Share Your World: 30 April 2018

Do you use paper money? If so, is your money arranged sequentially according to denomination?

Yes, and yes. In several different types of currency collections throughout the house. I have variously English money (for where I live now), Scottish money (for when I visit family in Scotland), Euros (for when we visit Europe) and American money (for when we visit my husband’s family in America). All arranged facing the same way (face up, right way round) and in sequence from highest to lowest denomination. Oh, and at work I get really annoyed when people don’t place the notes tidily in the till drawer – face up, the right way round, in sequential order…  Control freak? Me? Nahhh…!

Are you comfortable doing nothing? For long stretches of time?

That depends on what you consider ‘doing nothing’. Resting is resting, day-dreaming is day-dreaming, meditating is meditating, thinking quietly is thinking quietly, waiting is waiting. All valuable passive ‘activities’ I take part in from time to time as necessary 🙂

What is your greatest strength?

Um… the ability to do nothing for long stretches of time?

What did you appreciate or what made you smile this past week?

Thinking about my grandchildren ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

Share Your World: 30 April 2018

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Shakespeare’s Sonnets

Would it astonish you if I told you I love reading Shakespeare?

We studied both Macbeth and Hamlet in depth in school, and I absolutely loved it. I loved the rhythm and the cadence and the historical humanity of it all. Learn how the old-fashioned language works, learn to read it as if out loud and suddenly the story comes alive in your imagination, in your head, and in your heart.

I love many of Shakespeare’s sonnets, too – I love the simple emotion with which he writes, pouring his passion on to the page. As with all poetry, interpretation is in the eye of the beholder, not just the poet. I read into it what I choose, what resonates most with me, regardless of how others may view it.

My favourite is probably sonnet 27:

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travail tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired.
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see.
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Four hundred-odd years ago, a man wrote eloquently about the total restlessness of being in love, of feeling so besotted with missing someone he cares for but is apart from that he can’t seem to sleep at night however tired he is after a hard day’s work. That a modern man (or a modern woman like me for that matter) might so easily relate to that same unsettled sleepless feeling today in times of separation, albeit in slightly less poetic language – to me that’s what’s most astonishing! 🙂

Finger Painted Photoshop Flower MkII

fake-flower

Playing about some more with finger-painting in Photoshop – another fun fantasty flower from my imagination. I’m finding it really relaxing to mess about with, so be prepared to be inundated with multiple experimental digital images for the next while 🙂

Emotional Eloquence

I wish I could just say how I feel. Open my mouth and find a straightforward seam of sensation flowing finely into sound with satisfying linguistic logic. Unfortunately, such emotional eloquence eludes me. Instead I struggle with making sense of the melting-pot of malevolent mood simmering silently beneath the surface of my mind.

Here I am half way through my fifty-fifth year of life, still unable to give voice to the agonies of anger I feel fermenting in my veins, coursing and cursing and creating havoc in my heart. It hurts to hold it all in, all that painful passion turning to pure poison. It pierces my soul and sends enemy armies of septic spores seeping strategically under my skin.

Sometimes I just want to scream it all out in an unstoppable exorcism of ecstacy, rip right through the reasoned reserve and fracture the feminine facade that frustrates my feelings so. But instead of throwing the kind of tantrum more commonly associated with toddlers and teenagers I carefully and considerately keep my own counsel, quell and quieten my rage, swallow down the unpalatable unpleasantness and although it leaves me feeling sick to my stomach, sigh heavily and stay shackled to my shameful silence…

Daily Prompt: Tantrum

Rivulets of Thought

I’m having one of those confusing days when I’m questioning why I’m even writing a blog, why I persevere in sharing a little piece of my very ordinary life online every now and then? Is there a proper purpose underlying my very public pondering, or is it more a vein of personal vanity running through my multiple musings month on month?

It’s as though I have all these little rivulets of thought constantly drip, drip dripping out of my head with nowhere particular to go. Some of these random thoughts coalesce with enough creativity to make it onto the page, onto the screen, and ultimately find themselves posted on my blog for posterity, while others simply evaporate into empty nothingness…

Daily Prompt: Rivulet