a moment in blog

i have a reader!...

a quick moment to apologize to all those friends,family and loved ones who through love, loyalty or perhaps even because of my oft repeated question ... "have you read my blog today?" tend to read every word i write. thank you all, i love you all, i appreciate you all!

but hey man! i am talking a stranger here and not just any old stranger. a fellow blogger, a wicked writer, a tenacious talent! 'nuff said... i am well pleased!

today nikki and i were discussing magical thinking whilst enjoying a double, double chocolate muffin of extraordinary size. nikki, who has a real brain and "knows stuff" mentioned that psychologically speaking ... magical thinking is, omg wait for it, delusional thinking! of course even though she has a brain and "knows stuff" nikki is still my daughter and a master in the art of magical thinking. with my mouth still half full of chocolaty muffin, i replied "hmmm, yep, i suppose one could say that blog writing is a kind of magical thinking, in that i blog away under the illusion that "people" are reading me"

dear world ...the magic works, people read us and enjoy us, we read them and enjoy them. i was never a poet who expected to be published, i write for my own pleasure. today i am a blogger and i am read!

nomad on the move

nomad on the move

home from the farm, home again, in less than sunny saltcoats.always a lovely feeling to open my own front door and be surrounded by the familiar. not for long though ... i have given notice of my intention to vacate the premises on the 9th november.
sometimes, a little reality must enter ... even into the life of a magical thinker!

fact - i have had zero success in finding a job.

fact - money is needed to pay rent, electricity, gas and council tax...not to mention phone bills, tv licence, bank fees, sky and broadband!

fact- i have absolutely no driving need to work. if i lived in the real world i might feel slightly embarrassed to admit this. luckily for me...i am me and i live in my world.

fact-i need to be available to help nikki when she needs me.helping to take care of the other kids when young liam has to spend time in hospital.

so, i had a small problem, fortunately for me, adam and michelle had recently purchased a mobile home/ static van which they intended to use as offices. sensing their mom's somewhat unenviable position, they offered me the use of said home/van!

must admit i am excited, my new place has the most beautiful views, it is tucked behind the barn and byre offering privacy and some protection from the howling winds of winter! once "connected" my van will have electricity, gas heating, running water and flushing toilets!a right civilized wee house ... bodacious ;-)

my mom (aka moving minnie) must be so proud of me! my continued pursuit of the nomadic life ... a tribute to her love of the wandering lifestyle. is there a "keep moving" gene?

earth connection

this week i am baby sitting the farm. yep ... sounds pretty grand i know. to be honest north ballaird is, i suppose, more of a smallholding. thirty three acres of of beautiful ayrshire countryside. our neighbour wm of south ballaird leases thirty acres which he uses to graze his cows and sheep.

so you might ask, what or who, am i babysitting. elijah, staffordshire terrier of excellent breeding! used to the good life, enjoys sleeping on a bed and resting on leather couches ...always willing to rough it in the local kennels but prefers the comforts of home....
cleo (oriental) and josiah (siamese), have the look of poncy city cats, used to be poncy city cats, but now.... oh no....
in actual fact, killing machines, hell bent in ridding the farm of every living creature.

the view from the farm is spectacular, we look out over the firth of clyde, views of ireland, the mull of kintyre and my personal favourite ailsa craig ...an island/volcanic plug, once mined for her granite which was used to manufacture curling stones. now she has no human inhabitants and is a protected sanctuary for wild birds. all in all, a fairly delicious place to be baby sitting.
a most excellent retreat, far from the madding crown.

of course, for a master communicator such as myself ... the lack of fellow homo sapiens with whom to interact is a slight drawback. after a while i tend to indulge in deeply meaningful conversations with the local cows.

i am here for a week, a quiet time, to think, to breath and to remember my earth connection.

scudding

"clouds scudding by", wonder who invented the word scudding and why. what were they doing at the time? were they standing on a hill or a beach or a plain....
was an autumn wind blowing, whispering of winter...
did they look up at the sky and see the clouds moving swiftly on their monumental way and think...
look at those clouds scudding by!

answers.com tells me the word possibly originates from scut, middle english, meaning rabbit's tail. now, the word starts to make sense, white, fluffy and fast moving. now here, now gone. perhaps he/she was out and about, hunting rabbits..
glanced up at the sky, the clouds brought to mind the fast disappearing white, fluffy tail of his/her prey.

the noun scut has one meaning, "a short erect tail as that of a hare, rabbit, deer".

scut n. informal means "routine or tedious work often viewed as menial" short for scutwork. look up scutwork and lo and behold scut means worthless person, perhaps from scout...

enough already, a person could be at this all day. following the trail from one word to another. the history of language...fascinating.

http://www.answers.com/topic/scud?cat=technology

http://www.answers.com/scudding

http://www.answers.com/topic/scut

thoughts

where do thoughts go
when they disappear
escape through the nose?
crawl out of the ear?

one minute you have them
and then they are gone
best catch them quick
they don't stay for long

a thought is a flash
a spark in the brain
brought on by emotions
by questions and pain

i know what i know
i need what i think
yet sometimes it's gone
in a flash or a blink

like a rabbit it's there
such a beautiful sight
then it's off down a hole
like a bunny in flight

should i follow, like alice
or just let it go
was it good was it great
and will i ever know

a thought can be good
and oft times quite bad
sometimes it is brilliant
which makes us so glad

but, grab it, embrace it
while it is still there
for thoughts are elusive
and great ones are rare

All materials Copyright © 2004-2007 by Eryll Oellermann

the tale of a toe

it was the 28th of july. the day before i was due to leave new york, dunkin' donuts, japanese buffet,two cats, giant oak trees and herself. i was on the internet acquiring an aisle seat on my british airways flight.

the room and the computer belong to my muse (she who was safely tucked away at work at that moment in time). it is an interesting room ... a desk piled high with books and papers, sweet wrappers and the odd vitamin capsule. the walls are lined with books reflecting her work, her research, her catholic interests. a scratch pole for the cats, next to the window, enabling them to gaze out onto the street below and lust after the birds and squirrels which inhabit the tree in front of the house. to the side of the house a great oak tree leans one of it's branches against the roof of the room. on windy new york days it groans and squeals, an interesting cacophony of sound, designed to strike horror into the mind of one who believes houses should be built of brick. has no one in the states heard the story of the three little pigs and the wicked wolf?

the room also contains two ironing boards, the original ironing board, which now serves as a resting place for papers, cameras, coat hangers and cats and the new ironing board... intended for use in an ironing sense. anyway, it was the original ironing board which caused the problem! the smallest toe of my left foot connected with the leg of said ironing board. uhuh! and as we say back home eina!! (a word usually shouted with intense feeling, meaning ...ouch...only more so).

the day before i was due to fly home to scotland, i broke my little toe...again. seems to me that particular toe has a deep need for space, periods of separation from the sibling toes, perhaps some deep primal need to be something more ....
whilst in dreadful pain and agony, i was not fazed... i have broken a fair number of toes in my life and i know how to handle them. it is only a matter of taping the offending digit to the next whole and unbroken toe. then you wait until the body performs her magic and knits the broken bones together. this process may take quite a while and one is bound to experience a number of ouch moments before the healing process is complete.

ok ... so this is old news, why am i regaling you with this particular story right now? there is always a reason....
two nights ago, i was standing in my little kitchen, dishing up huge platefuls of food for my beloved grandchildren (little brother is in hospital for a week of tests and mom is staying with him). i was happy and content, feeding my loved ones is always a bonus.the next minute, with absolutely no warning, the front piece of the units drawer, separated from the unit and crashed down onto... you guessed it ... my newly healed small toe. of course it crushed the two toes next in line as well, but for some reason the pain in the little one was ... hmmm, much worse!

now, there are a couple of fairly obvious rules when it comes to dealing with the offspring of one's children. show no fear and try not to curse. so when, in response to the crash in the kitchen...four rather worried young faces appeared...
my mind was screaming "omg! now all of my toes are broken" while my body continued to dish up their dinner, somewhat in the way of super nanna!

as it turns out, there were no broken toes, merely bruised and blue, turning to purple. the poor little... previously broken...small toe...
is indeed severely traumatized. swollen and stiff, but whole.
i live in a rented house...the important question is ... should i sue?

all she has to do

all she has to do

she called i folded
god i'm weak
all she has to do
is speak
why her why me
why here why now
love just is
no matter how
we're up we're down
now on now off
sometimes the peak
sometimes the trough
we mostly laugh
we sometimes fight
we bitch we cry
i hold her tight
she's charming witty
and she's clever
i guess our love
will last forever....

finding my centre

i hasten to grieve, to mourn
to kneel before the open grave
of less than, now lost forever
i await the pain, the gasping breath
the run river tears of yesterday
where now the wretched, clenching pain
the empty echo of a heart removed
i probe with fingers of the mind
to find the anger and the pain
the hurt of rejection in finality
i search, i seek, i do not find
the tears and sorrow of love lost
long seeped away in futile wishing
pain and anger exhausted from before
the dream long turned to dust
now i survive and seek my centre
my peace in a material world
no more the weary weight of less than
to rest on shoulders ill equiped
i breathe, breathe deep and full
remembering again to love myself
i am still me, no longer lost
in my lover's dream, free now to soar
above, beyond, to search, to seek
to find the other, the other unafraid
the knowing who will heal my wolf

All materials Copyright © 2004-2007 by Eryll Oellermann

sometimes love is not enough

sometimes love is not enough

my muse no longer finds me amusing...
and i quote ... "you are a hook in my flesh"

i am deeply influenced by the experiences of my childhood and the essential wisdom of my parents. in our home there was a small carved plaque which read ... "never give up, God is faithful". i believe in pursuing my dreams, in fighting for what i believe in, i believe in love and forgiveness and doing my best. i believe in courage and conviction, in honour and truth.
it is now time to admit the absolute truth to myself ... i believe when two people find one another, when they chance across a soul mate and fall in love ...
i believe they should live together, in order to cherish and sustain life's most precious commodity, love.
it is time to call "time".
time to admit to myself and the world that i have pursued this dream for long enough. time to admit that love is not always enough and that it is perfectly possible to love someone and yet make that person thoroughly miserable.

and so ... i offer my love, my muse, an irish blessing...


An Old Irish Blessing
"May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand."

the small wee hours

what is it with me and 3.30am? my penchant for awaking at this somewhat unsocial hour ... baffles me. not that my nocturnal habit causes me any real inconvenience. i am fortunate in that i do not work away from home and this helpful circumstance allows me the freedom to wake and roam ... whenever! the precision of the timing is what interests me. why 3.30? makes no difference what time i fall asleep ... early, late... 3.30 is still the witching hour.

can't help but wonder ... is there more to this than meets the eye.

so there i was, this very early morning ... drinking coffee and having a smoke on my kitchen steps. yeah... i smoke outside. keeps the house smelling sweet and believe me .... in winter it cuts down the number of cigarettes i use. unusually, our scottish sky was crystal clear, not a cloud to be seen and the heavens lay bright and beautiful for my observation.we lead such very busy lives, how often do we have the time to gaze up and out and wonder at the glory of our night sky. perhaps my 3.30 awakenings are a gift from the universe. a quiet time, while my neighbours inhabit the realm of sleep and dreams.

the value of time

the value of time

my muse and i were chatting on one of our numerous international calls. we were discussing our plans for the day...her day, only starting in new york and my day, half done in saltcoats.

this afternoon at around three we have ... more world cup rugby! today south africa plays samoa and as a dedicated fan of the springboks, this girl is unavailable... let no man or woman come between me and the manne in green and gold as they battle the samoan warriors!

my muse and i agreed that i would give her a call once the game was over. herself was well pleased that i had become so well attuned to "the american way" and the fact that i was able to conquer my inborn south africaness and put my own wants and needs above the importance of good manners. (yeah, well..what can i say...americans are crazy!) "i am so pleased" she said "that you are recognizing the value of your time".

ding! now that started me thinking...
the starlings are gathering, the instinct to flock drawing them together in ever increasing numbers. the familiar sound, the beat of their collective wings against the air ... a portent of the arrival of autumn. it is time ... time for them to leave our ayrshire hills, time to fly south before the misery of our scottish winter arrives.

time ... we are all born with a possibly predestined amount in our own personal time piggy bank. how we use it, is up to us. we have our allowance, once we realize we are not immortal, we learn to value that which is ours.
there are two things which i value most in life, love and time. time is the coin we use to purchase those things we need or desire. we spend time growing into adulthood, we allow time for our education, we expend our time on working, in order to clothe, feed and care for our bodies. time allows us to grow and mature, time allows us to learn to love.

if you have ever looked death in the eye and survived... then you will know, you will have learned the lesson, you will have understood. time is our most valuable asset, we are unable to buy more, no way can we trade for it. time is as it is.. a limited special offer.
learn to use it wisely and well, remember the obvious truth... we can always work harder, make more money ...until our time runs out. spend your treasure wisely, spend it with those you love and appreciate. when my time runs out will i be holding the hand of someone i love, will they reach out and caress my face as i prepare to leave on the journey into the unkown... or will i lie there alone, congratulating myself on a healthy bank balance and a well balanced portfolio.

value your time and spend it wisely with those you love. anyone can be busy, the art of life lies in our ability to appreciate.how many minutes, hours, days between now and then. how long is our timeline, we never know until we draw our last breath.

when the words aren't there

what does a writer do in the absence of words? me... i wait. in some way i have always felt more like a word funnel than the originator of my work. my mind fills with thoughts, words, rhyme and rhythm. my creativity was never a well into which i could lower a bucket and draw up inspiration.more of a spring, bubbling up and filling my mind. i could never ignore the words, my mind would grow full of them ...no choice, but to write.

sometimes the spring just dries up. weeks may pass without even a hint of desire to write. i still pace and smoke, my mind as empty as a slate left out in the rain. i might choose to sit at my computer, i might even open a new page and write a title. sometimes i even manage a sentence, a paragraph ... but these are my words, they require thought and attention. to write them is work. they are not the copious outpourings which bubble from the fountainhead.

i have spent most of my adult life ... not writing. marriage, children, a home to make and maintain. cat fights, dog fights, overflowing geysers and parktown prawns. the small daily dramas, the mostly uneventful contentment of the suburban housewife. more than enough to hold the words at bay.
poets ... so "they" say are usually depressed and miserable souls, howling at the moon. driven to write by our under lying sense of desperation. aye, they might be right at that, the good life, the sweet path, enough prozac to make the world seem reasonable. in my case, calm and contentment will seldom lead to inspiration.

so ... i wait. i wait for the thoughts to flow, i wait for the words to pound away in my mind, demanding to be written. writing is not work, writing is a release. an unstoppable outpouring.