I know I’m a bit late but it can’t be helped as I am, exactly like last year, caught up in Dorset, out of Wifi contact with the world and suffering as all junkies suffer when their fix is withheld. This is not good. I remind myself that when space storms ravage the satellitic junk yard above our heads,we will all lose wifi connection. I fear I’m getting rather too reliant on cyberspace for my sense of wellbeing. But a neighbour has taken pity on me and offered me his wifi for an hour so hey, happy new year. Here’s a picture of Eric in Spring to remind us that these dark days WILL evolve into sunshine and irises.
I see that I didn’t do too badly last year, having scaled a wow on the WordPress statometer. That’s good enough for now but I would like in 2011 to encourage a few more comments. I don’t yet feel in any sense part of of a blogging community. I hope that will change this year. For those who took the trouble to encourage me, may I offer a big thank you!
Aunty Mu took a tumble a few weeks ago and fractured her pelvis. At 99 this was a bit of a crisis but being Aunty Mu, she stuck a finger up at the doctor’s suggestion of an Xray and two fingers up to a zimmer frame. My indominable aunty then settled into a far more dangerous frame of mind, informing me that she leaves the back door open so that any passing murderer will come in and put her out of her misery.So I came down to cheer her up. But only ciggies do that now and she can only smoke at the kitchen table after a couple of alarming incidents with falling ash. As her home is built of compacted hay bales, this could be the answer to her prayers. At her age I suppose she is entitled to exit according to her plans, not mine. In the meantime I enjoy being with her in the overgrown remnants of her dreams. Self- sufficiency was all the rage when she settled on this smallholding with a few sheep and a pig or two. When, in time, Time ravaged that dream she refused to budge and by her eighties was no longer able to till the plots. Blackberries then became the fruit du jour with frightening speed, reminding those of us watching how quickly the world could be embraced by weeds and tangles if we stop trying. It now looks like Sleeping Beauty’s castle out there with the Prince (wearing a death mask) hacking his way towards us…both.
Wasn’t it Abba who sang Happy New Year? With the miserable lines,” All the dreams we had are dead, we might as well lay down and die.” Stuff that. I’m full of dreams for 2011. To sail up the coast of Norway into the Arctic Circle, to laugh until I wet myself, to have my teeth whitened, to paint, to have a poem published, to continue building castles in the air, to stop looking for salvation in charity shops.
So I sit on this ragged smallholding above the sea, happily reflecting and avoiding all the noise and banging and frenetic welcoming of the new year. I have a resolution as well as dreams. That is to fully engage in what Martha Lane Fox calls ‘the defining tool of the age’. The internet is apparently not accessed by 21% of women. I don’t intend to be a part of that statistic, whatever it means.
It will help me as I continue to engage with the great mysteries of life. The Universe is sustained by an act of such stupendous creativity it cannot be reduced to words. No, it has to be experienced. So, I will continue in 2011 to be, to connect and to communicate, knowing full well that language creates a straightjacket around the miraculous. What I write here is not the miraculous part; that part takes place in my life. All I do here is tell you about it, so you can start working it into your own life. Dream on I say and have a fullfilling 2011.