Tag: sadness

About Time

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

 First published 1st March 2022

When I went through a major breakdown in my late thirties, one of the many things I struggled to come to terms with, as I fought my way back to functionality, was the sense of all the ‘wasted time’ that had gone into building a life that at that stage had come to ‘nothing’.

Roll on more than a quarter of a century, and I’ve had a significant shift in mindset. As each day unfolds, I feel a strong sense of being gifted with it; of having all the time in the world. ‘Making the most of it’ can mean anything I want it to mean, whether that be resting, walking, making something out of clay, washing up, doing housework, doing nothing.

So, how did I get from where I was to where I am now?

I’m not sure, because it’s all a bit of a blur, but I know I’ve done a lot of meditating, a lot of searching, a lot of turning myself inside out, of fighting the thoughts that threatened to pull me into despair, a lot of reaching out, falling, getting up again and trying something else.

Sometimes the last push is the hardest and coming to terms with things that I couldn’t change took some doing.  At around the same time that I had a counsellor who was determined to avoid the key issues that I needed to address, I came across a Buddhist teaching that helped me enormously: https://madhyamaka.org/how-to-accept-what-cant-be-changed/.

The lingering sadness associated with not having been able to form a family of my own has taken a different turn recently, in the form of a furry friend.  She’s not a baby; she’s an adult dog. However, she’s done something to my heart that’s filled a gap I never thought could be filled. Time isn’t about what’s past or ‘lost’, it’s about being here and now, with my partner, and our dog.

 

Day 1 – Filing

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

Writing into Life

Lydia is loving this summer.

She soaks up the sun when she wants to, and searches out shady spots when she needs to cool down.

We have a good walk together, mid- to late morning.

I still find the ‘waking up and getting out of bed’ bit of the day very difficult. But I do it, with the help of a routine which involves meditating and sitting quietly with a cup of tea before I do anything else. And this morning I did get myself out of bed a bit earlier than I have been doing, so something must be working.

Over the last couple of weeks, as well as preparing paperback versions of my two latest books, I’ve also taken part in an open mic poetry session at a local library. This was so inspirational not least because the library is in my home town, and I don’t have many positive associations with my home town, due to what I now realise is the trauma I experienced as a child. I disassociated, went into survival mode, and the rest isn’t history because I can hardly remember any of it. But it doesn’t matter.  I’ve realised it doesn’t matter because it’s in the past, and I’m living my best life today.

What constitutes a ‘best life’ for me though, doesn’t mean that I need to go on exotic holidays or do ‘special’ stuff all the time. It’s the ‘small’ everyday stuff that does it for me, most of the time. Yes, I like to go out for meals, have treats and takeaways, holidays occasionally, but I don’t want to miss out on what I have around me, in the here and now, every day.

And that includes attending to my own personal paperwork – and filing.

Historically I haven’t been the best at this, although steadily, during the process of my recovery, I have been pulling chaos into order, establishing priorities and making sure that I don’t leave a pile of debris in my wake (literally, in my wake, i.e. when I do ‘pop my clogs’ my affairs are going to be so simple for the Executor to administer).

I first started developing a set of ‘rules for self-management’ some time ago, as an antidote for having been badly managed by others.  Ideas for these rules popped into my head from time to time and I wrote them down, not knowing what I was going to do with them, or when I would be able to do anything with them.  The self-management rules became ‘poetry rules’ for a while, as I related some of my poems to the inherent principles within.

Now I’m back to thinking again in terms of self-management, and I’m going to steadily work through my rules, applying them to my life as I continue to walk and work with Lydia, write this blog, live with my partner, meet up with friends and neighbours, write more poems, make more pots. I’m going to do my own filing as well along with a lot of other things I want and need to do.

Ambitions

Gleeful

Wild

Outrageous

Contagious

Cheerful

Fearful

Full

Respectful

Disrespectful

Mad

Sad

Glad

Cook

Read a Book

Make Tea

Dance

Romance

Work

Shirk

Naughty

Nosy

Silly

Me.

Available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited:

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life – https://amzn.eu/d/1ljZIDA

A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life – https://amzn.eu/d/0wj6lWa

The paperback versions will be available soon.

Day 9

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

Lydia is very calm on our walk this morning; much calmer than she’s been on a walk for a very long time. It’s lovely just to amble along with her, stop when she sniffs at and forages blackberries, feel no need to do much other than just walk along with my dog beside me. I tell her what a lovely dog she is and let her know how much I’m enjoying my walk with her.

I also thank her when we get back to the car. I want her to feel appreciated. She is.

The sense of mellowness and calm continues throughout the day.

I visit a friend in the village. We also go for a walk together, and we thank each other to show our appreciation of each other’s company.  It’s a lovely thing, to enjoy the company of another; nothing to prove; just a sense of being together, being alive and being there for each other, even if it’s just for that day.

As I write, Lydia is enjoying being outside on a day which is warmish with a soothing breeze.

I’m enjoying being inside, with the door open.

A lingering sadness remains and always will, but the nagging, aching grief has gone, as each day brings something new, or not new. It doesn’t matter. Each day just brings.

No such thing

There’s no such thing
As an ordinary day
Each day awakens
In its own way

Some days it rains
Some days it’s sunny
Some days are serious
And nothing seems funny

There’s no so thing
As an ordinary day
Each day is different
In its own way

Some days are lonely
Some days are glad
Some days are joyful
Others are sad

There’s no such thing
As an ordinary day
Each day unfolds
In its own way

Some days are busy
Others are slow
Some days it’s hard
To know which way to go

There’s no such thing
As an ordinary day
Each one just passes
In its own way

***

And when the day
Is done and gone
We sleep
Until another day
That isn’t ordinary
Comes along

Maggie Baker
April 2025