Little Bobby

Tonight I found another picture of you

My Sweetheart Bobby, the happy times of Summer 

on New Years Eve 2023

I miss you and all your little 'monkey' friends.

 

Blessings, joy and love, Bee xo  
 

My First Picture Of You

In May 2005, your erstwhile parents

were sitting in the front row of your funeral,

and keen to hear my thoughts.

My eulogy for you, as I was your only friend.

 

Nothing was composed

but everything was peaceful and true to you,

as your hidden, tender self was seen by me.

  

Part of the eulogy: 

He was the love of my life

after I met him in my health food shop.

He was shy and somewhat eccentric.

My first picture of him

was a man in his mid thirties,

tall and very lean, in his pink jeans,

wild hair, and I did not know his name.

 

It was Christmas week,

when he wanted a bunch of watercress,

to make a special meal for his family.

He had searched all the shops for this ingredient.

 

I said I know where to find it.

So I shut the shop door, 

went for a walk and showed him some,

growing in the flowing park creek.

He was so joyful, he jumped in to pick it,

in his good pink jeans and leather boots. 

Such fun!

 

And the synchronicity here 

was his father, who in all his years,

was never kind or emotionally present,

was suddenly in tears.

Realizing how hard his son

had tried to show his love.

And the watercress

was seen as a blessing, 20 years later.

And light graced that morning.

Sometimes the beginning, comes at the end.

  

And this is an odd way to say:

My walking a stranger to the local creek,

had a way of making a treasured memory.

 

Photo credit: Yes it is for real!

Australian Geographic Journal, May 29, 2024 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

  

Sweet Lovely Lovely

Here today, in the last days of autumn,

and hopefully continuing along the way,

to add from my heart,

how good things can be sad,

and sadness is healing,

and essentially,

Helping, is "helping lift inner joy".

And my inner joy

comes with 'Helping Strangers'

and indeed, Strangers helping me,

or helping anyone. 

 

Briefly, 3 or 4 months ago,

I walked up to 2 strangers in the Main street,

and asked them 

if I may pat the black greyhound,

and the pretty whippet.

And in that short street stop,

I had exchanged names and phone numbers 

on the back of an envelope.

I soon went on to be, a safe interim place,

to help newly retired greyhounds, 

to be in a quiet home space 

and slowly go on to be re-homed,

and be loved for their gentleness, 

and for me, sensitivity and loyalty.  

 

This week, the hound I call My Lovely, 

was formally welcomed to a comfortable home.

And yes, as an animal empath,

I felt joy and sorrow.

And I know that Greyhounds listen,

and we were tuned, 

to hear quiet whispering together. 

So it was all a healing time for both of us.

The Little Helper

The Helper - archetype - following on

from what I just wrote -

"Let me be the helper I will always be".

 

Why is this me?

What was I told? What do I see? 

Where was I when I was asked?

to be that one, to lift that past?

To shine my little torch under the floor,

and see a 'lake'

under the kitchen table!!

To see a concrete wall under the extension!

where no air can flow

under the old wooden floor!!

When someone built walls to hold up roofs

that leaked rainfall to old tree roots

buried under the old cottage.

But we cannot live on a false foundation.

 

The 'lake' came down from the dairy up the grassy hill.

The ducks were in the garden

but the damp, dripping wet slab 

was under the bed, and the cupboards,

under the tables and under the wardrobe.

And I was under the thumb of 'the intruder'.

My cottage, my deep distress, 

my shock, his ultimatums.

A chance for him to over-ride my choices,

my boundaries, my professional guidance

and my sense of safety.

That was 33 years ago.

 

I made a choice, not to paint over that.

Not to falsify,

or paste over stains upon the wall,

or the white-ants and rot beneath the floor.

It seemed, there was no way to go.

 

Which comes to my long way,

and long time, rebuilding.

Without giving away myself.

 

I notice now, when I land in the muddy times,

I have a hot shower.

I keep still. I pray for Grace.

 

Previously, for many decades,

my pattern was to keep on going,

hide my hyper-vigilance, my distress,

my deep sadness,

and just keep doing all I can to fix things.

To be helpful. Always.

To help others find their way,

and I saved the day. I saved years and years.

I was always exhausted.

I painted over ever room within me.

I shone brightly like a blonde. 

Always numb with my pain.

And I think I am going okay!

But I have always given myself away.

 

I was the warm smiling frozen babe,

then an active young mother with wonderful children.

Then later again,

I was frozen under that kitchen lake,

and my first own cottage

was another home to troubles that roamed.

 

For the small girl I had known,

is waiting for me,

to go down and see,

to welcome old pain,

to tenderly reveal,

and slowly to heal

any unseen walls, under carpeted floors,

where light now streams,

where creeks are flowing,

where ice is melting and warmth arises,

where most days glow

with happy surprises.

 

PS.

One day as a young girl

I was asked to help in the kitchen,

to do the washing up.  Please dry the dishes.

Please help.

Yes Barbara means "Little Helper"! (True story)

And Blondie, and Barbie, and Bee

were good little helpers along the way.

And as I go soon to say,

Helping is good, useful, caring and kind>

  

   

 

 
 

Our Soul Is The River

Our soul is the canvas

our soul is the river

shining deeper into life 

as this knowing here within me

lights the way through

the depths

the hidden path 

the trodden past

and detours all along the way.

 

And I only see beauty

but the soul knows

there is more need

to open the trap door

and shine rainbow light over to see

what is still inside me. 

So where my hands and feet are numb

I feel the weight of more lifting,

things yet to be handled, or arranged,

but now I ask myself:

What truly matters in my life?

 

I see and feel

what is arising

I am guided on how or when to be open,

to listen to insights

to see more and to curiously explore.

 

In time, I see more light

and I feel more warmth.

I come to gently wiggle my toes

as I welcome softness and ease.

Oh Yes please. 

Let me be the Helper I will always Be?

 

This poem came to me, 2 months ago 

and there is more to follow. Next post 

is The Little Helper, tomorrow.

 

This photo was taken a week ago when

I was talking to my mother Myrtle's Mountain Ash tree,

after an early walk 

through the new growth of Myrtle Wattles,

around these old eucalyptus trees.

It is nearly 7 years since the wildfires.

 

 

 

Just Being Beautiful

Just being here with you Sweet Blue

just tuning-in to you,

so we do

gently move like sky-dancing,

to bring our song to sing

with much more joy to share

a peaceful loving prayer.

 

Photo:Lambley Gardens, Blue Salvia meadow sage