Grateful: Day 131 - Synchronicities and Light

Serendipity Dog Shot

Already last night I had planned to sleep in and go to the pond late, but nobody, not even my secret subconscious, knew quite how late. As I slept late in the morning, I dreamt that I was walking along a street as the sun went down, heading for the pond and realising with distress that I'd missed my chance.


I didn't miss my chance, though, and for that, I'm grateful as always. After a long morning of not doing, and a conversation with my lovely friend Esther Lilley, I made decisions and took some action. One of the bits of action I took was to go out on the roof terrace that sits beneath my bedroom window. Immediately, I felt my shoulders drop and a gentleness appear on my face. 


The sun was not warm, but hot. The air was tangible. Immediately, I heard the birds. I felt altogether gentler. I wondered about doing yoga up there, on balmy mornings when the sun's been up for hours, getting it ready. 


When I finally made it to the pond, my energy was low. I wasn't feeling very happy, or very purposeful. Listless, rather, and like I had no point. As I walked into the changing rooms (expecting to be alone), I heard voices. One of them mentioned snarling. I said 'Oh, are we having a snarl? I'd be up for that.' Because I was so ready for a big old snarl with a couple of strangers. Any time. This time. Right now.

But that's not what they meant. The smaller lady, almost 80, with very black, very round spectacles, a hat and a trolley, had a migraine. She said it was like her brain was snarling. That's a fabulous image in itself. She said it was tight and excruciating at the base of her skull and I said, without thinking 'I have magic hands. Shall we see what we can do?' To my surprise, she said yes immediately and dutifully sat down and let me put my hands on her head. She didn't take her hat off. The other lady, a beautiful, noble-looking violin teacher a good few years younger, sat calmly nearby and said nothing.


We spent a moment. I felt nothing. She felt intense heat, and release. She got up a few minutes later and was fine. Chipper, even. I found it very hard to believe, as I feel pretty much nothing whenever I do that stuff. And I'm cynical. But it seemed to work. 


After a chat, she left. I didn't ask her to come and play in Islington. I wish I had. I think she would enjoy it. She was a dancer and did lots of contact improv. Thomasina (pronounced Thomas-eye-na), her name. Then Elizabeth, with wise blue eyes, shared other things - her work with Alexander technique, her violin teaching, Suzuki's healing hands. And she took my number, in case she thought of anyone she felt I should meet. I hadn't even started to get changed at this point, and already the pond had taken its effect. Very grateful, I was, to have gone to the pond so late. Elizabeth had the same thought. Her plan was to come earlier but she didn't make it. She said she was happy she delayed.


I stayed in for ages today. The pond was mine alone again. There was a beautiful cormorant stretching and posing on a lifebelt for a while, but he left before I got in. The sun was hot on my head and blinding in my eyes. The water was firm and cold, the skies blue. The sun did proper dappling. In the field above, ladies sunbathed on benches.


Afterwards, I went for a walk on the sunny heath. An excellent call with Dominique G was slightly interrupted by a loping Great Dane who came and stood right with me. He seemed a little jumpy, but he let me pet him a little. Then his companion showed up, a very straightforward Basset Hound. He was happy to be petted. That kind of thing pleases me greatly. Uncomplicated dog action. Wonderful.


The light on the heath was a gift. I stood there for a while, just bathing it in, grateful I could be there, not in an air-conditioned office somewhere waiting for the day to end. 

And a cake. I managed a cake. It's not perfect, but it is okay, and it will taste good. Grateful to Joan for sugar tips and readiness advice. It's covered in glaze, my cake, and filled with buttercream, so it had better taste good. It's coming with me tomorrow. And I did a curry too. Spicier than intended, but cooked, partly eaten, saved. Tomorrow, there are things to do. That's a good thing. Come on, love. Make it happen.