Watch Spot Die

This manifestation malarkey is working a treat.   Okay, so there’s the small question of the lottery but, hey, I won didn’t I?  And I bought another ticket as I figure today’s result was just a dry run.

In the meantime, I’m being sent exactly what I need.  Like the deep meditation track from Jackie Stewart. It’s sending me to such deep places – so way back into the past that I’m skipping millennia.  And then, this morning, a copy of The Psychic Way by Barbara Ford-Hammond.  I love it.  She’s so damn down-to-earth about airy-fairy stuff. I’ll tell you more about it when I’m done reading. 

But summer finally arrived on Exmoor today and it was too nice to stay in reading.  Adrian took James and Beth (his cousin, who’s here for the weekend) off to the mid-Devon show. I opted out.  I wanted some reflective time up at the hillfort. 

So the SP and I set off, with our lottery-won trawl, and climbed up the Cauldron (aka The Chimney, now renamed by James).  We stopped by Lulu’s tree – the one where we’d sat and she’d done her usual magic on me and absolved me of all my guilt (and, by heck, can I do guilt!) 

This tree had been bothering me for a while – the way it had a strand of ivy snaking round it.  It wasn’t an old oak tree – not like Hen’s Old Bert.  It was still straight and true.  It didn’t need strangling; it didn’t need pulling down by ivy.  So, a few days back, in the depths of my witchiness, I’d tried to pull it off.  But – ho hum – it wouldn’t detach.  Well, the middle bit did but it stayed grounded firmly at the root and stuck like superglue to the top.  Even swinging on it – like some demented Tarzan – wouldn’t dislodge the sucker.  It annoyed me.  But today I figured – whatever.  Maybe it’s okay like that.  Maybe it doesn’t mind.

And we went deeper into the woodland, away from the path, away from the possibility of people.  Following deer tracks until we found another oak – older, wiser, also straight and true, also embraced by ivy.  And I lay me down.

I had planned to do some yoga.  To stand tall in Tadasana.  To emulate the trees in Vrksasana.  To see the world sideways in Trikonasana.  To get a bit strong and centred with Virabhadrasana.  But instead I just stretched out – no, not even in Savasana, the corpse pose.  Just lay, felt myself supported by the soft ground, and gazed up at blue sky through green leaves.  I had a bit of a love-in with the Earth.  Felt the dappled sun on my face; felt the soft wind on my bare arms. 

The SP was busy – vanishing through bracken but coming back every so often to check in on me and plant a gentle lick on my face or touch a paw to my hand.

Then I turned and watched the world from the viewpoint of moss. 

I lost track of time.  I’m not sure how many hours I spent up there, clutching the earth.  Then a leaf landed on my hand – an oak leaf.  And I sat up and found an ivy leaf on my lap.  So I tucked them in my notebook, one at the front, one at the back, and walked away.

Walked slowly, meditatively, not my usual half-jog. 

Came back to find the house still empty.  So I sat in the garden and read a bit more of Barbara’s book and was pleasantly otherworldly for a little longer.  Then, all of a sudden, James was there, exuding eau de feral boy.  He plonked down next to me and handed me a sweet.  ‘Hey,’ he said.  ‘What’s a line you won’t find in an Enid Blyton book?’

I shook my head and frowned.  He started laughing, that infectious childish laughter. Could barely get the words out. ‘And so they put Timmy in a sack, threw him in the canal and said, ‘Right, we’re the Famous Four now.’
‘What?’ Started laughing myself.
‘I got this book from the fete. Did I tell you we went to the church fete as well?’
No, but never mind.

‘It’s brilliant,' he went on.  'Listen to this.  Things You Wouldn’t Read in a Children’s Book.  ‘With ten seconds to go in the Quidditch final, Hermione hid the snitch in her snatch.’ 

What the...? 

‘It gets better.  What about this? You remember Spot, right?'  I nodded weakly. God, did I remember bloody Spot.  He started grinning.  ‘Watch Spot Die!  See Spot turn malignant!’’ He convulsed with laughter.  ‘What about this one?  'As Prince Charming leant over Sleeping Beauty, he realised the Rohypnol had worked better than he’d hoped.’” He paused. ‘What’s Rohypnol?’

‘Er, what is that book?’  I snatched it from his sticky paw and rolled my eyes.  Mock the Week.   

From the church fete??

'And..Mum?  What's dogging?'

Ye gods. Where exactly in my three days of hard-working manifestation did I request that my child become exceedingly well-acquainted with filth? 

Why is life so difficult?

Why is life so difficult?  Or rather, why do we make life so difficult for ourselves?  Sometimes it feels like I’m pushing against a vast weight; that I’m like Sisyphus, poor soul, with his shoulder to the boulder.  Okay, so I haven't slept again, and I feel pretty ill and the dreadlines are crashing and the vultures are circling but still...

Maybe I need a different perspective.  We fall into habits, into routine; we have rat-runs. We run in circles, always the same way.  Sometimes, perhaps, we need to reverse the route.  It dawned on me, as I took the SP for his morning walk, that I have never walked up The Chimney, the steep path to the hill-fort (place of strength?).  I have slid down it, many times, but I have never clambered up.  So…

It was beautiful. Filled with flowers.  Not so hard really at all.  Easy, even.  Everything looks different when you go the other way, when you reverse the polarity.  But you still have to be careful.  Once you reach the top the path is indeed easy and even, deceptively so. A straight track through the woods.  Yet roots stretch and, if you don’t keep your eyes on your feet, they will trip you up. 

I used to write about this a lot.  Used to advise people to shift their routines, to try different things, to make shifts, even tiny ones… Does everything always have to be the same? No.  If you do the same workout, the same job, the same anything, you will hit a stagnation point.  Every smart trainer, businessperson, whatever knows you have to shift things around, to throw the occasional spanner in the works.  Do I follow my own advice? Shit no.  Things need to change.

I came down from the fort and reached the vantage point where you can look right out over the valley, past the river and see this small town stretched out in front of you.  I had to refocus my eyes to pick out our house, way over on the other side, up on the hill – a long way away as the path winds.  Ah, but...I had this sudden flash that I could fly there in an instant. Oh, how I wish I could.  Now that would be a change indeed.  Instead I walked back slowly through town, people waving, cars tooting.  Just like always. 

But, funny thing, seems my neighbour, the vicar, has been thinking the same sort of thing.  ‘If you’re a slave to routine, you become anxious when you have to change,’ he said.   True.  ‘But God doesn’t like repeating things,’ he went on.  ‘Since we’re made in God’s image, maybe we should think about how we can find fresh ways of doing things.’  Right on, John.

And, when I came back I found the postman had delivered (out of the blue) three CDs by Art Giser who does something called Energetic NLP – check out his site here.  ‘Are you running your own life?' he said (accusingly, or so I heard it).  Ummm.  'Clear programming and energy to identify your own authentic goals’…’avoid negative energy’…’excuses obliterator’ (ho ho)….’increase your prosperity’… 

Hmm, which to try first?  Then an email pinged in from my accountant which answered that question pretty quickly.  I'll let you know how I get on. 

 

better hope he leaves the boulder behind, eh?

But enough about me; what about you? Do you always do the same stuff all the time?  Does it feel as if nothing ever changes?  Do you feel comforted by routine, or stifled by it? Sometimes it’s hard even to tell until you try shifting.
Maybe today try doing just one thing differently… it could kick off an entire chain reaction.  One of these days, even Sisyphus might think, ‘sod it’, let go of his boulder and book a cruise.

Music? Alela Diane today...