Watching The Birth of a God

All the historical references and the origins of Norse and Pagan, Celtic, and various other cultures is more than adequately recorded by much more academic historians than I. What I am writing is an observation, and a growing belief that it is in fact the birth of a God I am seeing, not the entrenching of a tradition.

Our children, for the first time in all of our growth as sentient beings, are now bombarded with films, TV serials, pictures,text,instagram and facebook images and a dozen other methods, of a Santa. Whose life, behaviour,traditions and dress have slowly detached themselves from history, from religious bases,from the green clothing of the historical figure and the many attributes of Pagan cultural influences as well as any of the Abrahamic birthed religions under the Christian umbrella.

This new Godlike being known as Santa, is magical, wears a red suit, has a huge belly and an equally huge laugh. He is all giving, peaceful, kind, generous and considerate. Forever understanding and gives every child and sometimes adults, wishes, second chances and never, ever punishes. His white beard is luxurious, he is middle aged with a wife but has no children of his own, except occasionally when he has a son or a daughter who are going to take over his business as Santa one day, but then disappears in the next film and Santa is then looking for a child to adopt.But because he is Santa it is understood that no one really knows the truth. He is the epitome of goodness and love and lives in a mystical and invisible place near or in the North Pole.

He is a world wide cult figure being slowly assimilated into many eastern countries traditions as those countries become involved in the mass production of toys and plastic figures of Santa, Decorations of Santa and Candles and various items of clothing mimicking his suit for Fancy Dress.

Children from different cultures whose families have moved into Western based countries are also assimilating his myth into their worlds and many children celebrate the Christmas Traditions of gift giving and enormous celebratory meals and parties , if not the religion behind it. The actual celebration in a commercial sense is absorbed, so that they are not different from their peers. Families are brought under pressure to 'let the children celebrate the tradition of gifting' and so they give in and bit by bit, Santa is known throughout the whole world.

Even charities get in on the act, collecting 'Shoeboxes' a collection of small useful gifts such as colouring books and pencils, combs and mirrors, little things, all packed into a shoebox and gift wrapped'. They are then shipped off to places like Africa , India and often war torn or ecologically challenged places .Here children from society are missed out by consumerism. Third world countries whose economy cannot support such consumerism also become beneficiaries. The children are gifted the shoebox present and the idea of Santa.

It is the Media where the ideology is becoming presented to the world as a different format from the original. Here the films, the programmes rarely mention St Nicolas, though in some countries Santa does bear that name. Yet throughout the world Santa Klaus, Kris Kringle, Santa Claus, Chris Cringle, is known to the children. they share their hopes and ideas between friends on Face book, learning of new names, ideas, traditions from each other as those friends encompass the whole wide world.

Our children and our grandchildren are not buying into the religions, they are buying into the consumerism and the factory bosses, the bankers, the shops, will do all in their power to entrench the ideas. The added bonus of increased food spending on luxury items, the decorations, the trees and lights, especially the lights. Only increases the desire for the traders to keep alive this growing phenomena.

With a world of children to sell too, a world wide market, it is in the fiscal interest of many to keep Santa alive.

He will soon become a 'person' in reality, his, is the only culture who is represented by physical beings. dressed up to look like him, given societies blessing to mimic him and the children understand he isn't the 'real' Santa, but one of his helpers. They are warned about going near a stranger to save their lives and their purity all of their lives. Except at Christmas where they are encouraged to go sit on a complete strangers lap, give him their dreams and tell him where they live.

Santa will grow stronger over the years, he is a cult figure who doesn't carry a gun or a knife, doesn't harm or hurt, is beneficent and good throughout. He is the single figure throughout the worlds history who crosses boundaries, judges no one for their status, standing or social presence. He finds even the loneliest of children to bring them a present or a dream or hope. He creates harmony where there was disharmony. he has the power to stop wars on his special day the 25th December as was witnessed on  the front line during two world wars. He is....Santa.

Eventually, this once upon a time man, who became a Saint, who evolved into a magical figure, will take over the world. Children will follow his banner, keeping his sacred day safe, celebrating him, reluctant to give him up, because he is the only male figure, the only iconic image and the only adult in their entire world, who though he has a naughty and nice list.....never leaves out a child, never harms them, does not approve of war, of bullying of cruelties..he is All Good.

You know him, you tell your children about him, you make him fun and good and sweet and gentle, you make him magical. You take your children to see him with his elves and his fairies.

You uphold him.

Santa is the name for God on the lips of many children, he provides , he cherishes and he protects and he also gives you the presents you asked for...every year.

He isn't becoming a god, he is one, you make him so, every time you buy your children a present in his name.

In Love With Being Alive

Why a hat ? well have hat will travel or maybe , just maybe, because buying this hat as a gesture of joy and happiness was the first day I realised just how much I love life.
Last Friday was a dreadful day, my son lives in France, was out of touch and literally I froze with fear. I had no idea if he was in Paris that awful night, he goes to Paris with friends occasionally, its a random event. I was afraid for 12 hours until he contacted me, marked himself safe on Face book and reassured me. His village is filled with troops and police presence and he is OK, he is alive, he is...my eldest boy and precious to me.

Relieved about his situation, I remained, as did the world, horrified at the carnage. I am not going to rant here, there would be little point. Enough to say I share the horror and the fear equally and remain...very glad I am alive.

Being alive and feeling alive are two distinctly different experiences, I have existed for the last few years in a brain fog caused by various factors. I have simply rolled with the living that seemed possible, never enthusiastic, or awed or any positive emotions, just...existing.

Recent changes in my health regime which included adding turmeric to my world caused vast emotional changes, positivity came along and booted the brain fog right out. Reactions and responses changed, my perspective altered. The more positive the actions in my thoughts, in my physical world, paid into further improvements and now...I am alive. Its a first for a long time, its beneficial to everyone if I am positive, alive, in touch with and expressing y emotional contentment. I am the head of my family, what affects me, affects my children, my grand children.

The world events affect us all, that is indisputable, the ripple effects of whether or not someone you love is caught up in a world event becomes negative or positive as the events unfold. Recently a friend was caught up in the terrible hurricane that swept across South America. I became aware of his danger and affected by his situation. Concerned and relieved when he marked himself safe on an emergency contact provided by social media.Another friend was in Paris, the relief when she marked herself safe, again through social media was palpable.

The direct connection between my son and I and his 'possible' situation had me in a blind panic of fear and reactive to the least little bit of news, names, video posts. Watching each and every video posted on line to see if my sons face was on there. Eagerly seeking information from every avenue, frightened and revolted by the carnage created by such selfish individuals. Afraid and at the same time becoming passionately involved in the entire situation as I saw acts of bravery, events I hope to the highest of heavens I am never personally , ever, involved in. So very glad I was safe,secure in a situation far removed from such diabolical events.

I woke after a genuine nights sleep so alive, so aware of the freshness of the air, the feel of rain on my cheeks, the crunch of leaves under my feet. I felt.............alive. The near catastrophe of my sons well being avoided, no longer present, created an awareness of my love of life and my enjoyment of its being has increased a thousand fold.I am grateful I am were I am, happy within myself. Incredibly moved by events unfolding in the world scene, scared and afraid of the events possible and yet to be. Aware in a way I wasn't before.

Fear and factors of terror, implied threats and dominating violence's throughout the world, are not a reason for feeling happy, they are however, reasons to be grateful its not in my back yard, not in my experience.

I feel for those in Syria, Iraq,Libya,Paris , I have compassion for Ethiopia and African states now suffering drought. I will engage with any and every possible support it is within my power to help. I am more aware politically than ever before. I am studying the world political stage as never before. I am unafraid of my own life and my own living, I am grateful, happy to be alive and actually living my life, not existing.

To 'come alive' at this time in our world stage, to finally be able to engage with living after so many years of existence has been a huge wake up call. I remain, content and happy I am that living person, someone who is grateful and actively engaging, that the world stage has displayed such agonising issues is something I cannot alter on my own, but I can and will join the vast humanity who will make their voices heard. I will engage with the call to stand and be counted. I won't make a huge difference on my own, but as a member of the human nation I can, I will.

I want my fellow man, to feel happy to be alive, grateful for their world. It won't happen in my life time, doubtfully, but it may begin in my lifetime. My children and grand children are inheriting a world of pain, old wars of black v white, your religion v their religion, slavery, domination's, border conflicts and oil wars...old ways, old wars. I want that to stop. Only by retaining my love of life, of living can I continue to enable where possible a fight for a peaceful world where countries don't bury food because of its misshapen appearance while whole families die of starvation across a sea. I want.equality for the worlds citizens, I want them too, to feel glad to be alive.


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Choosing To Live Alone

Choosing to live alone is apparently unusual. That choice is one I made the day my ex husband ran off with his two bottle peroxide personage, half my age! (not that I am bitter ha ha) that was over 25 years ago. I lapsed around eight years ago for a two year period, which was disastrous for both me and my long term boyfriend of ten years. We love each other, absolutely, but our differences, the very things that attract us in each other, also make it virtually impossible to share the same living space.

We agreed  we needed to stay together as a couple, but in our own homes, which has worked rather well ever since. Nothing like being on your own to really test the waters of conscience and commitment. Happily we continue in our personal connection and our own unique way of being 'us', but I still prefer to live, alone.

I swore I would never be dependent or in need of aid from another human being ever again. When my ex did his little runner, it left my family in complete and total disarray and it took me twelve years to work off the debts and the issues he left behind, There was a great deal of emotional damage to sort out for my teenage children and an equal amount of personal identity searching and ego re-training for myself. One person, caused so much hurt and pain that it completely swamped my every day life for years and the choice of being alone came into being with a great deal more strength.

The aids available now, for anyone living alone, were not in existence when my journey first began. Now we have Skype which means I see and speak to my eldest son in France whenever I wish. He has taken me on tours of his home, the land he lives on, introduced me to friends and close extended family all via the Skype app. I can chat to my Mother and a host of others by the same method.

Daily I swap information with people on Facebook who are hundreds, thousands or just a few miles away from where I live. Twitter puts me in touch with more people. E mails again, fill out any empty moments. I can watch TV on my laptop and I can interact on chat rooms in real time, expressing my opinions or simply engaging in a little conversation.Regular contact via my mobile phone enables connections with any number of family and friends if I so desire.

Alone now, is not what it was when I first set out to be that condition. My first Christmas alone, was exactly that, no people, no telephone or computer or mobile phone or even a TV. I had a radio which enabled me to listen to BBC4 and I had my cat, that was it. I filled my days with sewing my grand daughters Nicole and Toni, hand made dollies. I made candles and cakes, painted, drew pictures and created a few small sculptures and generally spoke to not a soul.

Once a fortnight I would go to see my Mother and sister who live together, occasionally I would walk into town or a local shop, but in general it could be 5 or more days before I would speak to another person.I would chat away, unaware that it was overkill. Words would teem from my lips, speeding up as I hastened to get everything 'said' before I would be on my own again. I had not truly come to understand the dark side of choosing aloneness, I suffered the consequences without understanding.

Years passed, I spent two years living in my car, with no outside contact other than the obligatory payment for petrol. No pets, nothing to distract me, I painted with a passion, wrote reams of books which were diaries more than anything. Burning them all at the end of the year in a self created rite of cleansing the past away.

I came to understand that conversation, real live exchanging words with someone to actually hear them. Was preferable to speaking to the dog, the wall or shouting at the TV because I didn't like something I had seen. I discovered a need for human connection but on my terms.  I realised that the 'oddity gene' in me, the bit of me that didn't like being too close to people, had always been there. But that it needed regulating if I were to stop myself from becoming 'the mad woman ' in the end house. Or the weir-do in the woods or whatever else society would label me for wishing to avoid complete contact with them.

When my husband had left, and despite my choosing to live alone, I had interacted with people. I had disastrous relationships which only entrenched the idea of being alone. I made poor decisions and equally stupid actions as I struggled to redefine myself. Eventually I discovered my own self. Found where I felt comfortable and then the world wide web made its presence truly felt.Here was my ability to connect together my personal physical aloneness and my need to communicate, to create a beautiful balance.

Mobile phones could now access the Internet, it opened up a new world. I attended college, found a new career and began to look for a proper home. I am still looking. I have lived in my car, a caravan, flats, houses and currently am in the middle of nowhere. Up until four weeks ago my nearest neighbour was two miles away. Surrounded by forests and a river and a zillion ancient trees. I have lived a solitary life for over 25 years with the unfortunate abysmal lapse of two years aforementioned.

My disastrous two years with the BF taught me just how much being alone actually means to me. Going to bed when I wish. Rising when I choose. My choice of programmes, music,food,dress code. My choice of literature and when and how I read a good book. I missed my moments of curling up with a book, a cup of coffee and the peace and quiet of a good read. I missed my bed being my own. I was too far gone in the 'alone' stakes to enjoy sharing.I wanted to laugh out loud uproariously without getting frowned at. I wanted a bath at 2am and none to tell question me. I wanted......my freedom again.

So we parted, still friends, still together but swearing to never live 'with' each other. My slide into 'aloneness' began again, this time with a great deal more certainty. I chose to not only live alone, but to cut off from society as much as was possible. I deliberately isolated myself. I walked my dogs very early or late to avoid human contact. That sort of thing. Now I have different needs. I have to choose to rejoin society for personal reasons.

I am soon to return to the concrete jungles of normal society. From living here, and ten years in particular in beautiful Harlech alongside the sea in splendid isolation of building and neighbour alike. I will enter the dreaded zone of society. The Town!

I am afraid of  it. I will be rubbing shoulders with a real neighbour, other people, streets full of cars, houses,people, noise and disruption. I am to return to this society to be closer to my Mother and sister. Yet I will find a lot of society difficult to deal with.  I can't stand crowds, and hatred of general noise will be a real issue. The loudest thing I have dealt with for over a decade has been the cries of the local birds as they sing the dawn chorus.

Eventually I will isolate myself again. At the appropriate time, I will find a place, away from the world and his wife. Find my inner sense of peace and safety. I don't like the human race very much, an awful lot of people seem to want to hurt each other, judge each other. I like my quiet, with the occasional foray out to do a spot of shopping and a chit chat...Then back to my womb like home with its gadgetry and capability to speak to the world...or turn the electric supply off and reign in supreme isolation. Queen of all I survey and not a human subject in sight. I love, living alone.

Facebook My Enemy My Friend

Today I read about Cecil the Lion, about Cob in Bulgaria,Cameron and Tax Credit Cuts, the Heathrow T5 Club and First Class Passengers Lounge, about Marianne Azizi and her attempt to display cruelties in Israeli children taken from their parents, about Ellen DeGeneres and miracles and a plethora of other inviting and sometimes offensive posts.

What struck me the most is the diverse interests of so many people. When the post about Tesco in the UK putting security tags on their plastic bags was made . There was as much interest in that post as there was about the terrible crisis in Indonesia and the awful fire creating so much devastation. Political posts are vying with little videos of grand children saying Gan Gan . Diverse and on occasion frustrating or thought provoking, but never boring.

Tupac singing is as liable to  rub shoulders with an old print of Princess Diana as a modern post of Prince Harry and the likeable baby pig snuffling a bowl of food.
Such diversity is the gift of Facebook and other social media. I find it fascinating and avidly read for a couple of hours a day the variety of posts made by my friends and those marked for public view.

What I dislike is the tremendous amount of false images or stolen images with spurious captions. One particular photograph, stolen from a newspaper article about a little girl injured by her playmate. That particular one had a huge written comment, 'press like if you'r against child abuse' and at the bottom of the image F***  you if you can't press like.

What on EARTH did the creator of such an image think they were doing?. The poor parents of this child are the focus for a real campaign from ignorant people. The child herself will grow up with constant references to this image the 'is this you' stuff. The person who stole her image gave no thought whatsoever to the trauma they are storing up for a little girl, or her parents. All for what?

Discovering posts being created purely to hit at peoples emotional responses, worries me. There is seemingly no barrier to the depths of depravity or despicable displays that some will stoop to. For some it is the need for recognition. The desire to be 'popular' and for others it is to have the most 'likes', the most shares or the most comments. I fail to understand why such posts are allowed. There has to have been more than just myself reported the ones that mislead, misguide,misjudge.

The harm done to people through posting pictures of a man and claiming he is a paedophile. No proofs offered, just an anonymous post. It could well be the act of a vengeful girlfriend, or someone with a grudge. But how many people immediately click 'like' or share and make a comment about the person should die? without checking first..

The same for some of the videos, Parents making a video of their child swearing in language that would make a Liverpool Docker blush, isn't funny, or at least I never thought so myself. Apparently, it amuses some. Which too me is incomprehensible but as they say, different strokes, for different folks.

Yet I am addicted to Facebook, to Twitter (a different post one day) to the newly popular Medium and the Instagram and other such social avenues. They have become my 'latest news' items. Not what the News 'is' on programmes costing thousands of pounds to create. The news as perceived as important, by the ordinary man and woman, costing no more than the time they use to say their piece.

I can judge almost to the last 'like' what will receive a comment, a click of the mouse on various posts I make. My rants usually get lots of attention, unless they are 'social awareness' rants. If its a rant against animal cruelty I don't think many on my friends list miss an opportunity to click on it, make a comment about it.  If I post a family issue, something I am proud of like Ellie and Abbie my two grand daughters, currently in local news for charity efforts, then I have lots of lovely comments from Mothers and members of family. Always nice to read. If I select a piece of music, then my 60's and 70's rock seems far more appreciated than anything else.Even the occasional classic gets attention.

What is happening, is that I have become an observer of social mores, social attitudes and awareness or otherwise of political knowledge. Of the massive disparity in education in various strata of society. I became horrified at how little my younger friends understood about how important the vote is, especially for women. Delighted when posts brought about a change as with Cecil the Lion and his tragic death. Pleased when Anti hunt posts gained enough popularity to create genuine actions.

I am happy to see social changes, awareness and education being used, as much as I despair at the puerile, offensive and sometimes bigoted posts that can blight a good hours reading.

All in all, social media sites are both my friend and my enemy, in some ways, possibly one of the best things to be created since the world wide web came into being. In other ways a great evil can be created as much as a great good can be wrought. I remain, an avid reader of social sites and a very blessed user of them and their sisterhood, the blog.

Odd Feelings and Emotional Moments

See the view in this image, this is what I am surrendering of my own choice in less than 4 weeks time. Looking through my photographs, this one, made me think. Originally my need to move home was based on the extreme length of time it takes to reach where my little Mum lives, followed by a need to find a decent place for me to enjoy a little retirement and some peace and quiet.
Coming to this estate at the invitation of my friend, gave me the space I needed to recover from ill health and rebuild my energy. Leaving, is sapping the very will from me.

I can't stay, that is because of fiscal reasons, the estate is now let out, and my friend did offer me an alternative home as a gesture of kindness, but we all have to be responsible for ourselves in the end, and I cannot keep accessing charitable gestures,  it doesn't sit well with me.
So here I am, looking for a place to live for a few years, use as a base so that I can begin my last great adventure.

The desire to travel and research and paint and take the images and make the articles I wish too, is as strong now as when I first conceived the idea. The only difference is, I realised I still needed a base for it to work properly. Britain is not a very forgiving land, the weather can be treacherous and the winds catastrophic because we are not a wide open place. Trees fall randomly, my luck says I would be one of the random places, that sort of thing. It is the knowledge if it can happen to anyone, its going to be me, ensures I have a high level of safety awareness. having a base means, time out, review time and recuperation time if my health should become an issue.

I began to research places to rent over three weeks ago and all I can find are awful little tiny places with no gardens and views that consist of more boxes all the same shape with possibly a door painted a different colour but that's about it.

No trees, or fields, no forests, no hills, just........bricks, concrete and other peoples rubbish.
After ten or more years of open vistas, mountains and fields for views it is without doubt, singularly depressing.

In some countries, like Rumania or America there is land to spare, places where someone who loves the alternative off grid life style can genuinely become integrated with the land, at one with their world. That isn't truly available i England, might, 'just' be possible in Wales or Scotland but it would still be a real challenge to find the kind of unloved land that needs someone with my skills to love it to beauty and splendid usefullness.

I am, today, at the bottom of my own pit of despair, to drive away from here will hurt, to leave behind ancient woodland and willingly encase myworld, my life, my entire being in a concrete jungle with all its attendant issues is not what I truly wish to do. There is no alternative that I can see except perhaps to take up the life of a tramp and stay a homeless person, refusing to commit to civilised living....its a tempting thought

Golden Paste and The Interesting Brain Fog and a Major Sulk

Life is seldom easy going, every single one of us can point to a half dozen challenges, both big and small to deal with on a daily basis. But when your brain is filled with 'fog' the ability to decide, to challenge, to simply on some occasions actually think...becomes a decidedly nasty factor of life.
Too much stress and my mind went into a bank of negative fog and refused to come out.

I can be a Drama Queen as well as the next female, I can have a good sulk as well as the rest of humanity but this was something entirely different. With so much going on in my life, so many different challenges and a half dozen different ways of dealing with any one issue and combinations thereof....I lost the path. Wandered off into the 'poor me' alley and settled down on a handy bench full of 'its not fair' moments. In other words, I was sulking.

AT the point of trying to balance where the heck my usual 'cool' had gone, I entered the brain fog. I had not only lost my thought self, I had now compounded the issue with a complete lack of care for my physical self. Oh the biter was finally bit.

As Silver I often work for people in similar situations....I will never use the term ' you just have to pull yourself together' to anyone ever again...because when it was said to me all I could think of was HOW?. Just how on earth do you get your act together when every fibre of your being wants to turn tail, run to the nearest cave and hibernate for a few decades.

The answer was actually right in front of me around 4 or 5 weeks ago. T
I began a series of movements to create a better me.
I removed wheat and refined sugar from my diet. I added Kefir to my regime.
I meditated again. I removed negative thinking patterns by writing it all down, deleting it or burning it to physically display to my brain i didn't want to keep 'thinking', I promoted good sleep and
I discovered Turmeric ! or more correctly Golden Paste.

This link will take you to a great website that actually explains all the ins and the outs. 

Turmeric Life

All I can say is that the moment I took the divine Golden Paste a mixture of pure virgin coconut oil, organic turmeric and fresh ground black peppercorns my entire brain fog literally just went away.

The difference was amazing, not only in my physical self, my mental self, I can think again, the clear cut, focused me is back. No more muddled thinking.
Its hard to realise who 'that woman' was then

and who I am now.

I posted into the Turmeric User Group on Face book, I displayed the horrible picture of me taken at the exact moment of a crisis and the powerful results after clearing out the brain, using Golden Paste and of course buying 'the hat'.

Its all good.

Of course i followed the recipe recommended on the website. I had cut out the wheat/refined sugar/started to fight back, drank kefir but it wasn't lifting the fog, it helped the physical me a little, but the brain stuff just sat and sulked  ever more.
Golden Paste really did mind wipe the fog, gone, not a tiny bit left. I don't know if my Pitruity Gland was on the blink, calcifying perhaps, or some kind of depression had got a grip...whatever was wrong...it isn't there now thank heavens.

Now I am back to mapping out my journeys. How I will get them together, where I will go and what I want to photograph, research and challenge...I am indeed ME, at last. I won't be losing my Golden Paste, I will use it to keep those golden moments in my life that little bit longer :)

This Glorious Sky

Have you ever looked up into the sky and been awed ?. Did you ever try to capture the moon between your hands, a falling star on the tip of your finger?

Have you ever seen The Glory?

I have.

Tonight I walked out into the dark night. Where I am at this time, there are no lights, no street or road near bye. I am in the middle of a forest, in the deepest part of Devon and there is no such thing as light pollution. There is simply the night sky and the glory.

Stars sparkle with an extra keen brightness, planets twinkle away with a luminosity beyond anything I would see from a city or town. The sky itself is deepest black and every single tiny star shines like so much diamond  looking as if they have been powered by a couple of million watt L.E.D. lights helping it along. It really is that stark a contrast, that brilliant a display. It fills me with awe.

Staring upwards, my ears attuned to the Owls screech or hoot, the soughing of the wind, the trees leaves are turning into the shades autumn creates, drying out, rustling and drifting in falling scattered black shapes against the moonlights beams. It is a magical. mystical moment.

All thought seems suspended in this night scape, the clamour of television, the almost angry shrill of telephone land line or mobile, is absent. No voices other than the small wild creatures of the night make themselves heard. I can hear my own footsteps as I cross the rough stoned drive, crunch, crunch, as I make my way to a small circular clearing at the top of the drive. It is surrounded by old, ancient trees. Mostly Oak, several I would call 'mighty' standing with the gnarled branches and thick , almost comforting in size, trunks.

Sentinels of the land, they stand in black shadowed majesty pointing towards the sky, and when I look upwards, the trees branches are closing overhead in a circle of silhouetted twigs, leaves and branches. Natures own picture frame gives me a perfect capture of the nights sky and the brilliance of stars scattered across the sky canvas makes me almost breathless. It is truly beautiful.

Vast, majestic,it is inspiring thoughtful contemplation and I feel small, and insignificant in the great pattern of the Universe. I find perspective in that enromous array. I find my place in the world, in the scheme of things. I am not the centre of the Universe, part of it, but not the centre and the issues hauntng me at this time, will not matter at all in ten, fifteen, twenty years time. They will not be of importance and the scale of time I use, is nothing but the blink of the Universal eye in reality.

I love the Glory, the times when every single star seems to be almost within reach, when the Milky Way is sharp and bright and snaking its way across my vision  with come hither glitter, begging my adventurous soul to find a way to come, see, touch, the stars.

I am never going to truly travel through those stars, my heart longs to sail in alien ships through skies of uncharted beauty, my eyes long to see for themselves, not through the lens of a telescope, the grandeur, the magnificence of those galaxies and those amazing clouds and planets, the Rings of Moons, of planets. it will not be, not in this life time.

I content myself, that one day perhaps one of my descendents will. It is a comforting thought. My travelling gene passed on and fulfilled in some distant time. I like the idea, and content myself with seeing tonight, the stars glittering and shining , twinkling and pulsing and think how glorious our sky is.
Finding peace in simple veiws of a canvas that changes nightly and gives a lasting memory.

Tonight I saw the glory, it was............breathtaking.

I Blame Ray Mears

When the BBC transmitted Coast for the first time it was a magnificent programme that inspired thousands to explore our land. Ray Mears, Bush craft, Northern Wilderness and Survival with Ray Mears proved so popular that other programmes soon followed. Dead or Alive, Mantracker and many others inspired a human desire to challenge, to experience, to 'be' the one to test their own abilities against Nature itself. I cannot deny they also influenced my own current choices. I blame Ray Mears for inspiring my itchy foot syndrome, his display of skills, interesting bits and pieces, his Wild food programme, all tickled the restless me. All; filmed with his unique personality shining through, the sincerity, the genuine love of the land, and it spoke to that hidden part of my soul. 

I am not as ingenious, knowledgeable or clever as Ray Mears, I am 63, a little old lady...how could I have my adventure, bring into it as much as is possible of all that has inspired me, and keep myself safe.........there was the seeds of it all, lay before me, less than two months ago. 

Today is the decision day. The light at the end of the darkness; is there, in my own hands. All the research has come together, all the inspirations, the positives and the negatives have joined the dots of my questions into a workable theory and it is time. 

My time. 

Throughout my mental processing I have had the support of a network of beautiful people. Friends, sisters in strife, brothers in bother and steady, balanced people with thoughts, concerns, objections, promotions and a variety of comments... (most not printable in an article viewed by any age group).

 I have been told to stop, to do it, to wait, to go now and advised methodically and consistently to do my research before I make my decisions. I have taken it all on board. 

Those who have written, e mailed and rung me, in boxed me with numerous links and articles have had my very best interests at heart. For that I love them unconditionally. To be the focus of so many person’s real concerns, expressed in terms they knew I could accept fully, is humbling.

 I have, taken it all on board, I have begun my own physical processes and I am determined. 

I will begin my adventures, with Caesar and Jake as my companions, cameras and lap top, kindle and I phone all safely tucked up in my little car by the end of October.

 I am ready, my heart, my body, my mind is all focused on the journey yet to be.

 At the root of it all is the thoughts that began this madcap idea.

My father, bless his soul, passed to the next realm at the age of 67, my dear mother is still with us at the magnificent age of 87, heart whole, mind as sharp as a blade and more life in her little finger than I have in my entire self.

 The thought was simple,

 IF I live as long as my Dada then I have 4 Christmases, 4 Birthdays, 4 years to enjoy all that I have so much wanted to see and experience.

 IF I am blessed with my Mothers energy and hold on life, I will only have a limited time before my body will be too fragile to take the many extra testing points such a journey will naturally create.

 It is time, I have maybe 4 maybe 24 years ahead of my life.

 It is time.............to hit the road.

Cross With Myself

 My world centres around my art, my writings, my dogs, growing things,making things and watching one or two television programmes obsessively, Bones,CSI (any version) and The Great British Bake Off, in other words, from the gruesomely realistic to the gorgeously edible. I use my lap top and my PC far more than most. I live a 'virtual life' as do many thousands of others. Facebook beckons over breakfast. e mails demand before dinner, catch ups and reviews,articles and various blogs I follow; entice before tea.

I prefer my own company, am happy to Skype, FB or exchange little video snap shots of life and carry on regardless working through the day at various times. I am self employed, enjoy my work and combine my various interests as a way of funding myself through life. Genealogist, Consultant and Author, Photographer , Artist and Blogger. None of which on there own make me a living, but the combinations make me an income I can cope with on a monthly basis.

So a pretty together female, who keeps herself, has a lot of energy usually, can be opiniated, pro active and all the other little facets to make up my personality...then today, well......................

I am so cross with myself this morning, after months of being 'good' I turned into a mealy mouthed and negative wit batting person. I am dissapointed with myself. I have had life lessons for over 60 years now, things to be, say,do which worked, didn't work, should have worked and all the experiences inbetween.

Putting my foot in it because I have had very little sleep is not a good thing. I have more control than that...or rather I thought I had more control than that. Instead, a gentle enquiry from a well meaning Till girl at Tesco today had me rip into a series of cutting and vicious and unusually for me gender and various other based comments meant purely to display my own anger, bruised feelings and annoyance. Poor girl didn't know what to say to me except...'oh thats awful'

I came home to the usual excited welcome of my dogs and realised that living a reclusive life has a really bad effect on communications with others. Over share, excited verbalisation of everything in your head....or total voluntary mutism seem to be the extremes and on a sliding scale a mix of the two can be the reactions and responses to being exposed to other human beings when the norm is to see not a living soul for weeks on end.

The poor Tesco Till Girl had received ( almost one could compare it to or make an analogy of the PC when it 'dumps data indiscriminately') the entire contents of my head in a vicious swiping, cutting commentary about a situation I have found myself in and a very negative phone call the previous evening. The result was a sleepless night, an inability to work and the pent up thoughts and anger which had been repressed 'burst through' the normally trap like 'lips seal'........she got it, I said it, I own it...and I wish I had saved it for the real people responsible. The display was short, not particularly public insofar as there was just one chap in the queue behind me, but.I feel cross with myself.

I need to process why I lashed out without thought at the situation. Am I feeling far more threatened than I have been willing to admit, am I in need of a short delve into humanity and a bit more exposure to other people, what made me that person....and once its sorted in myhead, I am so not going to Tesco for a few weeks...embarrassed , I owe the till girl an apology, she didn't need to know the negatives...and I didn't need to vent at her, but she handled it well and I need to go sort out what I really do need to do...........tell the person responsible exactly what I think.

Engage brain before using mouth syndrome .

To go or Not to go ?

Susan Morrison Jones (63) 2015

Well! to quote Primo Levi ' but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing the blind,deaf stone alone with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head

Winter is coming ! to add a quote from Game of Thrones.

I can't decide. My dogs are eager to be off and away, they have itchy feet too. Caesar and Jake are the corner stone of my life. They are four legged but they are my family, my friends. We have amazing discussions where I get to do all the talking and they patiently listen, give me a little encouraging lick, or snuggle to let me know they are still attentive. But they can't answer me. I can only guess what they want. The only thing I am certain of , for them, is we will be together.

This is where I am finally at, the penultimate moment. Do I go NOW ? or do I wait a few weeks and get some money under my belt ?

What to do is driving me crazy. The sun is shining, the weather is beautiful, I can hear the sea in my head. Legolas in the final chapters of The Lord of The Rings says he can hear the sea calling him and comments he will never be at peace again....me too! I have missed my beach, my beautiful five miles of unspoiled gorgeous sand, sea and dunes. I have missed my friends so much. Need the wild Welsh Hills and the deep dark forests. Its like having an amputation of the spirit.

But the sensible side of me is saying wait, wait, wait. A Camper Van would have answered a great many issues and I would have been gone the day I had the keys, but it isn't too be. Out of my financial capabilities and so its the car, the dogs, a few material possessions and the all important decision.......when ?

but it will be soon now. I can't scratch that itchy foot syndrom out of my personality, its there, its permanent. SO now.......its that moment when I have no choices beyond now...or then, but the when ultimate moment is November the 1st.

Tally Ho indeed

Highway to Hell. Stairway to Heaven

Mount Snowdon 2014

Inspirational people like Olive Riley (108 yr old Blogger), and 102 yr old Buster Martin are just two of the reasons I am going on my Last Great Adventure (LGA) others who inspire me are the 92 yr old lady who clouted a mugger in New York with her Brolly and the 84 yr old Victorian woman who climbed Mount Everest. But the greatest inspiration of all is the human condition. The people whose lives are currently so much more difficult than my own.

I watched Tony Robinson in his Me and my Mum programme, in it was a wonderful woman Rosa who is spending the best part of her young adult life caring for her mother who suffers from dementia. During her part of the programme she made comments concerning how she will deal with growing old, and if she becomes like her mother and as she has no family herself...her ultimate doom...the Care Home.

I worked for years in Care Homes, not all are bad places, some are truly very caring, supportive places but some, a few, are the hell holes of a so called caring society and I have witnessed it for myself. The  result of my witness was to get sacked for speaking out !!!

 The thought that one day I would inhabit a place like that has set me thinking...what will I do when I grow old?

For a start one has to pre - suppose that some sort of early warning would be given you that your losing the marbles God granted you or else a seriously strong display that your health is going to trap you in your own home....and hopefully that is when you can make a choice.

Why is a choice necessary in the first place? Well because quite frankly I am surrounded by our caring society as it stands now and I don't give much for my chances of staying free, capable and sane.

I nearly wrote some examples and thought better of it, examples of this modern day where men and women live alone, and are left to struggle because their family are busy or they have no friends to rely on or else they have developed peculiar traits which society cannot accept because we are expected to all live the life the media is displaying as a norm..............

I decided against those examples because quite frankly this blog  would turn into a sermon and that’s not the purpose here. We ALL know of people who live alone, who struggle, and who are independent and often refuse help more out of pride than anything. I know very well that I am guilty of pride. It has stopped me more than once from asking for help and I am still young enough to deal with my life...but one day I won't be.

What to do go down in a blaze of glory or whimper away until I fade completely? Do I intend to burden myself on my children? On my sister? Or shall I find a beloved who could care for me if I fell or had a heart attack?

Do I climb Mount Snowdon one more time?

Or do I let nature take its course?

Or do I intend to 'leave at my own time' and swallow a packet of whatever!!!!

The sheer fact that I am thinking about all this is not because I am maudlin but because right up until your 50 it doesn't really matter then you tip over the apex of life’s journey and it’s all downhill from here...who knows how long you will live for, how long is a piece of string ?.......exactly !

So at 50 you think oops! and start to live a little more freely, by 55 yrs your determined to live well, to spoil the kids/grandkids/friends and then you’re facing 60 and it’s a different story altogether...this is a serious development, your own on the slide now, it’s getting faster and age is not a number any more, it’s an ailment.

Health matters start to raise their ugly head, not colds and flu but arthritis, rheumatism, aching this or that, nasty tests start appearing on the Doctors screens, suddenly life is very ,very sweet because it might not be yours for much longer.

Then you find you can't lift the cleaner up the stairs so you buy a lighter one and a lighter one again, you find it’s not so easy to change the curtains anymore, the washing is a chore again.

Washing that was once done over the bath, is now done in a push button box...and it’s just as tiring as the old method. Food is faddy, bath time is a nightmare just in case you slip or fall or Gods forbid get stuck in the bath. You smell your clothes and your flesh in case you smell like an old woman. That curiously musty smell so familiar when you go visiting your granny is suddenly possibly YOU.

Old is not a mental status it’s a factual aspect of our flesh and it is failing us by the time we reach where I am now looking at the door marked 'old woman'. Not yet, not for a few years but I am getting closer to it, very close and it scares the hell out of me.

What was laughed at in my 40's is no longer a laughing matter; the casual remark about needing a Zimmer Frame with go faster stripes becomes a possibility. The fear that you might not wake up in the morning becomes a threat.

Whoever said the 'state of mind' stuff obviously didn't wake up with a back that creaks, or a knee that is stiff, or hands that swell up in the cold. They never had to stop eating chocolates and cream and butter or sweets because they just entered heart attack alley with the cholesterol levels from hell. Old Age is a state of body AND a state of mind.

Living this curious learning curve is wonderful. I love every minute of my life but I also have to start looking ahead to when I am 'old'...where will I live. Do I stay close to family, just in case I need someone to help me?  or do I go for the last great adventure..........

PRO AND CON

The last great adventure is of course where my heart reaches out for, what kind of adventure, where, who with, when, how, and all the associated problems/resolutions to seek and so I made a choice.

The last great adventure it is.

How I came to this conclusion is immaterial really, the idea of slowly vegetating in a house with no real comforts beyond an old PC and a bit of furniture doesn't really make for a thrilling ride down the path towards eternal oblivion.

I constantly have drama of one sort or another in my life so traipsing off to an adventure just of my own is something that glitters on the horizon like a diamond just out of reach. The  living is there, do I reach for it and at least try or do I write about it and pretend I did.

I decided to reach for it and that is why this blog is being written. It is the beginning of the plan, the very gate I shall step through to start that last adventure before I apply for my slippers and shawl. Something to sustain my world as I slip down the final road and stride through the final gates of life....it is, I hope, going to be an exciting ride.

I made my mind up, either I am on a Highway to Hell or I am clambering up the Stairway to Heaven...either way I am sliding through the gates sideways, vodka in one hand...a bar of chocolate in the other, screaming 'WHAT A RIDE' .......adventures here we come.

So not Gangnam style

Many thanks to Les Lyon Statesville North Carolina for 'lending' me his bike  ( I wish)

I read recently that Gangnam Style is the most watched video of 2015. Interested in why I clicked over to good old Wickipedia for a quick read of what was all the fuss about.By the time I had read the excerpts from Psy and his opinion of Gangnam and what it symbolised I knew in my heart of hearts, I would never belong to the Gangnam culture. I LOVED the video, basically he is extracting the urine isn't he, which amuses me as I tend to do the same with a lot of subjects. But to get back to the video.

I didn't start writing about Gangnam for 'fun' I am seriously looking for a tune, song, music to use as my theme for The Last Great Adventure. Of course I turned to the lastes videos, MP3 and the entire internet is flooded with Psy and his Gangnam video or Taylor Swift or (shudder) 'him' the J person...moving on swiftly...*cough.

I mentioned in a few posts ago Would I still love me when I am 64 (see the menu) and the tune of The Beatles song carried on wandering around my brain, annoying me. As my friend from across the waters would say, I had an earworm (only he says earverm which is adorable) Anyway, I need a song, a theme.

I tried music associated with travel, guess what was the most popular? yes...
Highway to Hell. thank you AC DC.
Followed by that all time favourite Road to Hell. again, thanks soooooo much Chris Rea.
Mark Elyahu gave me Journey, a rendering of an experimental amount of music gaurenteed to put my teeth on edge while driving, nice for background stuff...but when driving...erm no!
Adventure brought me Mr Suicide Sheep again, which didn't make me a happy surfer.

Finally in desperation to find a piece of music whose title and content matched the theme of an adventure; a journey into the unknown . With hope and a bit of excitement.  I turned to the only search engine capable of dealing with my wittering request because poor old Youtube couldn't.
Back to Google Search.:-
Last Great Adventure Music Happy was the terminology I used and it gave me ....da da daaaaaaah

                          Tracey Emin discusses The Last Great Adventure is You

followed by the 6 Flags advert and the Venga Boys with 'We like to party'.

This was not going well.

Inspiration struck as a friend messaged me on FB 'whaddyadoin',  I explained and got the sympathetic WTF which was just very helpful...really!
She sent me on message.... 1968 ......and I fell about laughing.

In 1968 I was a Hippy, I was a Biker, I was a VERY naughty girl because I would jump a bike and go for a ride, laughing like hell with some poor guy running like the clappers behind screeching nooooooooooo give me my biiiiiiiiiiiiiiike...and away I went.On my hit list at that time was the newly introduce Ducati 250cc, the Suzuki 250cc (which I might add could be scrwed to a very nice ton ten when you knew the right mechanic) a marvelous Honda Trials 450cc an absolute sweety of a bike rarely seen with complete racing kit a 160 Suzy and yes I have to argue that one and my absolute beautiful moment on a Bonnerville 650 which was too big for me to handle and my training bike, my darling T Bird, 2'6" ape hangers and up-swept exhausts, mag ignition and a beast to kick start...see I was naughty but I did have taste.

See there you were thinking 63 years old boring old woman...well I am so not (imagine the grin please I can't find the emoticon) (which by the way is a word that comes up as mis spelled in spell check sheesh )

So were was I 1968 yes...the last year of freedom, the year before I met the idiot I would marry (which actually makes me the idiot so we will move on quickly)

The last year of genuine, undiluted; absolutely must enjoy it...freedom. The year of Rowan and Martins Laugh in (if you never saw this go find it on Youtube )
The Veit Cong attacked the US Embassy in Saigon,
The Hippies Peace Man not War became 'the' chant,
Space Oddesey is released the scifi film of the decade.
Martin Luther King is shot dead.
Enoch Powell speaks his Rivers of Blood ,
The first Heart Transplant happens.
The Musical Hair opens on Broadway
in fact for major historical events 1968 takes some beating. More info here:-
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1968

 I could go on and on, 1968 was THE year,

But for all the historical moments and all the tragedies 68 was also the year for music greats, tragedies and absolute blown away memorable music, a list of which you can find here:-
http://www.songfacts.com/released-1968-1.php

Gibson put the Flying v on its guitars,
Syd Barret checked himself into medical help and Gilmore joined Pink Floyd,
Johnny Cash sang at Folsam Prison,
The final episode of The Monkeys is aired,
The last time the Yarbirds play together,
My absolute devastation to discover Cream would disband was awesome as I wept as only a teenager can. Hormones !!!!

Basically if you want to know more you can go Google it and find more and more. 1968 was the year for so much, so many things and right slap bang in there was my song.
Here is a link to the songs, the amazing sounds available in 1968. There will never be a year as good or as strong musically as this year ever again. Boundaries were pushed, music was a creative jambalaya of everything available and...go read the list .....

The song to become my watch song, the driving force, the uplifter, the cheerer upperer is

BORN TO BE WILD.................by STEPPENWOLF..and I intend to continue.....

Sue
"Born To Be Wild"

Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Lookin' for adventure
And whatever comes our way
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space..........................................

Making A Little Time

Making time for myself has become a newly found 'habit' one am intending to hang onto. In that small luxury lies the joy of time to read the latest Game of Thrones, view the Tate Gallery on line,discover how much Goa wants the British Tourist back. All sorts of wonderful little bits of information and of course trawling Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, delving into the latest on the Cloud and Crowd funding. Its all there, just waiting for that precious 'me' time.

I am intensely involved in planning the travel route for y Last Great Adventure or LGA as it has become known in my head. To be able to travel through Cornwall, then to Bristol, Southern Wales to see Cardiff and visit St Davids church. To meander through country roads to discover out of the way Stone Cirlces, visit the National Parks, especially the birth place of Stone Henge, the Preseli Hills. I want to visit Waldo's monument again, that great poet of Wales.

I want..... so much.

The joy of this plan, is that I will genuinely be able to do it. To take time to visit Tintagel Castle, walk the shores of little out of the way beaches, trail across various forests, and investigate. Not just a quick peak as if it were a holiday, a good long sojourn. if the research i seek is going to take a month, then a month it will take.
You have no idea how luxurious that feels, to simply think 'yes I can.'

If I want to read my Kindle all day because its cold, wet, whatever the weather, I CAN ! oh that is going to be so good. With absolutely no housework to do, just a quick tidy up of the inside of my car or the luxury of tidying up a camper van, walking the dogs is a pleasure anyway...then Kindle Time ...oh yes ! yes! yes! I am almost hoping for a few days continuous rain just so I can wallow in Rice, J.D. Robb, a little light relief with that wonderfully insightful and incredibly amusing Terry Pratchet and of course, travel books, lots of those. A bag of caramels, a cup of good coffee and a Kindle, two dogs snuggled round my feet and the peace and solitude of my own vehicle..................................great stuff.

The down side is of course that to stay warm in such a manner is going to take fuel, and peaceful non intervention from the local constabulary. Moving me on...would not be a good idea. Little old ladies can be quite the Poisen Dwarf if poked and prodded too much.

All in all, I am beginning to truly look forwards to my adventures. I haven't given up on the idea of raising enough finances to buy a camper van of some sort. I trawled E-Bay earlier and saw several really beautiful vans, way out of my league a good 4 or 5 thousand pounds to buy but, oh the longing I felt at one in particular. *sigh  An Apollo Millenium Ford  Coach Built Transit ...to die for and a snip at less than 6k BUT !!!! I must not become too down hearted. if I am meant to have one, then the good Universe will make sure I have one.

 But the end of the line plan is, if its not possible, I can still use the car as a last resort until the weather changes to better. At which point I will buy a decent tent ( I have one but its a bit tiny) and find a good field and a willing farmer to rent it to me, a month at a time in various places would be good.

So there we have it, another insight as to the workings of my mind. Tonight, after a stint with my server, I shall be designing the all weather gear, and deciding on exactly what it is I want to take with me on this LGA. Should make for a few convoluted  turns.

I need to check out the camping companies for the best resources, Glam Camping sites seem to have some really unusual sources of materials and inventive solutions. I am particularly impressed with the blow up bath so recently launched on the market. Where on earth I could have a bath is another matter, but an intriguing idea never the less. Maybe blow it up and fill it with warm sea water in spring and just lie on the beach away from sudden shark thoughts and wallow in a nice sea bath. Its all possible.

Light At The End of The Tunnel

2007 WALES

The great seas of words which swirled in an uneasy tide waiting to crash on the keyboard shore. The vast lakes of sentences, paragraphs, half written stories with huge depths of creative visualisation wait. Sometimes turgid with anxiousness to be written, sometimes placid in the heat of the days dreams and have finally, with great trepidation, some have been been submitted for review by a reputable Publisher.

There is light at last.That horrible tunnel of boredom and feeling unable to control my world is fading. I submitted one of my books 'Have You Been To The Well Jeanie' at daft of the clock this morning and as soon as I clicked on 'send' I felt the weight of those words and all the others, lift from shoulders like a Chinese Lantern floating up and away into the sky. RELIEF !

I can't stop writing, it has been my escapism,my relief from so many dramatic situations,my enjoyment all of my educated life. On my PC, in a box which has travelled with me through so many different adventures and in my head, words swirl around. Some have been recorded, others wait impatiently to be written. Once committed to some sort of device, paper and on occasion even filmed they stop their ceaseless sounds in my mind. 

I felt no courageous act had been executed by clicking 'send' but it was, in its own way such an act.

Reading myself to myself is one thing, having someone who has no sympathies of friendship, clanship or family connections read your written words is an entirely different sensation.

One discovers a needy thread of query in your mind , 'will they like it', 'is it good enough', what if..... and a thousand demons of insecurities demand your focus, stamp their tiny feet of anxiousness to drum the roll of fear through an otherwise peaceful moment of reflections.

Of course I have no idea how my book will be reviewed, it is no longer something I can control and that is the light I finally discovered at the end of this particular tunnel. After years of reacting to an over controlled past I finally chose, all by myself and of my own free will, to let go. I genuinely cannot control the forthcoming events and I have, for the past 23 years been so controlling of my world, determined to never again be harnessed, enslaved by other peoples needs and desires. That to send my beloved words, the world I created, the characters I grew to love, to hate, to laugh and cry with....to an unknown fate. was cathartic.

I could have only done this seemingly small thing if, within my mind, I had finally grown strong enough to believe in my own security. Trust in my own personal strengths and feel able to deal with critical appraisal without falling into a puddle of dismembered parts. At last, I am truly free.

I never truly understood the term freedom until 3am my time. To do as I have, to release control willingly has only been possible because I have reached that all important crossroads in my life and made my choices. I will take my adventure to its ultimate endings if it is at all humanly possible. To do so, I must surrender the last vestiges of materialism,fiscal and physical security and demand from myself a rigorous and disciplined life style. Despite my plans to meander the roads and highways of Great Britain in my quest for knowledge, for experiences and adventures as yet unformed. I remain fully aware now, since my e mail sending, that today the 25th of September 2015 is the very first moment in over 23 years that I have let something precious to me, something vulnerable and insecure float away on the breeze of another persons understanding of all they read of my work.

Today

I walk taller than I ever have before.

Susan

Will I still love me when I am 64

Its taken me a long time to get to the Crossroads of my world. I've used the highway as a metaphor for years, been sent down slip roads to hell and zoomed off at random roundabouts but this journey. That is 'this' specific journey is the one where I get to draw my own map, make my own choices as to where I stop, stay, drive through.
Its really exciting and also quite a scary moment in my life.

I have never done something 'just' for me, as a planned action. I don't mean the day to day decisions of , do I eat a cream cake, or not and that sort of thing. I mean deciding to completely challenge my life, and actually fulfil a hearts desire and concentrate on my own wants and needs in the teeth of so many obstacles. I have learned to love myself after years of judging myself as 'not worthy'. But will I, once I have executed my plans fully, will I still love me when I have my next birthday. Will I still love me when I am 64.......more to the point, will I still love me when I am 92?

I am letting go of so much, the very things so many people are working towards, a roof over their heads, a solid bank account, a decent job, the responsibilities of paying water rates and electric bills, sky and so on. Its all going, I won't even have a letter box, only a box number or a care of address.

I don't have anyone else to consider really, all my children are in their own world, developing their own lives with their own families and / or friends and heavily involved to their own paths. That is great and wonderful and I am pleased for them. Being in their 40's plus means that truly, I can leave them to 'get on with' whatever they need to get on with. Mum and my Sister are together and happy with that arrangement. I certainly wouldn't fit into any of their lives, two dogs, highly independent and loving loud rock music...doesn't make me an ideal companion in anyone's home :D

My friends call me the Scarlett Pimpernel anyway...so all of that is OK.

No the biggest halt sign is myself. Its the huge big blue one with half a dozen routes marked on it, several roundabouts and a few sets of lights, because just as I am approaching the entry onto the highway of choice...I am having second thoughts and third and fourth thoughts.

The best way I can describe it is I am doubting my own strength and focus. I know this dream has been part of my thoughts for several years, I understand my own nature and I am perfectly aware of my own positives and negatives...basically I am just ever so slightly scared.

Not of the journey itself, or even meeting people and organising it all..I am scared that once I start it, I won't stop. I won't come to an end and discover the home of my dreams with the big piece of land and the ability to grow my own food and all that other stuff, no I am scared that I will like what I am doing so much....I won't want it to stop.

The idea others might join me, might become a Convoy (and thereby lies another story) 5/ 10/ 20 little old ladies, all in camper vans, trailing around the country, a continuous journey of adventures and challenges and .........yes, I rather think that would be a strong likelihood ..... is both facinating and again, scary. But that I might just be 92 and still driving around..........now , as I write it, I am not too sure I AM scared. I think maybe I am scared more that I might dislike my adventure so much I really will settle for the twin set and pearls life with a TV, a cat and a single bed flat in a council block...oh dear,me.

UPDATE

I have moved into a private rent 'for the time being' while I gather more resources, the plan........IS GOING AHEAD !

In fact, I now have two ladies who also want to join in, our convoy of three mobile vehicles of assorted design and capabilities has been discussed agreed on and we are all working towards actually getting out there and having the adventures of our lives, at last.

Walking My Talk

SMJartist aged 63

Being 63 years old is NOT easy in this day and age. What it must have been like in the old days gods alone knows, its difficult enough now in 2015

I have had enough of the expectations of my age , by other generations, defining what, when how and who I am. It is quite true that from here, 63 it is generally speaking ‘all downhill’, the next stop is the pearly gates of whichever heaven or hell (the devil would have black pearls of course) you believe in.
Here I am or rather, there I was! sat thinking ‘ah well’ go sign on a local council list, get the one bed flat in a building full of the damned things, get used to footsteps over my head or music sailing up from beneath my feet, no pets allowed, sit and watch TV all day and feel frustrated for the next thirty years.

Then I rebelled. So what else is new, I’ve been a rebel all my life. Girls don’t do that! was a saying that would have me climbing rocks, racing boys, handstands and cartwheels…’you can’t do that you’re a girl’ had me stealing motorbikes and riding them all over St Helens. ‘You’re too wild’ would have me dance till dawn and fight with males who thought a girl having a drink was a signal for an easy rape.

Oh I did the dance indeed. Then of course it was burn your bra time and from then on, a constant battle to just be the person I am. The ,albeit unwilling, victim of a control freak and not being particularly worldly wise had me make every mistake under the sun when my then husband waltzed off into the sunset with his new and younger female. I went through the rejection phase, the inappropriate replacement males who were just younger versions of him. I did that dance really well, for 7 years I was in a no man’s land of daft choices, unwise and silly moments I wish away every time my memories surface because I see the exes…not that many actually 3 of them, but not for weeks, years of staying in the same cycle…and then I chose to be Celibate…oh wow that was a great move.  

Celibacy gave me space, time and processing moments and friends, lots of real and genuine friends. Announcing my celibacy to my close friends had at first the opposite effect I had hope for. Seeing full grown men and women rolling round on the floor laughing is not ‘quite’ what I expected The presentation of a large black plastic ‘replacement’ for my birthday by well-meaning friends was to say the least the very last birthday gift I expected. My son catching a nap on my bed and discovering it under the pillow is another memory I could do without too (though I must admit I’m grinning at that one).

All in all, by the time my friends discovered that I truly meant to become celibate, it opened a new world up. Men who took me for a meal, knew that’s all that was involved. Women friends no longer tried fixing me up with a date, OH THE RELIEF, it was possibly one of the best few years of my life. I had a ball.

My favourite memory is having a bottle of lager with The Lord of The Night, a man whose name was lost in the years he had adopted to dress and act like his namesake, he was a great joker, a really nice guy and gave me a fantastic evening’s entertainment. Everyone and I do mean everyone just called him Lord it was quite an evening. He named me Lady Silver Swan and all night long I was My Lady (cool actually very addictive)

Then huge changes in my world, the sad loss of my brother, the many adventures, far too many to record here in my swansong to the old life. (Those memories and more are in my journal and my genealogy book) But the changes came and I lived a very different life, then out of the blue came Pete. He’s a great guy, totally loves me for being me, doesn’t give a damn that we are years apart in age and yes, he is the ‘toy boy’ though at 38 he objects to the boy bit. He’s been in my life for ten years this year. I don’t want to live with him, he understands perfectly my need to have space and solitude. I really am happy in my own company. Far more than most, edging into the ‘recluse’ arena. We are together permanently, but live in separate domains and that suits us both fine. If I want to get up at 4am and work or paint it isn’t going to upset anyone, if he wants to write music at 2am and play his guitar he can…because we haven’t anyone around to upset Perfect trust also comes into that equation. I trust him implicitly, he is as open as any book could be and for that I am truly grateful.

Not a day goes by that we chat, laugh, joke, moan…whatever it takes, we support each other through difficult moments and we enjoy each other’s company physically when we can. In-between…its perfect. Closeness without claustrophobia, togetherness without strings and halters, chains and weight. Perfick as it could be said.

So, where was I, oh yes:- being this age had expectations to it from all sorts of people in my world. My family perhaps had the thought ‘once she retires she will settle down’, friends didn’t expect that bit, but perhaps they thought I would slow down.

Erm………no

I got antsy and edgy and fed up and frustrated. Luckily for me, a friend stepped in when my ex landlord was playing silly beggars. With no new home in mind and a situation I was very unhappy with developing in the house I had rented my friend said…if you can get here in 24 hours, you can look after my summer house.

Oh like a rocket…..so there. SO currently I am a guest in a beautifully modernised Barn. In the middle of nowhere, with no neighbours, two dogs, 50 acres of wild wood and ancient trees for companions and deer, foxes and a visiting puma for company.

But it isn’t mine. My friend insisted I could live out my years here, it was a generous and kind gesture. One in other circumstances I would be happy to accept, but it isn’t for me. I can’t do here, what I would do to my own land and I can’t relax here as if it were home. The place is kept pristine because it isn’t mine. I found myself acting as if I could expect visitors at any time and that’s not me either. I love to slumph about in my Onsie with my dogs lay across my lap or snuggled in the curve of my arm and watch a good film….usually at 10am in the morning. So not possible when you are a guest. Then again, this place will be sold eventually and when it is, that is when I truly will be homeless in the full sense of the word. Sofa surfing, albeit in luxury here, is not my 'place to rest my head' forever.

That feeling set off the old ‘I am feeling tied down’ and the rest of the negative emotions crawled in to find space in my brain and I have ended up right here, right now, writing it all out and realising that The Last Great Adventure is finally upon me.

Logistically, at my age, new adventures are few and far between. It is true I could settle in a little flat somewhere, it would kill me by inches. I could also go live with the BF and I would kill him by inches. Or else I could stay here and slowly become the fixture and fitting in the barn who is slightly eccentric and has a load of cats, dogs and visiting fauna. None of which is the real me.

The REAL me is an adventurer, a rebel and being 63 isn’t in the calculations beyond the health side of things. I still love the same food, music, dress, art and conversations I loved when I was 16/20/30/40/50. I’ve expanded on those likes and dislikes, I’ve incorporated new ideas and concepts and broadened my outlook, but the core themes remain. Heavy metal music will still see me hit the dance floor with a strut and a bit of head banging. Yes you may laugh…but it’s true and I could probably do a better job than most 20 somethings but it’s not a competition. My point is, the essential me………….never got to BE.

Knowing the inevitable years will accumulate, the health issues will increase, the mobility decrease, the sense of adventure slowly die has put me on my toes, made me really think. The processing was hard. I have so many real issues to contend with, let go of. So I did it. I am not a coward, if I get scared the first thing I do is go and do whatever it is that’s scaring me. I loathe being trapped by emotions or situations, I will always fight back and usually hard and fast. But I got into a welter of emotions for a while and realised I have been sulking for nearly three years now. Issues I cannot alter or resolve had become totally and completely overwhelming and I had thrown it all in the spare room in my brain and slammed the door shut. Well that had me opening the door and sorting out all the crud in my head. Some of it dates back literally years to when I was a teenager. Old resentments and old issues that needed clearing out and destroying. It has not been a pleasant experience. But it’s almost done.

Every cleansing thought, every action has freed me to think a little more clearly about being me, and today the 21^st September 2015 (strangely enough the day my husband left me 23 years ago) is the day I will be reborn into being true to myself.

I WANT an adventure. The Last Great Adventure and I am going to do it. I am saving up for a Camper Van, it has to be big enough to deal with me and my dogs, so a little Volks Wagon won’t do, but I am off into savings mode and have…£50 to start me off.

When I get the Camper Van……..I am going to travel the whole of the United Kingdom, every place I visit I am going to interview people, meet people and do all I can to record various things and experiences. I am going to research my Genealogy and I am going to do it….my way. I have books in my head, great rafts of ideas, art I want to create, pictures I want to take, people I want to meet and gain their experiences and thoughts and interview them, record it, and write it. People are my nemesis and my release from captivity. As long as I can drive away, as long as I can find my own space somewhere, with no people, even if it is a lay bye on the edge of a village. I am okay with meetings and interviews.

I my friends am going to

Walk my Talk.

Tally Ho !