Temporary solutions...

Today I have managed to get on line and am posting some older blog entries.  I will try and do this every few days and though not ideal, is one way of keeping the connection to myself and my writing.

10 August 2010

The Internet is not working in my house AGAIN.  I cannot tell you how infuriating I find this.  I pay money every month to a crap organisation in order for them to do this one small thing in return.  It’s not rocket science.  It’s not beyond the reach of man to get my server working reliably.

Of course, the frustration is increasingly growing since I can’t find out the temperature in Bordeaux and therefore cannot pack, I can’t get a comparison web site to tell me where to get the cheapest car insurance and most importantly, I cannot write my blog.

Many months ago when this happened we vowed to change providers and of course, in the way of the Harris household, we didn’t and we stayed with the one we had.  Apathy rules here at number 12.  I can’t blame anyone since I am as responsible for this state of affairs as is Ralph, but damn, I do want to heap blame in another direction.

It turns out the internet is fine (you can all breathe a sigh of universal relief).  It’s some piece of internal Harris household equipment that’s on the blink.  It will eventually get fixed, but not now.

11 August 2010

The continuing saga of the missing shoe…

I spent today clearing the rest of the stuff all over my room. Boy, was this a labour of something other than love.  I moved boxes, sorted out clothes, paired up shoes, discarded old magazines and finally, finally, can see the floor on my side of the bed. 

Suddenly the room seems enormous! It reminds me of an old story I heard years ago:

There once was a man who lived in a one-room farmhouse with his wife and four children.  As the children grew and became more and more boisterous, the man found it almost intolerable to live in such a crowded environment.  He decided to seek the advice of the village rabbi, a renowned sage.

The rabbi listened to the man’s tale of woe, stroked his beard and thought, and finally pronounced that the man should bring five chickens into the house.  The man was puzzled but vowed to do what the rabbi said.

After a week the man came back.  ‘It’s worse than ever, I can hardly move and now we have all these chickens underfoot.’

The rabbi thought for a moment and told the man to bring the goat into the house now.

Off went the man and brought the goat into the house.  It wasn’t long, only a few days, before the man was back, bemoaning the horrid state of his house. ‘The noise, the smells, the crowding, it’s unbearable.’

The rabbi ordered him to immediately bring the cow into the house.  Off went the man and with a matter of days was back in tears, unable to stand the increasingly crowded house. ‘It’s terrible, I can’t bear it anymore’.

‘Now get rid of the chickens, the goat and the cow’, the rabbi ordered.  The man ran home and ejected the chickens, the goat and the cow from his house.  Immediately he ran back to the rabbi and delightedly announced:

Thank you, thank you, rabbi, my house is so big and there is so much room now’.

Today I began to eject the chickens, goats and cow.  It always makes me laugh when I realise how simple this solution to lack of space is.  I also discovered that I do not, as previously thought, own so many pairs of shoes.  The number of shoes I have is quite respectable and not something I need feel embarrassed about.

I have given up on the idea that I will ever wear high heels. I tried to wedge my Birkenstock wearing feet into a pair of heels this afternoon and just laughed at the idea that anyone would want to wear something so anatomically wrong.  This is a sign of age, I guess.

So this was how I spent my day, and part of yesterday and the day before.  I am determined to create a Zen space in that room, if I have to work tirelessly and give away most of my belongings.  So far I have filled and given away four huge dustbin liners of clothes, shoes and handbags.  There is more.

I need to mention that we are still having Internet problems.  It is not the provider this time, but probably our air port on the fritz.  This means I will have to try and post things when I can from other computers.  As I am also going away on Friday and am completely unsure of Internet connections, I may not be able to post at all for the next week or so.  I am frustrated and unhappy about this since I have developed an enormous attachment to my daily entries.  I will keep diary notes and take photos so if I can write something I will.

Meanwhile, back to getting rid of the rest of the goats and chickens.

27 August 2010

Such a long blogging gap feels horrible.  I have thought of hundreds of things to say, dozens of philosophical points to raise and for sure, I have forgetten my Nobel prize winning thoughts, but internet problems and other stuff have been in the way and at some point I relaxed and let it go.

Now I am back from France, in routine again.  The sun is not shining, but I actually feel I have had a wonderful injection of sunshine this summer and the rain feels rather comforting and familiar. A great week to be at home.

France was lovely and also a bit uncomfortable.  We stayed with friends and really relaxed and did very little, but the familiarity and overwhelming warmth I feel for my friends in Italy was missing.  Don’t get me wrong, it was a good week away, but as a friend of mine recently  put it ‘there was no magic’ except between Ralph and myself.

This was the biggest wonderful surprise of the summer –how much joy and pleasure I had simply by having time and space with Ralph.  I often surprised myself with how loving I felt and I occasionally surprised him by not being nearly as negative as I usually am.

I often used to wonder where my daughter got her immediate NO from.  As a child she would react with a no, more often than a resounding yes, to most requests.  I actually clearly saw this behaviour in myself this summer a lot more clearly than I usually do. Maybe it was also because I said yes a bit more.  Yes to going up and down hair-raising mountain roads, yes to climbing to the top of an Alp (admittedly most of the journey was in a cable car) and yes to climbing some pretty steep dunes to get to a quiet beach on the Atlantic.  I even said yes to stripping off my clothes on the beach when I didn’t have a bathing suit and said yes to being the only one-breasted woman on the beach that day!  It was a time of surprises for me this summer.

I also saw how scratchy and irritable I get when I don’t get my way and also how judgemental I am when people are not the way I want them to be, especially when they show characteristics I see in myself and don’t like. I also see, once again, how not English I am. The reserve and stiff-upperlipishness of the Brits makes me feel too loud and too out there and sometimes, quite self-conscious. It also makes me feel quite superior in a nasty sort of way.  I absolutely value my sarcastic New York Jewish sharp sense of humour and speed of retort, but sometimes it comes out a bit too waspish and cold.

All of this I saw in a week away.  That, combined with sea, sun, wine, oysters and fantastic days and nights made for quite a value for money week.  I can’t remember the last time I learned so much about myself in such a short time.  Let’s hope some of it sticks.

BIG NEWS – I cleared my room before I went away and I also cleaned and cleared my office this week.  I am on a roll.  I have disposed of so much clothing and so many pairs of shoes and books that Ralph suggested that rather than making endless car journeys to the charity shops, we open a branch right here in my house to save petrol.  I am stunned and delighted with how much work I have been doing to clear the clutter from my space.  It’s almost miraculous and I fully intend to continue the process.  I would like to get to the point where I can see and remember everything I own.  I don’t want to leave my kids to clear up any mess I leave behind.

This week I have also been busy with my health, or sudden absence of it.  I came back from France with a stomach bug – three days or so of pain and dry toast.  Then I injured my back lifting some books and have been resting and taking it very slowly since then.  I feel old and frail this week.  How quickly things change, last week I felt young and vital and this week, I am creeping along very gingerly and slowly and feeling decrepit.  Thankfully things change pretty quickly and my osteopath assures me my back will heal fast.  Since my back surgery ten years ago I hardly think about my back.  It generally doesn’t hurt and as most of the disks in my spine are fused I am in little danger of slipping any, so this latest hiccup feels strange and has created a small panic in me.  My back feels fine, but fragile.

31 August 2010

My back is better and I spent a lovely morning at the V&A museum with Ralph.  Such a cornucopia of delights and my back just about carried me through most of what I wanted to see.

I caught sight of my reflection in a pane of  glass and was shocked to see this squat little old lady looking back at me.  So, I immediately stood up straighter and made an immediate decision to carry myself, not as if I am a burden to myself, but as if I am light and ageless.

I have been reading a lot about aging and see that this state is a very interesting one that can go either way.  I can delight in my new found devil may care attitude that can eat ice cream in public even though I’m fat, and wear bedroom slippers to walk round the corner to pick up the papers, or I can get miserable and crotchety and stuck in routine as so many older folks seem to do.  At least the unhappy ones do this. 

I will wear purple and feathers and sequins as I get older and I will please myself at the same time as maintaining friendships and being a joy to be around.  I will also carry on loving and laughing.  I am entering the ‘best years of my life’ and so far, so good.

I add here a sonnet by Pablo Neruda that  really struck me as beautiful. I am so delighted that there are so many others that can say things I feel in so much better a way.

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."

A new day...

Right now the internet is working just fine.  I feela bit tentative saying that out loud as if I'm tempting the gods of technology to rain hell on me, but I figured I'd risk it to write my daily missive.

I just came back from a walk to the local shops and a sweet little trip to my local library.  What a wondrous thing the library is.  All those books, CDs, DVDs, computers, and reference sources, all there for the taking, all for free.  The institution of the library is much older than I thought and apparently the Romans had declarations on scrolls available free to patrons of the baths to read at their leisure. I love going to this book heaven and today spent a few moments enjoying the three (!) full shelves of books on how to be a writer.  I was tempted to take one out, but I thought I would rather stubbornly stay a complete novice.

In the books on how to write (for the web, for business, for fiction, for memoirs, for speeches, for poetry and for romance novels), there was one section in each on setting yourself a task.  One of the writing tasks one book suggested was to write an essay about someone you really dislike as if they would never read it.  This had me madly giggling and imagining, firstly, who I would write about and secondly, what vitriol I could spew on to a page. In a few short moments I had written in my head, the bitchiest obituary imaginable about a nameless acquaintance.

I also noticed on a nearby shelf books about how to read novels.  What!!!??? How to read... don't you just pick up a book, start at page one and carry on?  Maybe all these years I've been missing something.  I have been an avid reader since I was about eight. Have I been doing it wrong all this time?  Why hasn't anyone told me? Maybe this is why I've never been tempted by the idea of joining a book club (not that I've ever been invited to one, but that's a different blog topic right there).  I can't abide the idea of being directed towards characterisation, plot, or sub-plot by the expectations of others.  I've always seen book clubs as social evenings for people to discuss personal issues under cover of a book cover.  I will entertain the idea that I am wrong in this, but from the outside that's how they seem.

While I was out I was inspired to cook risotto for lunch. My trip to Italy is still fresh in my mind and a TV cookery show last night made my mouth water for a good risotto. My local council has planted big beautiful tubs of flowers and plants at the local clock tower.  I noticed the other day that there were tomatoes and courgettes growing in one of the tubs.  I also noticed that the courgette flowers, wonderful edible delicacies, were just dying on the plants, so today I pinched the flowers for my lunchtime risotto.  I am now officially the flower thief of Crouch End.  Mea culpa, but they did make a lovely risotto garnish and I have to say, this was the absolute best risotto I have ever made.

And so, today it is sunny, I feel good, life is fine and still my wall is cracked, the internet is intermittent and my tooth still needs repairing.  Today I can laugh about all of it.  My risotto was grand and I don't need any books to tell me how to read.

Now to carry on with the character assassination of the person who will never read what I write!

Frustrations abound today!

The Internet is not working in my house AGAIN.  I cannot tell you how infuriating I find this.  I pay money every month to a crap organisation in order for them to do this one small thing in return.  It’s not rocket science.  It’s not beyond the reach of man to get my server working reliably.

Of course, the frustration is increasingly growing since I can’t find out the temperature in Bordeaux and therefore cannot pack, I can’t get a comparison web site to tell me where to get the cheapest car insurance and most importantly, I cannot write my blog.

Many months ago when this happened we vowed to change providers and of course, in the way of the Harris household, we didn’t and we stayed with the one we had.  Apathy rules here at number 12.  I can’t blame anyone since I am as responsible for this state of affairs as is Ralph, but damn, I do want to heap blame in another direction. 

Wait … now it’s working, so I’m dropping everything to write today’s entry.  Why?  I have virtually nothing to say today.  I did not even leave my house all day.  I folded, repaired and tidied piles of clothing and there is more.  I can hardly believe how much stuff I have. This is a disease, an illness.  I have to stop hording.  I am not preparing for the onslaught of who knows what.  There is always more in the shops.  I must learn to resist, but as the Borg said to Captain Picard in last night’s late night movie – resistance is futile.

So where am I now?  I am in clearing mode – two big filled dustbin liners and counting.  I am giving away enough to fill my wardrobes and they are still full.  We are both in clearing mode.  Ralph is in the process of clearing the medicine cupboards.  I even let him throw away my stash of Prozac and various other anti-depressants, finally admitting to myself that it was never much of answer to my winter black hole.  I guess I hung on to the extra three months’ supply in case of depression emergency!

This clearing is actually OK.  It goes on far too long, I sneeze from the dust, but it does have noticeable results.  Right now I am bored with the clearing so I am taking an avoidance break by ironing. 

My aim is to have my room in pristine order by the end of the month, with a break in between to travel through French vineyards and eat great French food with friends.  A Zen paradise is still a pipe dream, but who knows, I might surprise myself.

A late birthday treat

Tired now - spent today in London, first at the NationalTheatre and then a bit of wondow shopping and a good meal.  all this was courtesy of my children. formy birthday this year they wanted me to go out for the day and we finally went out today.

the theatre was interesting. An arresting, well-acted,well-directed play called 'War in Thebes', a modern take on old mythology combined with the tragic events of war in Africa,  Thought provoking and very sad. It pleased me togo to a play that stays with me and gets me to think about the world in a different way.  So much of what I wastch on TV or see in the cinema is gone themoment I turn away from it. Thisplay was our subject of discussion during dinner and was a powerfulexperiennce.


And  now, we're home.  We'vespent the day out, a lovely day.  It's evening and I can feelmu energy waning.  I know there is much to do in preparation of our week inn France and alsoto get our house into some order, but once the sun goes down, I've had it.  I want to sleep, sleep,sleep and sleepsome more.  I love sleeping and the deliciousness of lying in clean sheets as the lethargic sensation of drowsiness overwhemsmeis a wonderful one. 

So, excuse  me while I go and do just that.

The 'Do Over'concept...

I am about to make chicken soup.  It's in response to a request from Ralph, but it's also a wonderful avoidance activity.  Every time I have promised myself (and others) that I am going to do some bit of housework or tidying I have avoided for a while, I have found some other semi-worthwhile activity to delay doing the original, highly disliked activity. So far, this has consisted of ironing and more ironing and even at a pinch, cleaning some windows.  Lately sewing is coming high on the list, but I'm running out of things to repair.

So, to get back to making chicken soup - I know mine is good, but it isn't nearly as good as the memory of my mother's is.  I say that knowing that the memory of it may be much better than the reality of the actual soup.  I have nostalgic moments when I can recall my mother skimming her soup to make sure that there  were no golden globules of fat floating at the top.  Recently I read an article by a Jewish cookery writer in which she remembered her mother's soup and one of the things she mentioned was the yellow drops of fat at the top of the soup.  Yuk - all I can say is she didn't skim enough.  My mother removed that fat from her soup like it was the spawn of Satan and she certainly did make a great pot  of chicken soup.

So today, by way of major procrastination,  I cooked, I went for a walk, I went out to lunch, I did some laundry, I cleared the kitchen, I had two naps, watched my favourite movie and did not clear the junk accumulated over months, if not years, in my bedroom.  Ralph has as his goal to make our room a Zen paradise.  Fine, I say, as long as Zen paradises look like a hermit has lived in it and collected assorted 'chazerei' (yiddish for junk or garbage) for the past 20 years.

I am in danger of just throwing my hands up in horror and resigning myself to throwing everything away.  This is by far the easiest option.  I am such a collector that within a few months I will have replaced most of what I have thrown out and probably never notice the difference.  I exaggerate a bit.  We did make a  start on one corner of the room today and I happily discovered a pair of trousers I had been searching for for months, a box of  old photographs and at least seven handbags.  What??? Seven handbags??? And I didn't even notice I had them,or at least I haven't missed them. This is why I believe I could throw it all  away and not miss much.

The more I explore this idea, the more I like it.  Remember when we were kids and we had fights with our best friends or we lost a game of tag, we asked if we could 'have a do over'? If we could start again?  Sometimes I even do this now, when I have a really pointless argument at home and see that there was no basis for my outrageous behaviour, I will then say, 'let's start this all over again' and we generally have a more congenial conversation.  What if I were to do this with all the things I have accumulated over the years?

I could start by keeping a bare minimum of clothing, one useful handbag, perhaps three or four pairs of shoes and a bit of jewelry.  This would free me from the psycholgical burdens of having more  shoes than I can remember, so many handbags I have nowhere  to store them and more jewelry than most shops stock.  I could throw away all those beautiful scraps of Japanese silk I have collected over the years in case I want to make some major work of art.  I would chuck out all  the Chinese brushes and paints and paper that I hoard in case of artistic inspiration.  Jars of wonderful beads could be disposed of, dreams of necklaces and bracelets to be made jettisoned once and for all.  Photographs spanning my lifetime and those of my parents could be junked to make space for... space.

No, I'm not going to do any of these things.  I am not throwing away my future plans to be creative or my past in the form of photographic memories.  The idea of starting with a clear space is attractive and even sort of possible, but it is not me at all.  I am a collector - of people and things and memories and friendships and recipes and stuff.  It makes me who I am.  Not the things per se, but the collecting and the gathering things in close to me. I love collecting and hunting for interesting stuff all over the world. I like a crowded life.

When I reach the end of my life, I know that I will look back and not for one minute will I regret not having cleared my room.  Afterall, hospitals are Zen spaces and I hate those.  My home is a circus, a carnival and a mad fiesta.  I will clear my space tomorrow, but for now, TV beckons.

By the way, the chicken soup with matzo balls was super.

Sushi for lunch

Really nice day today.  I went shopping with my girlfriend in preparation for her trip away.  We went to a local shopping mall and it was like Sex and the City meets the Golden Girls.  We sure hit the stores with a fervour I haven't seen in either of us in a long time.  Fun!

We went with a fairly long list of things to buy and we were completely successful - new trousers, shoes, pants, tops, and food for dinner.  The gods of shopping would have been proud of us today.  We moved effortlessly from store to store with bags in hand and credit cards waving.

Whilst in one of the stores I had to run interference while my friend tried on three different pairs of trousers in between racks of clothing right on the shop floor - too much trouble to queue up for the changing room.  I was slightly surprised to see this proper, older woman stripping off her trousers in the middle of this shop without a moments concern.  If anyone commented we decided the only answer would be 'no speaka de english'.

Lunch was a lovely treat of sushi sitting at the counter and watching plates of yummy stuff go by.  Everytime I eat sushi I look aroung the restasurants and see loads of tiny little kids.  I enjoy seeing these teenies tuck into sushi and sashimi.  I don't think I had even heard of sushi till I was in my tthirties and then it was only in super-expensive Japanese restaurants. In those early sushi days I always felt uncomfortable with the food and the surroundings so it's really nice to see all these little kids having such unadulterated fun with their food.

While we sat there we noticed a group of young (12 years old) kids enjoying themsleves with bowls of miso soup and sushi.  They started to talk to us and informed us of the free refills of miso soup - they were on their fourth bowls (to the consternation of the wwaitress). Two of the boys told us all about themselves, they had just finished summer camp and this was their first 'good' meal, they belonged to a United synagogue nearby and were studying for their upcoming bar mitzvahs, they were in the mall to buy shoes, etc.  It was quite a sweet and entertaining conversation and for us two old 'cougars' it was a real uplift to have been chatted up by 12 year olds!  We knew we still had what it takes, even if it was bit rusty!

Conversations with strangers sprung up all over the place.  I advised a Greek woman to eat cherries for her gout and another Portuguese woman steered my friend towards the trousers she eventually bought.  We engaged with people all day and had a blast.

Sometimes all it takes for the spirits to be lifted is a successful shopping expedition in the company of a good friend.

Being right...

As an older Jewish woman I take it as my birthright that I will go through life with opinions, judgments and a sense of being right.  I have a point of view about everything, even things I know little about.  This is not so unusual in today's world.  Many people know very little about a lot of things, thanks to the internet, television and the perpetual bombardment of information we live with. I do not necessarily see this state of affairs as positive or negative, it just is.

It's strange how many of the women I know have strong opinions, how many of them perceive themselves as right.  Is this because I surround myself with these strong-willed women, or because we are actually right most, if not all, of the time?  I think it is more likely the former.  I am definitely attrracted to people who have ideas, opinions and a well-defined sense of self.  Most of the time this is a plus.  It makes life's journey more dynamic  and interesting and is  a spur to innovation and creativity, but occasionally I see how fraught this can become.

What to do when the women I know are all right and yet, all have different ideas about the same things, people or places?  I try to see all sides of discussions and hear people out.  I often go away with a third, fourth or even fifth opinion of my own and feel that those are also right.  It makes it difficult to have calm, measured discussions and sometimes makes me feel like I'm stuck in the middle (being right too, of course).

What is the answer to this?  Is it to relate only to men?  Nooooo! Most of the ones I know do not consider themselves always right as much as considering their women friends, partners and relations as always wrong.  What the hell is going on?  If women see themselves as right and men see them as wrong how do we ever have satisfactory balanced relationships?

In the long term none of this matters if all the people I know, whether male or female, see themselves as part of one huge family.  Once we translate all behaviour into familial, it begins to make more sense to me.  Not all of us can be the parents and sometimes we have to be siblings.  In my house, my mother was dominatingly right and my father was passive.  This was unpleasant and did not make for a home where there was any equality.  It meant that my father was often overlooked and ineffective and yet, he was the stronger of the two. Maybe the real answer is to be quietly strong, to know who we are and allow others to be who they are.

After all, we have little choice in this.  The families we have created and the families we were born into ultimately end up in the same sad way if we forget to love each other and don't allow everyone the right to be 'right'.  This is just the way it is, and I'm for sure right on this.

Landing home with a crash...

Home again, home again... there's no place like home... home is where the heart is... home sweet home... Did you ever think about how many expressions there are that encourage us to believe in the magical power of our homes? It seems to me that the concept of home is so important to all of us that we invent a mythical place that will satisfy our hopes and dreams and nourish us when we're down.  Isn't it inevitable that we are often disappointed?

To come home and find that the sheets still need changing, the wall still needs repairing, the plants need watering - all those things are expected and part of the daily fabric of living.  The letdown I feel after a beautiful week away is also inevitable.  Crouch End cannot possibly compete with Italy, either in sunshine, green spaces or food, but at least it is friendly and welcoming.  The guys in the corner shop hugged me hello and the greengrocer said he noticed I'd been away.  These tiny things make the day feel better.

My brother phoned this afternoon and told me my dad was not doing well.  We both know that this latest downturn is not a good thing.  It really does feel so tough to be this far away and yet, what to do?  Do I get on a plane tomorrow and go to see my dad?  Do I stay and wait?  These are the things I've been busy with today.  I've looked at many different possibilities and have pretty much decided to adopt a watch and wait, but on high alert, sort of strategy.

The precariousness of my father's situation has sent me into major turmoil.  My holiday mood evaporated in an instant and I've been prickly and preoccupied all day.  I am trying to stay balanced and remember how peaceful last week was.  It does help that I'm feeling healthy and strong.

Do I go away next week to France?  Not sure yet and have decided to play things day by day.  This actually fits in with my inability to make plans anyway, so I'll continue to wait and see.

The Alps seem a lifetime away.  Even my tan is fading...

Looking back at my week away...

Arriving home this evening I looked around at the airport, the train home and the surrounding streets.  I tried to find the beauty in the small shops and crowded pavements and it was certainly difficult.  The familiar has a comforting quality, in the way that old worn slippers feel like family, but the familiar does not have enough beauty for me to want to immediatelyslip into it and forget my past week.

It is inconceivable to me that 48 hours ago I stood 1600 feet up in the Alps looking at snow-capped mountains and pine covered hills.  It is equally hard to look back to just a few days ago and remember the views of the lakes and mountains and forests - the stillness and the clarity wiped all my worries away in a matter of moments.  I forgot about the bills, the insurance renewals, the dental appointments and cracks in my walls.  Indeed, I really didn't remember those things until I pushed my way through a week's worth of post blocking my front door.

I cannot begin to express how graciously and lovingly I felt we were hosted in this wonderful community called Gautama.  Our friends were open and generous with their time and their hospitality.  They shlepped us around from town to town, from gelati place to pizza restaurant, from mountain top to lake, without a word of complaint.  It could not have been more perfect.  The weather cooperated and the sun shone every day.

Nice for me was meeting old and now new friends.  I felt that Ralph and I were wrapped in the arms of the community and adopted as family.  I learned new recipes and tried to share some of mine.  We laughed together and sometimes even cried together.  The intimacy of friendship was so nourishing and helped me to be more open and brave.

Now I am very tired and tomorrow will write more and post photos of my splendid journey. Even if the walls are cracked and the vistas are not particularly inspiring, it is also  good to be home.

Paradise lost...

Tomorrow we leave Italy and go back to what seems like the very far away big city. I realised yesterday, sitting quietly looking across the sweep of the alpine mountains and the lake below that I have been living in an environment where I don't even have to close my eyes to find meditation. The world of nature comes to me here and I really can just relax.

Yesterday we went up in a cable car to the top of a mountain in nearby Switzerland. From there we continued to climb.until we reached the apex. Just breathing and looking around was wonderful. I felt unconcerned and unencumbered by fears,anxieties or any uncertainty. The only overwhelming thing was the beauty of the world.

I have to stop and allow myself to feel courageous too. This environment has challenged me. The mountain roads, the high climbs, the car journeys have often been things I have said no to. I could last week have imagined myself waiting at a cafe whilst my friends went up the mountain. Yesterday there was no hesitation - I wouldn't have missed out on such a wonderful experience. Coming back from a fantastic meal last night (zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta, osso bucco and panna cotta with too much nice wine)I had not a twinge of anxiety over the mountain road. Who is this new brave woman I see?

So today is still another day to relax and be here. I know this much, I will leave here rated, revived, with friendship in my heart and longing to return, but meanwhile I still have today.