year and beyond.


My beautiful Christmas wreath, a gift from my beloved mother, hangs proudly on my front door, adorned with  glistening red apples amidst the green foliage, telling me it is time to join Morgaine in her journey to the Isle of Avalon and the path of the Goddess.


The isle of apples awaits . . .

The Glastonbury Holy Thorn

It is not midwinter yet the landscape has been covered in snow for almost two weeks now - with no end in sight.

I had no intention of writing until midwinter - out of respect to Igraine - so I could then turn my attention more fully to Morgaine.

However, in response to reports of a wilful act of destruction, I felt compelled to do.

The Holy Thorn Tree of Glastonbury on Wearyall Hill has been cut down in the middle of the night, branches strewn beside the remaining stump.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2010/dec/09/glastonbury-mourns-felling-thorn-tree

According to legend and echoed in the Mists of Avalon, Jesus' uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, was welcomed to Glastonbury by the Druids and Christian priests alike. He then took Jesus' staff and planted it on Wearyall Hill, where it took root and sprouted, blossoming at Christmas and Easter.

Last Night the Snow Fell

The snow was  'somewhere else' when I left the house last night. It fell lightly on my way home but by 1am the garden looked ethereal, lit by the white shroud covering the sky. Snow lay heaped on every branch of the denuded tree and on every square of the trellis fence. I wondered what the effect would have been had I weaved the solar lights through the trellis squares or draping the curtain of lights across it before the snow fell. I hadn't yet convinced myself to buy the coloured acrylic squares to attach to parts of the trellis, to give it a Mondrian styling with the lights. I would have liked to see the colours being cast across the snow on the ground last night.


As always, my mind races with ideas but my physical being cannot commit to the resources for such flights of fancy. As it is so with the book. I had read more but reached a stumbling point, which I have now accepted is the natural break point of Midwinter for Igraine.


Previously I disregarded Igraine as a minor character but I find this is not the case. Mid-winter is her time. Her time to be released from her shackles of marriage, albeit by death speeded by her own hand. Yes, she plays her part in shaping her fate - even if it does coincide with what is planned by the powers that be. She is no helpless pawn in their great game. And having made her choice, she ultimately sacrifices herself to her love for Uther, casting aside both her children to the loneliness of their own fates. 


And unknowingly, each child then enters the great game.


Igraine departs, her task completed. No, I do not think she would live out her life as a devout Christian, forsaking her knowledge of her previous lives as a priestess from beyond the seas. In this life, she has done what was required - to the extent of having blood on her hands, knowing there would be retribution. With that knowledge unearthed, she would always be a priestess at her very being.


Midwinter - the darkest night but there follows the time to prepare for new beginnings as it is the turning of the seasons and the long road back to spring is ahead.