Posts

Wonderland on this rock

Image
Walking along the scenic Maltese countryside , inhaling sharply the salt in the air coming all the way from the Mediterranean sea and letting the crisp, fresh air awaken my face and senses. And for a moment allowing myself to consciously forget the world around me. Will I succeed? The wind is blowing furiously, of Wuthering Heights and of Jane Eyre.    My sister walking well ahead of me as I try to capture a good scene.    And I am transported to the times of the Brontë sisters - but how lucky I am to be wearing comfortable clothing and trainers. Having no worries of having one of my many skirts tear up! Then there are these pesky flies whizzing relentlessly in my ears, making my hair and clothes their home while I fervently try to whip my hair to steer the annoying pests away, but to no avail. how incredibly stubborn are they?! I glimpse a soul or two whilst keeping a healthy social distance.  Fearful to tread too close; fearful of You-Know-Who ; fearful of
Post a Comment
Read more

Corona

Jotted down some reflections: Whilst the world is in limbo, and the collective psyche is adjusting to this new reality with our survival instincts alive and kicking, I cannot help but be reminded of a theory called the butterfly effect; that a mere flutter of a butterfly’s wings can cause the whirling of a tornado on the other side of the world - that small changes lead to large-scale effects. It is a reminder that you matter; that each one of your actions matter and influences others. Mother nature is forcing us to be in limbo; a place of uncertainty, lack of control, and of no change. Most of us are anxious, scared, and experiencing mixed feelings. It is forcing us to experience these same emotions that persons with mental health experience; the physically sick; caregivers with family members who are ill; asylum-seekers... This has reminded me of the following quote “When an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside, as fate” Jung. We are forced to be empathic.
Post a Comment
Read more

Poems : Footprints

Footprints When loved ones die, They return to us in the most unexpected of places. Through the scent of orange blossom, The melody of times shared together long forgotten, And the quiet, humid breeze on a Midsummer's night - whilst eating ice-cream and tutti frutti. This is what makes their memory unforgettable; their spirit guiding us to be ever so quiveringly alive.
Post a Comment
Read more

Stages of Dementia

Early: I am scared. Whom will I become? What shall I remember? Whom shall I forget? Middle: I am confused Who am I? Where am I? Who are these strange people? What am I doing here? Late: "She is lost."
Post a Comment
Read more

The Paradoxical Life

Image
There comes a moment in life when your world suddenly makes sense. When you can suddenly breathe in, savour  the colours, embrace your senses and sing a little too. The inertia which would have engulfed your days, months, years, nearly eternity finally stand still in a moment. The past finally dissolves to a new understanding, to clarity from the mist and ultimately to a whole new meaning in life. All in a moment. Mine was when I understood ‘paradox’ in my life. I have had well – a very paradoxical life with its complexities. To play it safe read: love learning hate studying. Sounds familiar? There are other examples which probably ring true to you too: “The more connected we get, the more isolated we feel.” (Think internet) Or: ” The only certainty is that nothing is ever certain.” (*soundtrack of Sound of Music* What will tomorrow bring? I wonder..). Then there are the cruel ones that tear at the heartstrings until the strings rip apart and bleed if touched. Fo
Post a Comment
Read more

Children of the Slums

Image
Imagine waking up on a filthy, uneven floor -  light coming solely through the flimsy wooden wall. Imagine trudging through the mud barefoot -  mud merged with remnants of God knows who. Imagine breathing in thick layers of sooty dust - the colors sullen, lifeless and dull. Imagine smelling the scent of faeces and decay,  of diseases and of death every single day. Imagine your belly gurgling with hunger and distraught,  sniffing glue - the only way to delude. Imagine walking on rickety bridges - a step amiss and drown you will in these murky watery ditches.  Imagine wearing the same old rags - all tattered and torn,  being beaten and battered, no rights of which to call your own.  Imagine having silly daydreams of going to school but there's not a penny to spare - not even for a worn-out book. But alas, imagine no more for such children exist, with ghosts clouding their starry dreams And death hanging heavy upon their tiny, little feet. .
Post a Comment
Read more

Finding Neverland

Image
I've realised I've been sucked up in a whirlpool. I've been sucked up in routines and I’m drowning – but not yet, not quite. I've been slacking a little (so much for making the most of each day - what a joke) my brain doesn't feel fresh anymore. It feels as if it's rotting; decomposing. Please brain please stop feeling dull... Also please stop feeling emotionally drained. I work with children. Despite the ups and downs I absolutely love them. I absolutely love the vibes children send off – their innocence and their curiosity, their merry laughter and their playfulness. I feel that I can forget all of my woes, and that somehow I’m a child again. In all honesty, I still consider myself a child at times and I  don't want to ever grow up. I want to be the female version of Peter Pan. Still looking for my own Neverland however. Help? Enough rambling. But yes, I need to somehow sort out my life, my mind, my room and my files (not the fli
2 comments
Read more