Happy days.

Happy birthday, Dorothy!
Happy birthday, me!
I knew I'd be a writer.
I've known since I was three.
I don't know how I know that,
with memories blocked or lost.
Is that the price we pay for a gift?
Must childhood be the cost?

But happy birthday all the same.
It's not about THAT day.

How I know.

A little girl with curly hair.

In tears. With fears

like mine, as I’d waited to go into the principal’s office.

Other people’s crimes had brought us to this point in time.

Thirty-five years later, I can see why 

it was one of the defining moments in my life.

We transformed a dusty playground 

into a magical place where treasure could be found.

We sat in a fortress of musty books and learned how to travel the world.

We laughed. We imagined. We dreamed.

We wrote long, long letters during the holidays.

We never ran out of things to say.

I can’t remember the exact day

When I let her down and turned away.

I don’t quite remember why or how but it still shames me now.

I don’t know what happened in that time apart.

I don’t know how deeply I might have hurt her heart.

I only know that one day we were friends again. 

She has never once reminded me of this. 

She has never hurt me back or spoken harsh words. 

She can make me wonder if it ever really happened.  

She transforms a polluted city
into a safe place where comfort can be found.
I sit at her dining table and learn about grace. 

We laugh. We imagine. We dream. 
We Like each other on Facebook. 
We never run out of things to say. 

This is how I know she is my best friend.

(for J, written 30/9/12)

Wish brainstorming

Much of my life I've been wary of making wishes: I've always had this secret fear that they'll be granted in horrible ways. Once I even wrote an Enid-Blyton-styled school story with a horrific twist where the girls make wishes and then suffer gory consequences as their wishes come true!

Needless to say, I very rarely wish for anything just in case that happens to me. So on my birthdays, when I'm blowing out those candles, I simply wish for world peace, and can then go about the rest of the year carefree in the knowledge that whether or not my wish comes true, my life will be pretty much the same.

Wait a minute. It just struck me. What if my birthday wishes are what keep alive all these ridiculous wars-to-bring-peace and peace-keeping-forces??!!

Oh well. Maybe this year I'll forego the candles altogether. Or just wish for the largest slice of cake. That should be harmless. I hope.

But let me get to the point: I've just discovered it's not always a bad idea to make a wish. Or even hundreds of wishes. That whole "be careful what you wish for" doesn't always have to be applied.

Just last week, having got a new eye (well a new lens in the same old eye), I've been able to get back to one of my favourite pastimes - googling random stuff. And I came across a website that introduced me to WISH BRAINSTORMING.

Of late, I'd been feeling that my life was stagnating, no sense of direction or fulfilment, just plodding from one day into another as best as I could. So I decided to give it a shot. I got out my notebook and started religiously answering all the questions in the wish brainstorming exercise. I did it over and over, for various areas of my life: career, friends, family, home, health and fitness, financial, fun, relaxation, personal development, spiritual, community/legacy, work, children, romance.

Answering the questions wasn't as easy as I thought, even though all my answers simply had to be wishes. Some made me uncomfortable or sad or angry or regretful. But I decided to stick with it and I'm glad I did because I discovered that the more wishes I scribbled and then prioritised, the clearer my vision got.

I don't know if it was the simple act of getting all my jumbled thoughts about umpteen things down onto paper, or if it was specifically the wish brainstorming exercise. But as I wrote, I began to find myself feeling lighter and clearer. I was decluttering my head! Solutions and understandings were popping into my head to replace the stuff I was pouring out.

After a week of writing and wishing, none of my "problems" have been magically whisked away, but they've been shrunk down to size from the hugely inflated disasters I'd been carrying around in my head. I've been able to let go of some, put others on the back burners, and focus on simple and easy (well, relatively easy) ways to improve my life.

Do I sound like an ad for a self-help book? I can't help it - I'm eating better, feeling better, doing better. And I'm writing again.

So here I am to tell you about my happy find, and share the link with you (click on the highlit words in paragraph 6), so that you can try it out if you feel like it. I'd love to hear how it went for you. I wish you well!

And now I must go explore the possibilities of what horrors might lurk within the largest slice of birthday cake .. and the story that might come out of that.


(edited 15 April 2014)

Plant me a tree!

This year, I turn 42, and I couldn't think of a nicer
birthday present than a garden of trees growing for me around
the world. Over the next year, I hope to find 42 people who
will plant and nurture a tree for me.

Here's what I want you to do:

1. Find me a tree: a sapling of any tree you think appropriate.

2. Next, find me a spot: a space waiting in your garden, perhaps.
Or a neighbourhood corner. Maybe even a large pot for your
balcony (some trees will grow in pots - though not as large
and healthy as those planted in the ground).

3. Take a picture when you plant it, and send me a copy
of the picture, along with a bit of information about the tree -
what tree it is, where you got it and how, why you chose
this particular tree, and anything else you'd like to say.
And in the future, at least once a year, send me a picture
with the tree in it, so that we can all see how it's growing.
You could also send pictures in different seasons, if you like.

4. Look after it for me. Let it grow as long and as strong
as it can, so that there will always be a bit of green for
someone who feels they may never see enough.