my sad old thoughts

Hello!
Its one of those nights where i find myself reminiscing and looking back at where i’ve been. If i were given the chance i would still be an avid sailor, but sadly thats not how my life is panning out — at least right now. And it sure as hell wont if i live in the panhandle of Texas one day. But i made it happen at one point in my life because it was something i desperately wanted for myself — i needed it. I got my certificates and i can read a chart like a boss. Through sailing i found freedom and a best friend. So, even though it maybe now be years ago… i never shall forget, how precious those moments will forever be to me. When Pat is long gone — how precious he is and will always be to me.
Realistically, i don’t know when i will ever get back to England. The prices go up and up for plane tickets.
And i’ll be honest. My heart aches at the thought that i may never see my old shipmate again. It would be a blow that will wound me for the rest of my life, but i also know it’s very likely. If it happens, which given the distance and how years roll on without us, it probably will. Just as my family will slowly disappear from my mind as quickly as they will from my life.
There is a truth they never tell you about moving away from home to an entirely different world. 4000miles may as well be a million miles. A skype call can’t fix loneliness — it can only cover the wound for a few minutes.

I just put a favourite old clip to a song we really loved to sing to. It was a beautiful sun down and we were in the middle of the islands in the Bristol Channel. Over the waters where we raced, danced to sea shanties and laughed. Just me, Pat and the boat that sailed us anywhere. There have been many nights, many trips but i’ll always wish for at least one more. Many stories about pirates and treasure, Nelson and the Victory. So many stories since that go somewhat unshared.
I like to make little clips of my life to remind myself that i HAVE lived. I HAVE been there and i HAVE done that. And its ok to be where i am now, even if its hard to see whats in store for me. I know a lot of us probably worry about where we should be and what needs to be done by certain ages. I battle with it often, and its hard having moved from country to country and feeling REALLY “behind.” Where we are now, is where we need to be. No matter how challenging or painful. How beautiful and magic. The important thing is we are living and we can change anything and everything — we just have to dream it, and make it happen.

After all, as Walt Disney said, “if you can dream it, you can do it.”
And we can most definitely do it. Can’t we?

 

a valentines diner

Well, the special day of cheap chocolates, paper flowers and uncomfortably staged romantic meals is over. I don’t really believe in valentines day personally. It’s all about money and women getting bent out of shape over the guy not doing something insanely imaginative, proposing or they’re just sour over being single.
So, instead of buying into that bullhickey  Jack and i just enjoyed each others company in a vintage diner over bacon and eggs, then lived in the now and did whatever the hell we wanted. Just spending time with him is all i need. What a gift it is to be on the outside of society.
Happy Regular Friday.

Coffee + Juice.
The finest coffee beans.
A mountain of pancakes.
My dream Valentine.
Bacon is good for the soul.

a navajo pipe

It hasn’t been the best few weeks for me. I’ve felt stuck in a hole where the walls crumbled and fell as i tried to climb out. I almost stopped bothering to clutch at another clump of soil, because it felt pointless. As you know by my last post we took a trip to Indian Head mountain — the most beautiful mountain in New England. We visited a stored before we started on the journey home. I filtered through the cheap trinkets, the badly printed “been there — done that” t-shirts and the air reeked of stale incense from years of neglect. The store was filled with frivolous moose clutter clumps and offensive smelling scented candles from the underground version of Yankee candle. As i turned a corner from the copper folded post cards, on an old wooden rack was a pipe. In the midst of this shop of tourist horrors was a little native-made section of tribal treasures. And all i could see was this blue glass beaded pipe hung in buckskin and leather. I held it in my hands, i ran my fingers over the horse hair and duck feathers. It was a lot of money, and i don’t like to spend money when there are so many practical things that need to be taken care of. Reluctantly i hung the pipe back and carried on. I looked at the answer feathers, leather braid wraps, real silver jewellery and medicine wheels; but i kept going back to the pipe. It was as if this pipe had something to tell me, a secret to whisper to me that only we could hear. It was stirring a willingness in me. To be strong. To be silent. To keep going. To keep watching the sunrise and the moon sleep. To keep writing. To keep watching for those twin black birds that follow me from place to place.

On the way home a dark fog seemed to clear and i could finally see the stars again. I hung my pipe by my bedside that night, next to my sand tile from the Navajo tribe in Nevada, and it was the first deep slumber i’ve had in weeks without ill feeling. Without getting up to look for Basil or waking every few minutes to be sure it was true that he was gone. Without wishing i’d hear my grandfather laughing in the corner. I just slept. And my soul slept. There was no loss and no guilt, that could wake me. This pipe is precious to me already. Like an old friend returned. It awoke the old raven in me who was losing its mind to memories and bad thoughts. The raven was desperate to fly again, and would rip open its cage if i didn’t let it out.
I don’t have to grasp for soil when i have wings.

Some things just speak to you. Feel you. Understand you. And you belong to each other. And this Navajo pipe, though its not its traditional use, has brought me inner peace by just existing.
Glass beads, duck feathers, buckskin, leather and an arrow head.
Indian Head Mountain.

My pipe is made by a first nations artist of the Navajo tribe, please only purchase Native-Made products and never native inspired.

vlog 3

I wasn’t really in the mood for vlogging because i wasn’t sure what to talk about, but i really wanted to vlog anyway as i hadn’t posted a video for a while… and i’m somewhat worried i might “fall out of the habit” so to speak. However, this video took a bit of a funny turn. Don’t you think?
I’d really like to get away from vlogging only in my bedroom, but its not easy when your neighbour sounds like they’re fucking an elephant with a lawn mower upstairs. So for now this is my only option.
I hope you all enjoy!