Kindness

I was just telling my mother about seeing Joanna to return the Ladybird book (see last posting). Joanna had expressed to me how kind she had always found my mother, all those years ago when we lived close by. My mother tonight expressed further warm memories regarding Joanna and told how Joanna had dug up four rose bushes from her garden and brought them down to us one Christmas morning as a gift; one each. I recall them planted in the small front garden in front of the bay window of our rented ground floor flat. In the telling came over a warmth and humanity I have failed to convey above.

Throwing stuff out

Yesterday I did some serious 'life laundry' going through loads of financial paper work stuff; tax, pensions and 'investments'. I say 'investments', note the quotation marks; at the moment it all seems worth slightly less than it cost to buy! I've been putting off a proper sort through a heap of pension statement stuff for years; just shoving each incomprehensible piece of correspondence to the end of a pile in a carrier bag. I hate all that stuff. They all say the same; '...this is what you might get [but it's any ones guess if you will]... markets... up... down...' Basically this correspondence is not worth the paper it's written on except it is required to comply with the rules to 'protect' the industry... Ugh. Eventually I reduced it all down to the latest statements etc and after throwing out all the original bumf the pile comes down to a few sheets. Quite satisfying! Moving on with this in to other papers; redundant instruction manuals, school certificates, old training course notes etc., etc., I have the thought, particularly when looking through stuff that the inland revenue might ask me to reproduce, that a self, a history is at least as real as all this! One can't just bin it all; the tax man will have his way, I do need to keep P11D and P60 forms, he may yet send an other tax return! But also a sense of the redundant; past financial projections, forgotten manuals for equipment which has been thrown away... Life now moved on from then. A mix then between junk, and the 'reality' of earning a living and keeping the tax man happy.

Then on a more human level an old school photo and and old Ladybird book about electricity. I recall how things seemed for me when that photo was taken and I don't think it's just projection that I can see it in the eyes of the little kid; uncertainty. I looked in the book, it used to be my favorite, I loved anything to do with electricity, inside is written 'To David, love from Joanna. 1973' I would have been six years old. Joanna is the mother of a school class mate and she is still alive; I decided to return the book to her so she could reconnect with giving it.

Today I looked at the book, the school picture and the now tidied financial stuff and I could feel little David having traveled that journey from six to forty three; clear inner child connection. What a lovely light in the world and all of us have such light. And I recall this post and having returned once more from Cluny I again find that I miss it or rather the the rhythms of life and the people there.

What to do?

I've been back in Newcastle for over a week now and I am still missing Cluny. A few potential work leads come up but very little. How do I feel about work? I need to be involved and doing but when I look at the job descriptions and think of what it is likely to be like... my heart sinks. I am seriously drawn to a long term commitment to the Findhorn community. Am I really thinking this? Me!? Can I find a job and build a life here that feels fulfilling? Going to live in community throws away a lot. Separating out fantasy, desire and deep longing is not easy.

Despite all this I am ok. I'll give the work thing here a bit longer and if nothing resolves then the time may yet come to go and live in community for awhile.

Reviewing posts I see a certain flavor over the past year or so coming through. I am not sure if this reflects the full story of my life over that time, more the parts that seemed 'blogable' and even then often the posts are highly condensed, telegraphic in nature. It's often just using the post to see if the words feel true; true enough to stand for the whole web to see.