Written in June 2021
In the evenings, I have been knitting socks from oddments of yarn and as I have been asked to share pictures and this post is about life's patchwork, I have dotted them throughout.
Eleven years ago, when I started working from home for the psychic service, part of the interview process was with a lovely lady in a customer services role supporting all the readers. A friendship grew and each time we were working, we'd log onto Skype and work together as if we were in the same office. Messages flowing back and forth;
'Is it time to put the kettle on?'
'See you in the canteen for lunch.'
Sharing our life's news as we moved into new chapters of our lives and across different countries. I stopped working for the service, yet we still flowed together as we always had. She now lives in France and yes, the messages were in as much French as we could muster between us. Yesterday, she retired and we had our final 'Bon Voyage' sailing together. I wish her every moment of happiness and freedom yet it was strange not logging onto Skype this morning. Thank goodness for WhatsApp, as we will continue to share on there, free of all work routine for her.
I could not settle yesterday evening, so I headed out into the garden to do battle with a new flowerbed I am making. My neighbour mentioned that she hadn't seen a flowerbed there for over twenty years and given how tight a grip the grass has in that space, I believe her! Bit by bit, I am doing a forkful width at a time. 'Bashing a bit off' as my heart buddy would say. I found a bit of digging and struggling to be grounding and when I went back indoors I was able to settle down to some knitting.
I knitted and messaged back and forth for a little while with a buddy in South Africa. We were flowing support with crocheting and knitting projects we are tackling. In our hearts, still, those nineteen-year-old lassies who worked together in the telex room at BP in Johannesburg.
As I knitted, I pondered on life's flow. Allowing things to leave, change shape and let space be. Just as it is.
I recalled a sharp moment when exhausted, as I stood at my Mum's old back door and watched the sunset through the glass. It was the final stages of Dad's workshop clearance and the sharks were circling on the remaining steam engine. Mum and I both felt that this engine represented the pinnacle of Dad's journey and craftmanship with steam and precision engineering. My quiet state probably lulled a shark into a false sense of certainty and he overplayed his hand. I stood listening to his chatter over the phone and watched the last rays of the sun leave the sky. I cut him short and told him the engine was destined to go elsewhere and then reassured Mum that it would all work out and I would sleep on it. I trusted that a new pathway would become clear and the next morning I woke up knowing what to do. The engine is now in her new home and trusting in spirit and universal flow has gifted a connection that is beyond price.