Let's talk about....

Okay here goes!

Further to your comments on some of my recent posts that it would be interesting for some of us to post on the same subject or theme by design (not too divisive) and read each other's views and perspectives.

So with this in mind, I have thrown this together and thought we could give it a go! These can all be linked together too. Now if you have any ideas for themes, subjects, one word or a phrase, an idea, a thought, a bug bear or anything that takes your fancy for us to discuss, cogitate and ruminate upon. I will collect these and then choose a title for the weeks ahead.

Participate whenever you fancy.Or never!

I will put up Mr Linky after 8pm GMT on a Monday night ready for a Tuesday start and the link will remain on my blog all week for anyone to join in from the Tuesday.

Each week I will give notice of the following week's topic for you to deal with it as you see fit.

Thanks for participating. Enjoy!

Next week's first theme is 'Happiness...'

Rules

1. Add your details to Mr Linky after you have posted your musings to your blog.
2. Add the 'Let's talk about...' image/logo to your post/blog.
3. Add the Link back to the Mr Linky post.
4. Please do check out others' posts and leave a comment as this helps create a tight atmosphere!
5. No word minimum or maximum, just whatever floats your boat!
6. Enjoy yourselves and don't put yourself under any pressure. Join as & when you can!

For the home of 'Let's talk about...' go to Fat, frumpy & Fifty

*THIS MR LINKY IS JUST AN EXAMPLE... I WILL ADD THIS AGAIN FOR REAL NEXT MONDAY NIGHT AFTER 8PM GMT

Our communion of writing

As the stars, sun and moon keep balance with each other, I too feel blanketed in the synergy here that shines its light through this place of writing.

Often times posts appear on the same or similar subject. It constantly amazes me how this happens within this vast land of united creativity.

In my imagination I see us all as a force of fertile overlapping circles. Bridging the gap. A balance between imagination & frustration.

We are in the same space, different place.

Different stories, same tune.

Like minded exchanges. Some challenging thoughts, views to stimulate thought.

Each story, each journey miles apart, but here we confess, unburden, fess up, confide, enlighten, encourage, incite, evoke every emotion.

Friendships made. Stories written. Hands reach out.

Holding on. Breathing deep. A lifeline for some.

A light for the night time. A few words for the day ahead.

Alone, but not lonely.

Though for some, the fear is always in residence,

punching through the darkness,

bravely we walk, hesitant to run.

Hope is always in my pocket,

I can feel it's shape comforting me through the fabric

that is straining with each beat of its heart

and I remember..

hope is stronger than the fear...

the life blood, we cannot live without.

Less restrained. Unburdened. Here we dare to hope. To speak. To write. To breathe deeply within the comfort of friends.

An enigmatic state?

Happiness. Contentment. Joy. Pleasure. These are words we throw around, but I wonder if rarely do we really think about them and mean them? Understand them? Feel them. Is it a matter of subjectivity or perspective. In part I think yes, but I also believe in general terms the measure is the same yardstick of feeling. Of emotion.

Moannie and I were recently talking about the value of these words. Of how we of course aspire and hope. To feel them. The real deal.

We dribble out these words about how happiness is all we want to feel. For ourselves. For our children. For mankind. Humanity. But it is I feel an elusive state . A state of mind that is transitory at best. Not available by request. It does not keep us alive. Though these states do nurture and nourish us. Keep us on track. A carrot to keep us on the road of hope.

I do not believe that happiness is a state of mind. I believe that happiness is a momentary state. More slippery than many its contemporaries. Mithering about the lack of happiness in our lives, like feeling regretful is not purposeful nor is it aspirational. It cannot be brought about by desire. It just happens. It is the purist of emotions. An undiluted mix of pleasure & joy.

Contentment is a state of mind, for me. Attainable. Brick by brick we can build ourselves a warm blanket of contentment, safety and security. It is personal. A matter of perspective.

Joy is an emotion we can experience by recall. Of memory. Sparked by music, a song, a letter, a moment past. We can relive. By choice. At our own request.

Pleasure is immediate. Pleasure is Food. Art. Books. Physical. Family. Breathing life. Different pleasures for us all. Pleasure can be cultivated. Seeded. Ploughed and harvested. Replanted. Bought or home grown. Borrowed. Bought. Given away.

A droplet of contentment, a rash of happiness, a storm of joy, a blanket of good fortune or a flush of pleasure.

I wonder which state do you yearn for?

moment by moment.

AUTHORBLOG - David McMahon

So sad to read today that our friend and mentor David McMahon is leaving blogland to concentrate on other projects.

He inspired and encouraged me and so many others, in our writing and photographic ambitions.

Here is his 'Last Post' , in his typical one liner fashion and HERE is the link to his REDbubble showcase.

I will carry on posting not so secretly hoping that David is lurking in the ether!

David I loved walking a while in your company. Thank you for everything!

Missing you already David! XX

Sit & watch or jump in?

we sit on the periphery...
the main performance is fear....
we take steps and begin a journey that we are not always able to attend....
we anticipate and enjoy the planning but sometimes the road is too steep and we are ill prepared...
we live learning about our limitations...

we are not limitless ...

the boundaries are there for a reason and we shift and break them, then run back to their safety...

often I just want to sit on the sidelines and watch, people watching, watching life before my eyes...

it takes my breath away, the fragility of it, one moment it's here, the next it is in danger...

I have met some very brave women here, they speak to me directly it seems, through their writing...

I am ashamed of my vulnerabilities, my fears, my inability to live life bravely..

I forget that this is it, life, and that it isn't a rehearsal, and time is always passing...

I stand in awe at my friends' bravery, their will, their strength...

I yearn that I too, can find the hope, to jump in wholeheartedly

and join the show that is the NOW

A Star is Born

This leaked preview of Susan Boyle's first single Wild Horses

- it's a Rolling Stones track from the 70's -

is from her debut album released 23 November,

it is mesmeric and her voice so sharp and powerful.

I cannot stop playing it!

She will perform this in the final of America's got Talent

Susan was recently featured in Harpers Bazaar -

Us edition and here she is looking just lovely.

It's a roll over!

In the weekend papers, I was gobsmacked to read about the escalating furore caused by this image. It was first published in Glamour magazine US edition.

This is model Lizzi Miller, she is a uk size 12. She is smaller than the average uk woman of a size 16, yet to the amazement seemingly of many journalists, fashion or otherwise, it has been necessary for them to write column miles about her little tummy roll, stretch marks and thighs! Most women don't have wash board tummy's nor do they cultivate muscle mass, but hey, I dare you lean forward and not have some bit of fat lean ahead of you. Be it tummy(s) or chin(s).

I recently went underwear shopping in M&S and took some lovely silk two pieces to the fitting room, I was so alarmed by my three rolls of tummy fat, I took a photo with my mobile camera to serve as an incentive to drop a few pounds in the next few months. Seeing this image reminded me to only drop one dress size and not go mad. After all Larry has never complained calling my curves, 'womanly' and 'real'! But it's about what I feel comfortable with and I would be comfortable with just the one roll!

I think Ms Miller looks Fab, womanly and gorgeous, who wants to get up close and personal with a bag of bones? Bring on the revolution. Bring on the real women.

Flashback

This morning I was transported back in time...

to a time when, love hearts, tops of the pops,

the Saturday night disco and boys,

ruled my teenage heart.

(Not much has changed there then, except TOTP is no longer)

When l was a child and throughout my teen years

each and every Saturday morning, I would lie awake, listening, waiting

until the papers would arrive through the front door

and land with a satisfactory sounding SpLaT!! on the hall floor

I would rush downstairs and collect the papers

and rifle through the sections until I found my

weekly magazine and my siblings' comics.

These would then be distributed to said siblings' bedrooms

and this, I would hazard a guess meant that my parents got some much valued THEM time.

So each Saturday depending on which phase I was suffering,

either my Fab208, Bunty, Diana, Disco 45, or a Jackie mag arrived.

It was my sanity and I'm thinking now, 36 years later, their bribery.

So this morning as I bent to pick up Larry's Guardian

staring up at me was a copy of a old Jackie mag...

I smiled remembering way back when...

when I thought I had troubles. Pah I didn't know I was born!

Sniff, sniff, snort!

My daughter came home from school & work yesterday late afternoon and went straight to bed, feeling crap. Today I got a call at work from Larry, to tell me he had to go through the NHS procedures and that she has every symptom on their list. No doctor calls, no visit allowed to the surgery. Larry was given a ref # and was sent to a designated chemist as her flu buddy. He came home with swabs, literature and Tamiflu for our tall girl. She is still in bed as I type, with clean sheets, some soup inside her and drugged up for the night ahead. A temp of 102, aches, pains, sore throat, tiredness, sore throat, runny nose, cough and upset tummy....so far!

240 pupils at her school of 1200 were sent home yesterday and over 100 had swabs taken. She thinks the sharing of their water bottles may not have helped! Kids eh?

Orange Red Friday?

As I was getting into my car yesterday I was surrounded by fluttering butterflies.

I slowly grabbed my phone and waited for them to land.

The Painted Lady butterflies seemed to be attracted by the colourful Pyracantha bush

with its fire orange berries and by the decaying plums,

left unpicked on the overhang of our neighbours tree

(I have since been told they are Red Admiral's!?)

I had meant to ask them if I could pick them as they were bursting with ripeness two weeks ago. I did pick a few that were hanging my side out of sight of their eyes. Naughty!!

Now I wish I had picked more as it appears they are not admired or appreciated my the neighbours at all. The butterflies are obviously very pleased.

I counted nine in all!

As I drove away from the house, I spotted the changing leaves

on the Japanese Maple in our road side garden, so I backed up and shot these

... then on the way home I saw this neat little cottage with a real red door. Love it.

and a blood red Begonia after the rain.

Visit MamaGeek and Cecily, creators of Photo Story Friday.

It's September...

and I can smell the change in the air. The wind has an edge to it, cutting into the end of August.

The new month when school is back. A new term. The kids and life is structured again. A semblance of control within the loosely organised chaos.

When I was a school kid, I looked forward to the new school year. Each new term. The new start. The wiping of the slate and the turning over of the leaves. I felt I had another chance to do it well. To do good. As an adult I miss the having of new beginnings. I have to forgive and forget myself. We all tend to ring in the changes at New Year. A celebration which always leaves me cold. Cold as the winter. Too bracing to embrace the new.

Autumn is a time when the trees wear a brightly coloured coat of an orange, brown, yellow and gold mosaic. A dream coat. They drop their technicolour leaves. Divesting of the year long journey. They stand naked and vulnerable in the wind and rain. A rebirth. Renewal. Reinvention. In the humdrum of routine. The monotony of the familiar. The everyday.

Welcome the opportunity in our life of adulthood, to do better with each and every new day.