Deep Rooted Like Tulips

16th November 2011 Wednesday

A quick blog - my sister says she has read research about sleep and that it’s good to be in bed by eleven. It’s already past that - I’m tired, but I notice how I don’t want to give up my late nights alone with myself and this writing space.

This morning I spend time with a lovely woman who tells me about my soul journey, over many lifetimes. She says my heart is tender and that I feel everything can be both a gift and a heavy weight. She says there are many possibilities for my husband and nothing is set in stone. I feel lighter and burden-lifted after her gracious and loving healing, releasing old grief and betrayal. And deep rooted in my heart. Like the red tulips I planted yesterday in black earth.

At home I make a call to my father’s doctor who says the pains he feels in his chest at night are most likely to be re-flux and not angina. I pass the message on to my sister who is sitting with my father in his room and she reassures him. I love mobile phones.

I finish making the mincemeat I started yesterday - stir in more currants and cranberries and slosh in more brandy. I cut up brussel sprout tops and leeks for supper and cook the two huge pans of apples that my husband peeled and chopped this morning. He says he likes projects to get him out of bed. Even if it’s just the washing up. I haven’t washed up for ages.

We sit together on the sofa for our ten minute Mindful Meditation and pay attention to the noises in the street outside - a car revving, children shouting, the rain hitting the window panes. And breathe in and out. Intimate moments before we head out into the dark and wet and the womb of the cinema.