Jumping With a Swiss Cheese Parachute

Life, that capricious old friend of mine. One moment I am facing a certain direction only to moment later realise that like a tornado whipping through my world life has turned me to a direction I never would have thought of venturing into on my own. Or I feel something nudging my shoulder, softly but persistently, pushing me to take those steps. To cross that border. Ever since I was here last, I have found myself feeling such feelings I never thought myself capable of. And some of them I never wish to feel again. There's been tornados and thunderstorms, rain, hail and snow with the occasional ray of sunlight stretching its golden fingers to tell me to keep on going. That eventually the rain will stop. I am still waiting. Life, you mischievous old creeper, you really did sweep me off my feet this time. Thank goodness I have enough padding on my behind to make the landing that teensy bit softer since it would seem like my parachute has more holes in it than swiss cheese.

I have moved house. And absolutely love the rickety old house I am living in now with its old house smell in the staircase.  I have taken trips and returned to find that while some jumps are worth taking, some will just land you smack down on your bottom. I am getting divorced. And my life will never be the same again, for better or for worse. And I have opened my mind and my heart to people and learned that just like Emily Brontë,
                                        ' No coward soul is mine,

                  No trembler in the worlds storm -troubled sphere.'

Whoa. Serious stuff. So it is. Not much comic relief here in the past months. My fabrics are still packed away in the moving boxes. And my cake thingybobbies are hiding somewhere in the back of the kitchen cupboard. I meant to bake some fancypant cupcakes for the Daughters kindergarten fete, but got ill, so ended up taking two cheesecakes whipped up by my mother.  And you know what, my lovelies, this is where you learn about the true value of friendship and love. It is the people who ask how you're doing with genuine tenderness and sympathy in their eyes. Or the ones who help you out with everyday tasks and chores, and show their love in their actions instead of words. Or the ones whose mere existence is enough to fill you with millions of little pinpricks of light. 

 

When I was very ill, there was a person who sent me 'strength and love'. I count myself fortunate to have so many people wishing me strength at that time, but these two words really made me think. Just two words. And in them a whole life. Who couldn't build a good life around those two things. Strength. Strength enough to crawl, if need be, long enough 'till you can walk. And to walk until you can run. And if you never will be able to run, then strength in the belief that walking will get you there just as well.  And it will. Strength to battle all those pesky little everyday annoyances as well as to deal with the bigger shipwrecks life will inevitably throw in your way. And obviously, strength to belive in love. Love that is not a Hollywood movie. Or Bollywood. Or any other cinematographic 'wood' there might be that I, in my movieland ignorance, am not aware of. To believe in love in all its guises since what we so lightly pronounce to be love these days is, I belive, quite often anything but. And  strength to know that love is not all you need. No matter what Lennon and McCarthy might say. But while it is certainly not all you need, without it this world would certainly be that much bleaker. And needless to say, this world of ours needs no help in the bleakness department. And, of course,  what happens to children who are not loved? So, strength and love it is, then. And maybe a little soul searching thrown in for good measure every now and then....

And after all that, life; capricious, mischievous, mean and lovely, still continues. Maybe next weekend I will dust off my sugarpaste tools and bake some cupcake treats for my new neighbors. And my Sister is already asking for a dress with a decidedly 50's vibe based on this picture from a recent Louis Vuitton ad.

We're talking about the one on the left here...Yeah, we know, it will receive some, ahemm, remodeling on the top part. And I have returned to this poor, neglected little blog. Today, I had a lovely chat with yet another friend whom I see far, far too little, and it was her words that inspired me to come back to this space after such a long time. She was wanting to read more, and I have, after all, for quite some time now felt like writing, something other than my thesis, that is. And as a blog is, or should be, an organic thing, I do not know what the future will hold for this one. Or its writer. But that, after all, is what life is about. Jumping with a Swiss Cheese Parachute.

Strength and love, my friends.