Nature has a power we often forget.

We are as much nature as the things we share our space with.

Using memory as inspiration. Time has a way of casting a fresh perspective over our lives.

I know I haven’t shared my writings for some time. A lot has been going on in my world. Things that have got me questioning much – the whys and what fors – it's not fair – it shouldn’t be. I've been sick. I was in hospital I saw myself fading between the cracks. I didn’t have the strength to put any effort in moving through this process until I realised that the words were still there, the language, the building bricks of life had not left me -  I had left me.

Life’s rough and l was getting caught up the chaos. I was hearing the I’m not good enough echos why can’t I fix it for everyone but then I literally saw a single butterfly, it stopped on the leaf just by my head and suddenly I noticed that the volume had dropped. I focused on this butterfly instead of the chaos. Its wings were not particularly colourful or stunning  but as l stood there I felts its beauty , I felt a power from it as I focused on the fact that it appeared so small so insignificant in a universe beyond limits and yet it was.

Nature and life must always go hand in hand. Without one there can be no other.

I’d just watched a movie that began with the main character escaping from a domestic situation. This was my starting point but then how often are we trapped with in our own abusive relationship with ourselves being both Victim and Perpetrator.  

We have expectations,  commands upon our selves and we punish ourself with negative self talk - It is not that we didn’t get it right this time we can learn and try again BUT. We have failed. We are stupid. We judge ourselves on what we do rather than who we are and we allow what we do color how we see who we are.

We are more than the battle we see within ourselves.

We can learn , we can grow and we can flower.

I was sitting alone the other day when I began to think of life many years ago. I thought of mum and home and a life of liquorice allsorts moments and then I thought of mum's friend up the road. I remembered the moments where I would babysit or just sit and drink homemade ice-coffee at the kitchen table with my mum and her friend. She became my friend.

She is still there, still in that house up the road from where my mum lived. I miss my friend and though we rarely connect now I hold her forever in my heart. I feel the sadness in the house now but there is still that love and I honor and thank my friend for the hours at her kitchen table sharing coffee, tea and home made cookies. My friend, you taught me much but most of all you showed me how much difference a word of compassion can make to both those who receive and those who offer it.

I've spent so much time, so much effort trying to do things right with out knowing which way I was heading, knowing only confusion and only pain. I was sick. I had a label painted upon my back. A label that took away my right to be whole. One that I wore like a chain around my neck. It weighed me down, crushed my soul. It fractured the self, I could not be whole until one day I found the power of words and with this power I found strength. The strength to realise I have a choice and in recognising this I found my voice.

Words can lead to our greatest understanding or be the barrier to connection. What a wonderful and complex dichotomy they bring to our lives.

In this time of super duper connectivity we are more alone than ever. I grieve often for the cost we bear for this.