Bean Talking

On occasion, it is desirable to reward yourself with chocolate.

Not obligatory.

If it were obligatory, I’d refuse.

If it were obligatory, I’d find reasons not to eat it.

If it were obligatory, I’d eat celery instead – at a pinch.

After having just scoffed a slab of daughter’s chocolate birthday cake followed by a peppermint Fry’s Cream – because who can drink tea without something? – I’m left mulling over this idiosyncracy.

Try to force me to do something, not a chance in hell.

I’d put the chocolate in the bin first.

Fortunately, no one is forcing me to eat chocolate.

And, bizarrely, because no one is forcing me to eat it, and because I don’t feel obliged to deny myself it either, I don’t feel compelled to scoff it all the time.

I feel, tonight, chocolate, in all its dark splendiferousness, has revealed some wondrous truths about business, politics and the state of the world in general. Not to mention my personal outlook on any notion of diet fads.

Or is that just the cocoa speaking?

 

Freedom’s Place

A few weeks ago, in light of the Paris terrorist attacks, I wanted to get off the world. Make it stop, I was thinking inside myself and out loud. I was crying. I know some of you think of me as a little ray of sunshine most of the time, ever optimistic. And I am. Most of the time. Because I work at it. And, deep down, I am a positive person, with a side order of depressive empathy.

So, a few weeks ago, when I wanted to get off the world I almost shut down this blog. I tried to export all my work to a new site but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I contacted support who got back to me in jig time. But, while I was waiting for them, I opened up a new blog site. There I was going to transfer everything. Start again. Just like I wanted the world to do. Support got back to me, I imported all my writing to save on file to my computer for later export. Who knew it was so easy? But I decided to sleep on it.

And I changed my mind. Woman’s prerogative aside, I had had a rest, a new day had dawned and, with it, fresh hope. It took me a few weeks to get my mojo back. I needed a holiday. But I would have missed writing.

I left the site as it was, name still there, nothing else on it. A fresh place, a free place, a place needing built anew. Just like the world in many ways.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

One of my guests here has enjoyed guesting because her own blog has a definite personna but one that doesn’t reflect the many facets of her. She’s restricted by her online blogging face. And I know she’s not alone. Why else did I want to create a place where I could weep and wail and gnash my teeth without folk thinking I was having a meltdown, going under? I wasn’t. But I did want to go somewhere where no one knew my name or anything about me. A sort of haven, a refuge if you like.

I’m going to let the place go live and anyone who wants to have a place to explore other aspects of their blogging that might not fit on their current creation is more than welcome. There will be no necessity to follow others – everyone has enough to do – there will be no responsibility on the part of facilitators to monitor or schedule, there will be no concern as to who sees, how many followers, what the stats are, any of the bloggy concerns. You can link to your own page. Or not. Up to you.

It will simply be a place where people can be free to be whatever they want to be – in prose, in poetry, in music, in photos, whatever. An experiment in collective creative process.

It will be Freedom’s Place, which is what I called it a few weeks ago when I wanted to get off the world. Please feel free to be an author of any type, creativity, building a new place from scratch.

No racists, homophobes, haters need apply. I’ll delete you. Just like that. But then, I don’t get them here. Just lovely people who may want another place to holiday from time to time.

Think of it as somwhere to have a break. Doing things you may not always do. Writing styles you may never explore otherwise. Maybe you’re a photographer who wants to try poetry. A humorist who wants to get serious. Or a poet who wants to try vlogging (oh that’s me, done that!) You be the judge of what you do on holiday. No one else is judging. Just having a break and letting the tide take where it will. No names, no pack drill.

It’ll be like a kibbutz. Freedom’s Place – A Collective.

Take your old gear with you, hang out, hang about, hang it all.

If you’d like a timeshare, your holiday place for the future, email me at scottishmomus@outlook.com  I’ll fire off an invite to author. And Bob’s your auntie. Booked for when the need arises. Happy holidays.

Be anonymous, go commando, whatever. It’s your holiday home.

 

 

Evermore

And I can hear the rain outside my bedroom window,

Reminding me that Scotland’s here to stay,

In the cooling of the air from humid tension,

Promising archetypal Scottish day

When the showers, so oft bemoaned by many,

Including me, I own, but nevermore,

Wash away the dust, clearing vision,

Nourish hardy tribe from clans of yore.

From the thistle, as an emblem, to the backdrop

Of mountains fit for scaling, this I know,

In the culture of a people lies its mission,

Freedom’s in the heart, so freedom sow.

And so it goes….

The plans changed.

We adapted.

That’s life.

Six became four,

then five,

by technology.

Presence begat

seven.

Two absent by

choice,

circumstance.

Seven embraced nine,

then many.

Growing conversation

included the world,

its entirety,

its meaning,

purpose,

subterfuge,

conspiracies

and realities.

And realities of conspiracies.

 

Gallons of humour.

Tears

of laughter

and understanding.

Hugs and kisses of short farewells

and longer journeys.

Dismissives of maternal worry

enclosed in comprehensive travelogues.

Tickles of

tender teasing,

rude, graphic, enacted

diffusion.

Undiluted,

concentrated

love.

My family.

More growth.

And so it goes.

Freedom

Freedom! he cried,

Or so the film said.

In legends and myths

Our heroes are made.

And they die.

 

By peace and resistance,

Gandhi’s evocation.

In love and by actions,

Recreate nation.

And we live.

 

By power and mistrust,

Dictators’ lips spoke such words.

Vilify, conquer,

Hand to the sword.

And we hate.

 

Love one another

As I have loved you,

Messianic message.

Nothing more true.

And we love.

 

What lives on in legend

And myths we espouse

Are the ideas and concepts

That build each new house.

We create.

 

Freedom, no myth,

For with free will we’re born

Tho’ in life, servitude

Snips until shorn.

But we hope.

 

Hope in our freedom,

A liberty voice,

Our actions, our words,

Heroic choice.

For we are.

Not All Is A Memory

 Photo courtesy of Mark

 

We bathed here

Clothes thrown to boughs

Skinny dipping in the dark

Skin touching undercover of ripples

Calm surface wakened by our arousal

Stretching in the sand

Giggling in the moonlight

Those were the days then

When cares were only for years to come

And eyes sought the others in black holes of midnight

Peaks outlined by starry skies

We loved then freely and with energy that age envies

We love still

Not all is a memory

Egrets To Lions

So falter wings in earthly graven state,

Tarred those feathers; glued by base endeavour.

Transcendence beckons still at heaven’s gate,

Lamentations lost beyond forever.

Deny the lie that floats on surface seen,

While sonar echoes muted far below.

Fowl of seas and all living in between

Cast off the nets, surfactant bubbles blow.

Puddled splashes, a permit to enjoy,

Though shallow’d pools hide relinquished ocean.

Submersion energising; to employ

Depth charge in propulsion, an explosion

To electrify Aurora’s ions.

Aerate atmosphere, egrets to lions.

Coming Out Of The Closet. Courtesy of Suzie.

When I started blogging 7 months ago I was entirely anonymous and felt fairly free in saying pretty much anything. Although I would never identify specific people. Too much of the teacher and private person in me for that.

As time has gone on and I have felt more comfortable within the community and in my writing and strength of feelings on certain subjects I have opened up more about myself but it does give me some concerns.

The more I have revealed of myself the greater the likelihood that I will be discovered and might get into trouble for ‘swearing’ or touching on certain subjects and being identified as a teacher by specific name.

The odd thing is I’m at the point where I don’t give a shit. I’ve been toying with the idea of going for promotion in a particular school and have to make my mind up within the next few days. I then began to think of what impact my blog and posts would have on my prospects and current position if they were connected. And, do you know what? Right at this moment in time I would rather forego promotion and even my job than be shut up.

Now, I’ve just turned 53, Suzie, and you’re just a young thing with your whole career ahead of you so, yes, I would worry more had I been doing this years ago. Now I feel like nothing can shut me up and I need to say what is strong within me. It’s not that I can afford to lose my job. But I feel now that writing and expressing and communication on many levels have become more important and I can’t live another moment, let alone years, not being out here speaking my truths.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think twice about what I post. I review and consider content and ‘flavour’. But, ultimately, I think, see, write and post.

Your post, Suzie, has come at an exact moment of rightness for me because I tonight posted something that was born of an awful day and I thought to myself, ‘Folk won’t like this. Wee Mrs. Sunshine is having an off day.’ But that’s life and it’s real.

You’re real to me, Suzie as are so many of the people I have ‘met’ here. There is a reason why we are blogging. What I am coming to realise is that no matter the blogger, anonymous or otherwise, there is a multitude of people who NEED to communicate to the world. I don’t know all the whys and wherefores of this. But it is a powerfully strong urge and it is important to those doing it. And, I think, to those reading.

It does feel to me like a massive reaching out of hands and minds and souls. People being prepared, even shyly, to open up to others and reveal their truths And, in the process, help each other realise that we are not alone in our experiences and our thoughts and doubts.

There is a world of feeling and understanding and insights to be gained just from the ‘mere’ act of sharing and reading.

I could no more let this go than fly. Although, I do think I can fly anyway. In fact, let me elaborate on that.

I always thought I could fly. Right up until I was in my twenties! If only I could find the way. Then I realised I was being foolish. I stopped believing I could. Although I still wanted to. Now I feel I can again. And that, to me, is writing. If I were to censor too much I would cut my wings. I can’t do that again.

Now I will still do videos ‘incognito’ ‘cos that has as much to do with acting the post as anything else. That and some days I look and feel like shit. And I just want to get the thing done. But, in the immortal words of Meryl Streep, in Mamma Mia!….’for one time and one time only…….

….for those of you who know me a bit and for those of you who know me well or not at all.

My name is Anne-Marie Hurley.

I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, godparent, cousin, teacher, etc, etc, etc. And I am a blogger. Bloggers Anonymous!

But firstly, I am spirit.

Then human.

Then woman.

And if I can’t speak my truths of life as how I see and think and feel then I can’t fly. And I won’t accept that again.

If the teaching profession cannot accept that their teachers are people then it does not deserve to be called education. We all bring ourselves to the job. I am not a pervert. I am not a criminal. But I have thoughts and feelings that I am entitled to express should anyone wish to read them. I will always keep private those things that I feel deserve to be kept thus. Those things I am not privileged to reveal because they concern others and would mar confidences. But, as for the rest, my ‘me-ness’, it’s going out there. Because I will fly freely. I will fall. But, by the rights of all ‘to be’, I will rise again.

I’ve had a shitty day. But now I feel so much better. Thanks, Suzie. YOUR honesty and transparency have convinced me that, for me, right now, there is no other way. Thank you.

 

And, further to the note of honesty, I am, within the next week or so, going to do an award post that ‘honours’ those who speak out on sexuality and sensuality and are unafraid to do so. We deem certain subjects to be taboo. And yet they are part of all of our lives. We may couch our feelings in poems or pictures or stories but we feel and we think and we are. Shame and judgement does not or should not come into it. I’ll get working on that one. I have no idea yet whether the awards given to me may be used for sex and sensuality but I’m pretty sure I can work around that. 🙂

Fairy Wishes

A fairy in my dreams asked me

Had all my dreams come true.

I looked at her and thought a bit

Then said, as I here I do.

 

‘A lot of what I longed for

I have already here,

My family and love around,

A cup of greatest cheer.

 

The other dreams are in my hands,

I hold them carefully,

I treasure them and nourish them

And then I set them free.

 

If dreams they are to be fulfilled

I have to open hands,

Not so I may drop them

But so they can search the lands

 

That I may have to wander,

The plans I have to make,

The effort that I’ll put in place

So these dreams may not prove fake.’

 

She asked me then and offered

Three wishes I would crave,

I thought some more then smiled at her

And answer thus I gave.

 

‘Three would never satisfy

All I hold inside

And most of what I ask for self

Is really for my pride.

 

If three there are then let me ask

For what I already see,

The health of all my family,

That’s enough for me.

 

The second one I pass along

To others for the same,

Renewal in body, spirit, mind.

Then they can play this game

 

‘And what of number three?’ she said,

‘Now think on carefully.’

‘I would wish that others knew, believed,

They’re the change they have to be.’

As One

Strength will lend a voice

Amid noise and confusion.

In weakness, valour may dare.

 

In weakness, valour may dare

Scale mountains, fly freely

While fear still crushes bones.

 

While fear still crushes bones

And innards liquefy,

Fight or flee is chosen.

 

Fight or flee is chosen

Instinctively, unconsciously.

Protection and survival the aim.

 

Protection and survival the aim

Of life – to adapt, change,

Signify and glorify the spirit within.

 

Signify and glorify the spirit within,

Rejoicing in source and unity,

Recognising, in awe, invisible threads that bind.

 

Recognising, in awe, invisible threads that bind,

Drawing one to another, connecting the edges,

Expanding, creating anew the whole.

 

Expanding, creating anew the whole,

Intricately woven and bound,

Harmonised, synchronised, complete.