JustSayIt

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

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.

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.