Worn in the Torn ...

the flight mode nearly literally... the steadfastly atonement of a tormented time in struggles ...with the constant flow of reminders ... 

Thy world in thine

.. post crisis mess of muddle. Thy totally and absolutely absorbed in the de...clutter and de...clutter ... ... ironically now in the season of spring cleaning ...... following the festive countdowns and New Year resolutions  ... of which I did not partake in as such! ...

A photo of this absorbing result .... sent to kin to say another cupboard, sorted and ready to pack to move!!! .

Abundantly clear

in the time span ...how it never really fizzles out ... those posts re-read, or not in more dormant corners. 

My mind so befuddled for some of the ideas rocking about in thy head. The fluster in the muster of creativity we all have in forms. The good, the mistakes, the accidents and the stumble upon.  The colour texture that is hiding in my abode too. 

The conflicts making way for some show of life. However small in my observe. The impact to move along from this helping me. The resurrection of resources to find a way through this time. 

The wayward closet we had in a system of overload. I had thought all items of a deceased husband clothing gone in the initial clear. I find in the recesses a few new and old clothing tucked away this week. The opening of doors behind which is clusters from both not touched and stuffed items from those that came in to clear a hoard of time away ... 

About two years worth of bombardment of disbelief of how ill a person actually was. The infrastructure failed of the lack of robustness by a service that is supposed to keep us from harming ourselves, inadvertently too .... not just the obvious .... 

Delightful in homage

this season in time to a now deceased husband ... the beauty of snaking through life with the remnants shifting. The intertwine of delectable dishes in the offing .... the shades of grief in going my own way is magnificent...

The cupboards and nooks and crannies bearing witness to how I live now. A lot may be missing. 

It is odd how many love stories unfold for there are as those who venture, without the constraints of marriage, or relationships. There are many woman I know too who never had the desire to have children. There are those who wanted children and never had them. Those who too lost a parent early, like my daughter. Or a school friend who passed away before she had the chance to settle into family life with her husband. 

The intricacies of the different lives beyond ours. All this time in isolated moments awhile. The step back out and realising so much in vivid detail. The down to earth people. The snobs. The heirachy in a institution I am entering with trepidation... 

It will continue to be an amazing journey out of such dark tragedy, I will find only those with a bond who will understand ... the internal knowledge no one is any different to the other in reality ... 

This is

an aspiring experience, assembling thy array of blogs. Columbia was another new country lighting up the maps, recently. This is a popular blog too.

A journey of keeping on course in my creative way in all moods. I have jostled much with over time. The new update in the way the blogs came up in the timeline was an adjustment, late last year.

The enlightenment of when words flow or not. And how in this time the words that shared beyond my insulated world at times reaches out. They have been requested for funerals and though I do still keep quiet at times with it all. 

I do share wider than one thinks possible ...

The appreciation of much that every unique talent within seeks its way to impact a time shared.

And the little bit of give here and there in this passage of adjusting from total isolation in a while, to the foray back out beyond the walls and ceiling where no night sky was witnessed for a time. A sky delight, tonight for me on a trip outdoors, I still not take for granted. 

The imposed prison that was of another's mind at its worse. 

My amazement at this journey like a child. The giggles. The touch and feel. The running out into the rain and twirling in the first days after a death. And so much more.

The conflicts of laying in the cold beckoning, yet with the fresh smell of air beyond the door was so fascinating to feel, taste and experience again, was one not fully understood 

A function in

replenishing where others do not always see or understand, this December last. 

Under a giant bee ... or wasp the furry or the sting ...

One now hopes the refresh in the same approach, that the services are slow and in repetition with not looking at a long term solution, some of us seek to break the cycle ...

To live in an environment free of restraints, that are invisible of logic ... from the assumptions and now not with the shadows left of another time ... that absolute no one gets ...