Bubble of one.

They said you can travel within the UK. I did. Took a few days off and invited myself to a friend’s place in Aberarth, Wales. Excitedly booked a ticket from London Euston to Aberystwyth via Birmingham and back.

I’ve never had so much space travelling from anywhere to anywhere, ever. It was like moving from one fake film set to another. A story where nothing happens. No one meets anyone. Nothing is exchanged. No conversations are overheard. Even my tickets were not checked. I was truly in a bubble of one. The announcements were made by invisible human voices. Welcome to … but there was no one there. No shoulders brushed. No smiles. No queues at the solitary coffee shop at Euston.

Finding a window seat was no problem as there were at least 30 to pick from. As my train sped out of London, land and sky were revealed. Every now and then I got a glimpse of little streams of water holding a string of multi-coloured narrow boats along their edges. The sun glistened the patchwork of fields. The horizon was a long horizontal line interrupted only by thickets and vertical carpets of green.

Townships appeared with colourful children’s play-areas crying out for children. Don’t know why I tried to log on to the Train Wi-Fi but they wanted me to agree to a multitude of things which was the perfect excuse to put the laptop away and simply enjoy the ride. Branches burgeoning with white, pink and yellowish-green life, embellished the pliable black skeletons of trees, dancing to the tune of spring. Spring, the upward thrust of sap through roots and trunks to the fulsome tips of cold branches.

Nowhere to buy a bottle of water at the normally chaotic Birmingham International Airport Station. No noise other than the oh-too-loud announcements. Toilets, the cleanest they’ve ever been, on and off the train. From one desolate platform to another, I changed to a country train with 2 carriages meandering through gentle hills and fields towards the sea, stopping at places I’d never heard of before – Y Trallwng, Drenewydd and so on. I felt my fists loosen to receive this new freshness.

The next 3 hours were a dream. Ewes tailed by their cute little lambs scattered on both sides of the rail track. Lamb ears sticking out of their heads at a jaunty angle and their tails wiggling with joy! Clear waters mirrored the dance of life all around. Green slopes rose and fell in a soft rhythm. And I was here. My eyes were dry and my heart open. I clearly witnessed the fresh air and bright sun work their magic.

A few years back I had believed the season would never change. It would forever be autumn. But it has changed. It really has.

Ode to Fall

Spring falls

leaving traces behind  

on every leaf.

Leaves fall

As if in love

with the ground.

Trees

Display their skeletons

For Halloween.

Standing bereft

Pretending

To celebrate.

A curtain once green

Now a crunching

crispness

Beneath my feet.

Moon falls.

Full no more.

Light falls at

Slanting angles

Turning everything

to gold.

Apples fall

Fill the air with honey.

Acorns fall

All over the pavements.

Each one

A possible tree.

Crack. Crush. Crush.

Pumpkins sit

Outside every door.

Toothy smiles

To match the kids.

Kids fall.

Whimper.

Get up and go.

A season for cuddles.

For magical beauty

And transformation.

Night falls.

Love, let go.

Grow, let go.

Ms Autumn

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(‘Autumn’ by Frances Macdonald)

Three weeks ago I had an almighty fall while mindlessly running on an uneven pavement for a bus. I didn’t have to run. I had plenty of time. One second I was vertical and the next, face down, splayed on the side of the road. My hand-bag flew off to the left and my laptop case to the right. In my shock, I stood up like an automaton, gathered my stuff and carried on. The thing that hurt more than my pride was the nailbed of my right little finger. There was some red on it too. Both my knees screamed out. The nearly new jeans from USA bore no traces of a nasty fall but the skin on those knees was definitely open. And, the right elbow… and the left.

Over the next few days I lost my very personal diary which was luckily found in the ‘ladies’ of the office I had visited in Birmingham and kindly returned. I left my shopping bag at the Pharmacy where I was picking up dressings for the old knees. I put bottles of milk and apple juice back in the fridge without screwing the caps on and so on … Am I loosing my mind?

Is the Universe trying to tell me something?
Slow down.
Slow right down.
It’s time to prepare for the stillness of winter.
To face the darkness within and prepare for the birth of light.
A time to let go, like the trees, silently celebrating colours before denuding themselves.

Orange, maroon, ocher, burgundy, terracotta, yellow, red.

One flower-like leaf being let go, after another, until they’re all gone.
Time to witness and breathe in the splendorous grand finale before the end of this cycle. Acknowledge abundance as my natural state of being.

Passively let good things happen, like the mulching, crisping leaves under my feet make the soil more fertile.
To be one with the magic of this season.
Become Ms Autumn.

9 days to go.

Why? How did we get here?
Why us? How can this be?
Why him? Such a sweet child!

How did it feel to be him at that point?
How did it get that bad?
Why could no one see it?
How could I be so blind to his pain?
Did he try to tell me in code?
Could I not hear his cryptic messages? Why?
Did he hide it? Was he trying to protect me?
Were there clues I missed?
How could all this be happening straight in my line of vision?

Is this a crazy practical joke? Fake news?
Could I just go back and rearrange events like my dressing table?
Did he tell anyone else? His friends? His hair-dresser?

Why did he say nothing to me?
Did he not trust me enough?
Did he think I loved him too much to bear hearing those words?
Did he think I loved him too little?
Did he think I wouldn’t understand? Would I have understood?
Would I have freaked out?

Did he think I’d be better off without him?
Did he have any idea how wrong that could be?

Was it a choice or a complete lack of choice?

How bad was his pain? How unbearable?
I want to stand where he stood.
I want to see what he saw.
I want to feel what he felt.
I want to experience what he experienced.
I want to go back there. NOW!!!

How much love does it take to keep someone alive? Why was mine not enough?

The annual festival of my beastly treacherous demons has begun.
Thank you Autumn.

Opposite of speed

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Breathing with awareness, walking with mindfulness, meditating with heart-fullness and intense silence with loving-kindness.

As if life switched from super-fast to ultraslow. Placing the right bare foot gently on wet grass. Bristly softness tingles. First the heel, then the outer edge of the foot. Some green tips manage to tickle the arch. Then the toes grasp hold of the ground. I am aware of tiny bits of the sole between toes and foot which never come in contact with anything. So cool! The entire sole buzzes like a guitar.

An aeroplane whirrs in the sky. Ears catch the Doppler effect. Fluffy shapes in white, blue and grey traipse the space above. Birds make jest. The wind continues to waltz with trees. Eyes watch life sprouting in seemingly dead places. The Being notices the breath.

The left foot lifts off the ground, preparing itself for the excitement of landing. Toes go first. They rub noses with the green tips before plunging in. The ball of the foot descends and the rest of the foot follows. It feels different. The heel hits the grass abruptly. The ground is uneven, not warm, not cold. It oozes the love of Mother Earth. Dew-drops cushion the impact. The green of the grass is a conglomeration. At least 6 different types of tiny foliage lining the ground, masquerading as one. Yellow flowers standing up on tender green stems dot the lush carpet. Some of them are being visited by bees. This luxurious texture invites the right foot back. It’s moving in slow-motion mid-air, presently at the top of an imaginary semi-circle. I put the breaks on and halt its progress as much as I can without falling over. It follows through the curve and makes contact with the earth one milli-meter at a time.

Flowing eastern movements of ‘Swimming dragons’, ‘Cloud hands’ and ‘Lions playing with a ball’ (Qigong) bring into balance the Yin and Yang. The more I slow down, the deeper I immerse in the ‘Now’. I actively deflect all adjectives. I don’t want to call it good or bad or silly or slow. It’s just walking. The rustle of leaves is just falling into my ears, the cool breeze is just brushing across my face, a few yellowed leaves are just falling off trees like twinkling stars descending from the skies. Everything just is.

Never before have I experienced walking in this way. To think that I have been walking all my life! I feel I could walk all around the world for the rest of my life.

Three years ago, at this time of year Saagar was really ill. For many years before that, autumn was my favourite season. Then it was my least favourite. Now it’s just early autumn. Another roll of the dice of time.

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