shapeshifting

Lunatic

That lunar eclipse turned my brain into Spaghetti Junction last night. No sleep for the inspired. But no clear thoughts either. If I was to write a long (too long) post about my interwoven thought processes right now it would include these threads:

  • Online business coaching is producing multi-levels of clones and if the only business they have is telling other people how to run their business telling people how to run their business, who is actually doing anything? Making anything? Creating anything? I see the need for business coaching and there is some incredibly inspiring, fresh stuff out there but ohmygod sometimes it's like standing in a hall of mirrors. Of course I'm not an entrepreneur and I don't need to read any of it but when it's good, it's good. I like good now. Good's cool. Cloning isn't.
  • Some of us may have no urge to take over the world but we still want to be part of it. We still want to have left some small positive imprint. And look, Bindu has been reading my mind.
  • CaseyCat
  • Being a catalyst for positive change among your immediate circle is a wonderful thing. The common ground you probably share will mean your interpretation of something is more likely to spark change than would the words of someone living an entirely different life. Why throw a whole lot of seeds on stoney ground when you can watch them thrive in your own back garden? I have been inspired to make real change by a number of close friends recently. Even though I've known for years that what they say is true, it took their voice and perspective to bring it home to me.
  • Building an emotional immune system (my kind of parenting).
  • Age ain't nothin' but a number. Voicing my trepidation of turning 50 in two years has made me realise that the number is simply a marker of how long I've been here. It in no way defines who I am while I'm here. I could as easily label myself as having arrived at 09.30 GMT. Who cares right? But I do think that in my mind it signifies an age at which I really should have grown up. And that's what I'm aiming for. Maturity. A smidgeon of wisdom from the many lessons I've lived through. Less manic intensity. Waaaay more serenity (no, not that one). Serenity is what I've always hoped I'd find when I grew up; I guess the unnamed project is a way for me to get there.
  • I love the flavour. I'd forgotten just how much. Next year, now I know to pick before they flower, I'll be harvesting my own.
  • Tasha Beagle has been rehomed bringing my charges down to three. And, with so much less to do now (there were seven dogs when I started, three have been rehomed and one passed away) I'm only going to visit them once a month. I have been given three Tuesdays a month to do something else. That's good.
  • Megan Matthieson
  • Restless. I'm restless. I'm getting that 'throw everything up in the air and see where it lands' feeling. I do not know if or when I'll act on that feeling. I do not know what I'd like to see in that new arrangement. I just have a feeling that there is space for something else. Something outward-facing and important to me. Something real and gritty and true.
  • It may be wrapped in something imagined and shiny but still true.
  • Thursday night is yoga night.
  • The project...it is unnamed.
  • Awesomised conversation and laughter with Susannah at Cafe Lucca. Also, standing at one of the busiest corners in Bath while she pokes her upper arm and shouts,"I mean, what the F*CK is THIS?" much to the amusement of me and many passers-by. @photobird...keeping it real.(N.B. It's perfectly normal triceps, in case you're concerned.)
  • Dreaming of teaching people to fly by firing them out of massive cannons. I tried it, it was AWEsome.

 

 See? Scrambled. Good, but scrambled.

 

x

 

Jun 16, 2011 in Ageing, Blogging, body, Dreams, Evie, Garden, Life, Nature, The Project, Yoga | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBack (0)

The Ninth and Never-ending Life of CaseyCat

CaseyCat CaseyCat is 19 today. I was only 28 when he was born. My sister, now a mother of two strapping boys, was 11 years old.

Together we've lived in five homes and seen many other four-legged loved ones come and go*.

He loves Nellie Bean - theirs is a 14 year friendship - and attempts to be nice to Jackson but neither of them are really feeling it. Jackson was half Casey's size when they first met and still gets his bum swatted as he walks past the cat, but he has good 'cat manners' and they live happily together.

In 1998 Casey was attuned to Reiki and has wonderfully healing paws. I also think it has something to do with his fine age.

He will only eat Whiskas sodding supermeat - chicken flavour - despite my attempts to tempt him with better food.

He loves teeny bits of ice cream and cheese and dog food and was once seen to indulge in some chicken tikka masala (not mine).

He loves flowers and sunshine.

He's scared of the chickens.

He is retired but went out to 'work' for many years, leaving at 8.45, coming home for lunch and then disappearing again until 5.

His miaow never really worked and when he's lonely he howls.

He is my Familiar.

This photo was taken a couple of years ago and now he has freckles of white fur all over his face along with the occasional white whisker - très distingué.

He was once a force to be reckoned with and filled the hearts of neighbouring cats with fear (he was a serious badass who would *chase other cats under moving cars) but age and arthritis took him out of the ring a few years back. Thank goodness.

He is a people-lover who likes nothing better than to rub heads again, again and again.

He had lived eight lives by the time he was about three and of course now he is immortal.

Just looking at this photo makes my heart fair burst with love for him.

If you look in the dictionary under 'awesome' you will find his name.

Happy birthday my CaseyCat. Many, many happy returns. I love you.

 

Mar 11, 2011 in Ageing, Casey Cat, Love, Reiki | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBack (0)

Moult

Feet My chickens - well, the Threadgoodes anyway - are in moult. Feathers are everywhere, making the garden look as if we've had a fox through it. We haven't. Just Mother Nature doing her thang.

The girls are a bit miserable. The changing season has thrown this at them and it's uncomfortable. There are wing and tail feathers wherever you look unless you're looking at a chicken who isn't called Mr Xanthe.

Soon pin feathers will emerge, pushing through and causing discomfort but ultimately, my girls will be beautiful on the outside again.

They are struggling and I understand. My pin feathers are troubling me too.

A C.S. Lewis quote has been doing the rounds on Twitter this week:

"You don't have a Soul. You are a Soul. You have a body."

Sorry C,  but I disagree with that second bit. It's taken me most of 2010 my life to understand it but finally I do. I am my body, my body is me. And frankly it talks a lot more sense than the flibbertigibbet mind I'm so besotted with.

And that's kind of where Shapeshifting is going.


Sep 30, 2010 in Ageing, animal medicine, Blogging, body, Chickens, Life, Nature, Wild | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

past »
My Photo

  • "Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."
    ~ Khalil Gibran