The gift of the present

ADVENTURERS WARNING:
Sometimes, being your true radiant self, living in the moment, glad for all you already have and who you already are, Bliss, isn't always easy.
Nope, such conditions create the precise moment in one's life when the floodgates of physical abundance swing open the farthest, giving rise to that persistent, nagging "issue of the ages": where to put it all.
Really -  
    The Universe

I cannot write right at this moment on this posit. However, I will savout the moment as recently I have been able to apply this easily. An it therefore has influenced my decisions. I do have fears about financial security and with that comes an immediate anxiety of what I can't have and won't be able to afford. An instant move away from the above sentiment.
Must get on - will be back

Bliss
XX

Multiple choice life

It's as if before you there are countless doorways, all leading to new and different hallways. So you wonder and think, calculate and stress, over whether or not you'll knock on the "right" one.
But what you can't yet see, Bliss, is that all of the hallways beyond all of the doorways eventually lead to the same great room, in the same great house, with the same great party.
So, may as well pick the one you want? Huh?  
    The Universe

I whole-heartedly concur. I don't think there are any wrong paths there are simply paths. Follow anyone and I am me, consistently me. And I develop some more me as I follow my choices. Perhaps my choice are even an indication of me. Individuality. N=Everything is intertwined. Me has been contributed to from the moment of conception an influences in early days contributed to me and choices. Choices were presented that were nothing to do with me, they were there regardless of me.
Pick a path and develop on the journey. The journey involves emotions, new information, people and varying interactions, different terrain to negotiate and navigate. None of it is wrong. It simply is. Embrace it.
There we are my thoughts
Bliss
XX

Book of Job

Where were you when I lai the earth's foundations?
Tell me since you are so well informed! ...

When all the stars of the morning were singing with joy
and the sons of God in chorus were chanting praise?

Job 38:4 and 7

Grace -
Tthe way of nature and the way of grace. Choose which one to follow.
Grace doesn't try to please itself. Grace accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked.
It accepts insults and injuries.
Nature only wants to please itself. And others to please it too.
It likes to Lord it a little
To have it's own way
It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining all around it
 and love is smiling at all things
He taught us that no one who loves the way of grace
never comes to a bad end
I will be true to you
Whatever comes .....
(The words spoken at the beginning of the film Tree of Life.)

Something else I picked up - Is boredom anything less than the sense of one's faculties slowly dying?
Lots to debate but I need to focus - getting somewhere but not fast. At least I am getting somewhere

Bliss
XX

Order of service - oddity

My appeal for extension is being considered. Hopefully favourably.

It is horrid though as they required proof. Fortunately I brought the order of service home which apparently is sufficient

It was horrible scanning it and sending it. I can't quit sobbing now.

I suppose it had to come out. I am not even sure what I am sobbing about. It seems impossible Lisa is dead.

Loss is so strange. I don't think I believe in life after death in the way that I have supposed from what I have heard in the past.

Oddly I didn't sense my mum and Lisa on the bench this morning - I tried to see them there but just couldn't I turned as I walked away and waved.

I am not sure that this is my previous understanding of life after death and signs and messages from a sort of returning being. It's something much more that I cannot explain at all. Or I don;t know how to explain.

I hope I get the extension as I am really really struggling to stay focused. Plus I was awake asleep awake asleep throughout the night.

Even ending up emailing my auntie at 3:05 knowing that she is awake usually fro 2am until about 5am. No reply which was a relief as I am hoping that means she slept all the way through for the first time in ages.

Sorry to keep sharing all this. Normally I internalise all this because I think it shows that I am weak and pathetic. Death is death and get on with it - it happens. My dad would be as cold as anything - not a tear or even a change in his expression  which told me masses really. He told me that he was desensitised to death - never getting close to people truly after the first few deaths and killings when he was such a young man in the army - sent to horror zones such as Yemen and Korea and Borneo etc. Horrid battles. I see that in him - death is death, he's right but it evokes loss in me which I need to allow to heal in the way humans seem to need to do it - crying and hurting and crying and trying to make sense of it and crying and ...... whatever it takes. I have more acceptance more of the time regarding my mum and it is fortunate that I was in recovery to learn this.

I am glad I am mortal and there is an end to all of this - it will happen and I am not afraid. The Priests sermon was about death coming to us all.

He told a story of a farmer in Africa (the Priest was African with a very STRONG African accent). The farmer was walking through the planes one day and was being followed by a lion. He carried on walking and the lion walked behind him keeping pace. The farmer sensed him there. He tried running but still the lion kept pace and when the farmer glanced to see him, the lion was getting closer. He tried standing still and soon the lion was upon him. He likened the farmers walk to death. We cannot escape death. We are born and then we are like the farmer walking walking, running walking and eventually we have to stand still and then it catches up with us. He did make note that it seems worse when it's one so young. Thankfully he didn't say God wanted this one early or anything. Nonsense in my mind. It is what it is.

I hope you don't mind me writing all of this. It's simply musings to get the sobs to stop. They are subsiding now. The request for the Order of service I think was a strange help for me. I hope I can re-focus now on mesolimbic dopaminergic pathways involved in stress triggering addictive behaviours and schizophrenia. Ha! And then we die.

I hope this doesn't seem to morbid and understand if you decide not to read it.

Bliss

xx

R.I.P

My mind is amuck with the events of today. Family interaction, death and infinite farewells, Our is not to reason why? But why? I recognise how different I feel from all of "them". The way in which I could just stand there all alone feeling separate and spare. J cackling her laughter and northern utterances of "eeeeee" in remark of this or that. Mark's internal tremble of loss. People not talking with people because of "what about me?". No tears, endless tears. Stoic little girls, lost little girls, left alone little girls. Mrs niceness, broken-heartedness, incredulous sobs, aged resignation, oddity, chatterings, sandwich munchings, feeble mutterings, drinking, smoking, choking. There's nothing I can say. Grant us wisdom. What is this? Anyone? I am battle weary. Relating and remarking and smiling and crying.
I nearly fell asleep on the way home. I actually would not mind if the last breath was taken but I would not want to take the last breath of another.
Shakespeare's Titus is tragedy upon tragedy and violence and meanness. All of which exists in this world in the name of that's how it is. It is how it is. Here and gone again. There surely is nothing beyond. This is it!
People will have their souls black in the words of Shakespeare. Some will turn to the white light. I do not know. I know nothing. Nothing makes sense. Sense means what?
I am tired. Truly tired. It does seem pointless. I feel too tired to go on, truly. But that is not my choice apparently.
Titus: When will this fearful slumber end?

I send love, love, love.

Bliss
XX

Father deep inside

Father, father - always you wrestle inside of me

The irony is that I see how much I am like you in so many ways. I recognise how I found ways to be close to you by cncurring with. I adored that feeling of being accepted by you even though I disagreed. Eventually I agreed because it became the way. I learnt well. But I kept breaking through. Me. ANd that displeased you. All I wanted was to be loved by you but for being me. Being me seemed to breed distaste from you to me.

The only way to be happy is to love
Unless you love
your life will flash by
Wonder
Hope
Follow me

Bliss
XX

Neverending story

How nature loves the incomplete. She knows . If she drew a conclusion if would finish her.
Christopher Fry

Christopher Fry was an English Playwright and apparently his best known play is The Lady's Not for Burning. A story set in the middle ages. A war weary soldier who wants to die and a witch set to burn who wants to live. I am not sure where this line above about nature comes from. I was amused by the fact that Margaret Thatcher made her famous speech in which she said "the lady's not for turning". She did not know that her playwright had paraphrased the plays title. Oh the play was written after WWII.
Ah I have found it. It's in Venus Observed."In Venus Observed, the playboy Duke of Altair invites three of his former mistresses to his home on the pretext of choosing one to marry. Throw in a grown son trying to escape his father’s shadow, a soon-to-be-caught crooked assistant and his two anxious offspring, and a sudden outbreak of fire, and you end up with two and a half hours of rather wry musings on the meaning of life." Shari Perkins freelance Dramaturg. http://dramaticimpulse.wordpress.com/

I read it with joy. It is how I am feeling right now. I am enjoying the peace of just being. I am sad about the circumstances of my cousin dying. It is sad saying goodbye especially for those closest to her. I was watching the sunrise this morning and contemplating on how she has died and the world carries on turning. Nature does not end, it changes but not ends.
J was talking last evening about his thoughts on FB. He seems to have a negative opinion of it and how it is altering the way people communicate. There is I probably agree a change taking effect. Communication is less in person with the advent of emails, FB and texts. I certainly use technology using written words more. I used to love receiving letters and indeed writing letters. Which actually is not so dissimilar is it? The speed of delivery of course is very different. My view is yes it's changing and everything has been changing and growing for ever. Things that don't work can take a hold but I think gradually wear out or maybe we simply adapt and alter. Who knows? It is what it is. I have preferences but that doesn't mean I am right and they or wrong or indeed I am wrong and they are right. There is enough space for diversity. The problem is that diversity also brings prejudices.
Bias, bigotry, discrimination.
This leads to segregation and defensiveness and warfare. I feel saddened by this. I accept that it is all a part of it but it is my preference not to witness devastation and meanness. I would hope for people to embrace similarities and differences and keep an open mind. Choose yes to walk aside and mix with other like-minded's. Do not make others with different opinions suffer. It is just differences nothing more.
Of course I am not so easy going in practice. I practice at this though. The more aware I am the more I feel my principles and when I act against my principles I get a feeling, the given way of being able to listen to the Universal energy. I feel uncomfortable with myself and sometimes even angry. Now the angry haters will come down on me about that no doubt. I feel angry and I value it but I don't act out in aggression or self-berating. This self anger is a reminder that I have crossed my own morals and therefore gives me the opportunity to notice and the motivation to make changes as best I can. It is a practice.
I also realise that my ideals are permanently altering. As I learn, new information provides me with new knowledge that in turn edifies my soul and heart.
Mendacity - a new word for me. To be dishonest or lie. I do like mendacity. I know I am capable of untruths. I am so uncomfortable about this now.

Oh an ambulance helicopter has buzzed around and landed just in the village. It is leaving again now after maybe 10 minutes on the ground. I am coming up with so many different versions of the story. A farmer has lost his arm trying to fiddle with his combine harvester. Or a motor biker has crashed into a car along the little country lane. Or the church roof has collapsed and squidged someone. It must be seriously urgent for an air ambulance to arrive. I am praying for that person and feel that they are likely to be saved with the speedy reaction. It brings to mind Simon who died after a horrible motor accident. He rode at fast speed into a lamppost I think I remember. His wife and children were in the car and saw it happen. The ambulance came and he got up and walked into it. But apparently the internal bleeding was so bad that he died in the ambulance. No on realised!! That was so awful.
She has a new partner now I believe and continues to run his gardening business.

So back to whatever it was I was writing....
Nature not ever ending. Even if the planet were to die out nature carries on - the Universe. And I guess if the Universe were to go, there would be something in it's place. Nothing is something. Like silence is full of sounds.

It is always interesting how in the UK where things are not gendered, we often gender things. A car and nature are often she's. Yet in many other languages things are gendered.
She is nature and often used as an anology to wrap us up in and nurture us etc etc. I am not sure that I view nature as a female. What actually is nature? We are all nature and everything is nature. Nature may be affected by man and man made things surely are even nature?
It is life and everything itself. It is never-ending.

I wonder if I could be a fictonal writer in some way? It would be good to just do it but it would also be greater if it was something that was good enough to be published and distributed and people wanted to read. What would my story be abuot. Of course I am bored by my life but that is where inspiration comes from I suppose. I wonder what inspired Christopher Fry. He was commissioned to write and so the basis of the commission was in itself an inspiration. Then the story unfolds from there.
I would like to see one of his plays. I could perhaps simply read one.

Bliss
XX