Thursday, 22 March 2012

Good Day, Bad Day.

Yesterday started off really well. No, wonderfully, actually.  I found out that one of my stories posted on had received over 46,000 hits!  I mean, 46,000!  Thats half Wembly stadium!

I was like that ball thing that Will Smith lets loose by accident in 'Men In Black', the one that pings and bounces around the lab at a million miles an hour!  All day I kept catching myself saying '46,000 readers!'.

Lots of other good things happened too.  It was beautifully sunny.  The new digibox was delivered, and its great.  I was well enough to drive myself into Norwich to my counselling appointment, and even do a bit of shopping.  I was so happy.

Then I came home and checked my email.  There was a cruel one from someone close to me.  This person has hurt me badly.  I don't know why.  I tried not to let it spoil my day.  Pat took me out to the pub to celebrate.  I didn't feel much like celebrating, even though I felt like all my hard work has finally begun to pay off, and I can hold my head high among other writers at last.  I don't have to apologise for being myself anymore.  Except to this one person.  I know I shouldn't allow them to get to me.  Partly, it is because I don't know why they are behaving in this way because they won't tell me.  And partly, it is because I just want to be loved - don't we all?

And then I heard the Universe speak.

I was flipping through last weekend's Telegraph magazine and I found this quote from Armistead Maupin:

"My life is full of love; I designed it that way.  I try to make my own experience about love and I look for kindness and tenderness in others...That's the thing I value the most: it will get you through everything."

I can't stop this person behaving cruelly to me.  But I can choose the way I respond.  I can choose to believe the 46,000 readers, and not the one email correspondent.  I can design a life that is full of love.

You might also like to read this from Keri Smith.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012


snow geese in flight
This morning I dropped Pat off at the bus stop in the village, and as I was driving back, I saw a skein of geese crossing the sky.  I was on the farm track, so I pulled over and watched.  They were flying in a 'v' shape that undulated and shimmered.  Sometimes they would disappear into the grey sky as they changed direction slightly, and the white tips of their wings showed.  They would jumble up and reorganise.  And flap doggedly on.  They've come so far.  I can't believe they are finally here.  It means Spring is coming.  There is a primrose out in the front garden, and the japonica is covered in fat, blood-red buds.  The world is coming alive again.