First published 1st March 2020
Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.
— Oscar Wilde.
Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:
A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
My First Blog Post
Category: rhymes
Day 23 – rain
Writing into Life
When I wake this morning I hear the sound of rain, and my thoughts go to the reminder that has come through the Buddhist teachings: welcome wholeheartedly whatever. I also think of RARE: recognise, address, reduce and eliminate delusional thoughts.
I’ve always liked the sound and feel of rain and generally been an all-weather girl, providing I’ve been wrapped up to face the elements or under cover to relish being cosy and dry. I have loved this long summer though, with the warm and sunny weather that we’ve had and thought I would miss it more than I am doing.
After a cup of tea, a recitation of the meditation prayers to myself (I don’t feel up to chanting them out loud at the moment, not when I’m on my own, anyway), and a meditation followed by the Liberating Prayer*, Lydia and I get ready to go out.
It’s a later start than usual, still damp outside and as we start our walk there is some very fine rain. Not enough to make me wish I’d worn a hood or anywhere near enough to persuade Lydia to wear her raincoat. She really doesn’t like to wear a raincoat and I only persist in getting her to wear one if it is particularly cold and icy. Today it is still warm and the rain holds off as we walk.
It’s quiet, with only a dog walker who I regularly see passing by in her van. I wave, Lydia starts to lunge, I ask her to sit, and she does. What a clever girl. She is doing so well.
Back home, after putting her bag of ‘poopie’ in the bin, I wash my hands and give Lydia her breakfast in her food ball. Before I have my breakfast, I put some dry washing away and put some more in the machine. It’s good to keep on top of housework and doing a bit at a time works for me. I’m not a domestic goddess but I do like a clean house, even if it’s not clean all over all the time. I do it on a sort of rota basis as I concentrate on other priorities. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be motivated to go round the house with a duster every day but I’m not.
Lydia tries to get me to give her some more food but I resist. I do, however, take a bag of cooked chicken pieces out of the freezer, to give her as a surprise treat later when they’re defrosted. For now, she’s lying just a couple of yards away, watching me type and looking very relaxed.
It’s just the two of us at the moment as Trev’s away visiting places in the UK that I don’t want to visit. It’s Corfe Castle for him today. For me it’s the Buddhist class tonight.
Quite where I would be if I hadn’t had access to these teachings, I don’t know, except that I think I do, and it wouldn’t be a good place. Thankfully, I am in a good place and I’ll keep working at it to keep it that way.
My thoughts turn to a friend who introduced me to Buddhism many years ago. He’s not in a good place at the moment so I hold him in my thoughts for a while and hope that he soon is.
*Composed by the Venerable Geshe Kelsang Rinpoche and recited at Kadampa meditation centres throughout the world: https://kadampa.org/podcast/the-liberating-prayer
The Pebble, the Picture and the Plant
First published 26 May 2020
Perfectly placed on a shelf, they appear to have arrived where they were always meant to be, the pebble, the picture and the plant. Which is odd really because pebbles are meant for beaches and pictures for art galleries or walls; plants can be anywhere that nature calls.
I’ve no idea where the plant came from apart from the supermarket where I picked it up. Or did it pick up me, with its green and white simplicity?
The plant is now closely proximal to the pebble and the picture, in a ceramic pot.
Three things together that I like a lot.
2020
Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S
A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ho21L8
My First Blog Post
First published 1st March 2020
Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.
— Oscar Wilde.
Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:
A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
Shoes & Boots
I desperately needed a new pair of dog walking boots and have just found the perfect pair at #shoezone.
Also bought some black patent shoes, which made me think of some patent shoes that I had when I was a child, with a buckle. I loved those shoes, as I did a pair of purple patents that I had a while ago.
I loved those purple shoes so much that I wrote a poem about them. Here it is:
Perfectly Purple Patent
No other shoe
Looks quite like you do
Purple patent perfection
You don't just give my feet protection
Your bright shiny uppers
Light up my soul
When I'm out wearing you
I can only be bold
Bright yellow stitching
A statement of strength all around
Air cushioned and confident
A complement of colours profound
I love you purple patent shoes
You're perfect in every patent way
And every time that I wear you
My heart and soul become more purple
And less blue
Potfest 2022
Next weekend I’m taking part in an event called Potfest in Melton Mowbray #potfest. https://potfest.co.uk/potter/maggie-baker/
Maggie Baker
This completes a cycle for me that started many years ago.
Poetry & Pottery: The Perfect Partnership
There is no way I would have completed that cycle without all the help, inspiration and support I’ve had from family and friends.
And the wheel is going to keep on turning!
Bicycle pumps & bananas
The other day I went through a box full of pieces that I’ve written in the past, and picked out seven items: poems, essays, ramblings. These are the titles:
- Stirring abroad, without … within …
- Bicycle pumps & bananas
- Memories of a difficult day
- Memories of a distinctly different day to the one I had yesterday
- Surfing the Turf
- Ms. Carriage
- Written on the train to London some time in May
I also picked out a couple of pieces that I hadn’t written: one about learning and the other about ‘Being Human’.
I think the most important thing that I’ve learned about being human is to be able to accept that I get things wrong because I’m human, and for no other reason.
In any case, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in my experience aren’t always clearly defined, particularly since our lives are always unfolding, never fixed or final. We have expectations based on concepts of ‘normal’ but when we can drop those then all sorts of other possibilities arise.
There was a time when I thought that if I could do nothing else other than make sure that my cat – Bertie – had a good life, then that was enough. Who’s to say that it wasn’t?
I might publish ‘Bicycle pumps & bananas’ eventually but, for now, here’s ‘ Surfing the Turf’:
I'd like to roll myself
In earth-warmed turf
Like a bug in a rug
Snug
Safe from harm
The grass would tickle
My nose and toes
The worms would squirm
Warm and
Alive
I'd have to put an elastic band
Around the roll of turf
To stop it unfolding
Unfurling
Exposing
Me
But if it did
I'd need to find
A sleeping bag
To ease my mind
And then I would
If I could
Sit by the river
Forever watching
In awe and wonder
At the world
Flowing
By
Doing Again
At the turn of the Millennium, I completed a project under the Mind-Millennium Award Scheme.
My project – the Lifelines Project – involved collecting and publishing poems, pictures and self-help strategies from other people who, like me, had suffered from enduring and debilitating depression.
I had not met many of the contributors, and was amazed – honoured – that they trusted me with their personal expressions, all because of the underlying intention of reaching out in the hope of helping others.
If you, yourself, are suffering with depression, I would like to wish you well and tell you that you are not alone.”
Since then, there’s been increased awareness about mental health and how it can be improved. While there remains much to be done in society from the ‘prevent’ and ‘promote’ perspectives, being able to – and even encouraged – to talk about mental health difficulties more openly represents a start.
In my own experience, I eventually got fed up of talking – I’ve never been much good at it anyway. I knew that I needed to take action, to find ways of turning my life around, however difficult or painful that might be. And I knew it would be difficult and painful, to rebuild from a below zero level when I was in my forties.
From somewhere, somehow, I found the resolve to put my head down, prioritise, and push myself through. For a long time I concentrated on work and on developing my internal resilience. Just before I turned 60 I decided to take the plunge and commit to a relationship. I now have a much fuller and richer life than I have ever had before and I’m thankful for that.
Even so, life continues to be difficult and I still take antidepressants – probably always will. But I have other coping skills and strategies, and have also been able to recently retire, taking away work pressures that I could no longer deal with.
I wasn’t able to keep in touch with all the people who contributed to the Lifelines Project but they’ve always remained in my thoughts and I hope that they too have been able to find a way through; a way that works for each of them:
Sylvia
Marcia
Maggie 2
Peter
Virginia
Henzie
Maggie 3
Jonathan
Fiona
Sean
Christopher
Polly
Christine
Caz
John
Caroline
Frances
Susan
Patricia
Mary
Dave
Mark
Tony
Iain
I thought it was fitting to include a poem by one of the Project contributors – Mark:
Recovery
The night has been terror:
depression, cold, confusion.
– Ears scream.
Grey – the morning in my front-room.
A tear on my cheek and
a child’s grizzle
for a few seconds
– From my adult form.
A small rebellion
– The beginning of action.
A tiny sunbeam through the window
– Doing again.
Unwanted gift? No wear
Jacket 1
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity.
I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams.
It’s theirs to wear
Not mine to keep
Their tears to cry
Not mine to weep.
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep
So I’ve put a price on its head
To let it go free
To someone who wants it
But who wants me?
Jacket 2
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity.
I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams.
It’s not my layer
These aren’t my lies
With drawstring waist
And nylon ties.
It’s not my jacket
They’re not my dreams
These aren’t my ties
They’re not my seams.
So I leave the jacket
On the chair
To go my way
While they go theirs.
Jacket 3
Now it hangs upon the door
That red fleece jacket
That I didn’t want to wear
Didn’t want to keep.
It’s warm and soft when I put it on
And not too big for me
Warmed in a red sea
Shapeless no more
No baggy, saggy faceless entity.
I look at the jacket
On the door
In limp, loose folds of red and seams
It’s not the jacket of my dreams
But just a layer to keep me warm
From frozen looks
And glares of scorn.
It is my jacket
With hood and waist
To wear awhile
From place to place.
Jacket 4
What next?
Jacket 5
Jacket
In?
Jacket 6
No!
(c) Maggie ‘Glad the Poet’ Baker, 2003
A Bag of Clay
A bag of clay
some simple tools
it’s time to play
by my own rules
The place to start
is here and now
I’ll make some art
then take a bow
The bag of clay
is mine to mould
to use my way
until I’m old
Pinch, coil and fire
it will become
a bag of clay
in different form
Maggie ‘Glad the Poet/Potter’ Baker 2021
Glad About 
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