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Love, the common thread

March 15th, 2015, Mother’s Day, UK.
Love is our theme. Great Mother love. The universal umbilical chord of love that binds us, frees us, enables us to be who we are. As daughter, mother and grandmother, how I give and receive love is my greatest lifelong ongoing journey of enquiry and experience. It is an occupation which rewards beyond measure. Yet love also lies far beyond occupation, feeling state, or our own or others’ understanding of the how, the what or the why. And so today, regardless of our ‘status’, I honour us all – mothers, fathers, daughters, brothers, sons alike for doing the best that we can. We are one and the same. I honour the mother in you as I honour the mother in me. I am enough.


There is a common thread running through the rivers of blood and the rivers of love, an invisible thread; love is our bond. It keeps us grounded deep to the bowels of the earth and enables us to soar high through the sky on a wing and a prayer.  Invisible to the naked eye, it is a mere drop in the ocean; that very drop without which the sea would not be the sea.  It is the one and the whole. Love has every name and no name. Nestled deeply in the cloud of uncertainty, love never doubts. Love is the familiar in the unfamiliar.   Love lies hidden from our judging mind’s eye; it remains ever patient, faithful, still and present, naked within our human heart.


Very Inspiring Blogger Award


I am pleased to inform that I have nominated you for the ‘Very Inspiring Blogger Award’. The details can be found here:
has nominated me for the ‘Very Inspiring Blogger Award’. I am grateful and very honoured by his nomination. Apologies for the length of time it has taken me to complete this exercise. The rules for the award are:

1. Thank the person who nominated you and add their link to your blog
2. List the award rules so your nominees will know what to do.
3. State 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers.
5. Contact your nominees and provide a link to your post.
6. Display the award logo (button) on your blog, whether on your sidebar or about page, or special award page.

Some random seven facts about me are mentioned in the following:

1. I was born in the UK, but my first spoken language is Polish

2. My favourite month of the year is May; my least favourite November

3. The first book I ever read was Heidi by Johanna Spyri

4. I adore Italy, the land of pizza, pasta and dolce far niente

5. Krakow in Poland is my soul city

6. The quality I find most attractive is an excellent sense of humour

7. I am a great rule breaker

Which leads me on rather neatly to nominees. My list is too long and the blogs I follow don’t fall into the category as prescribed above. Rather than giving up and not completing this exercise, here is a slight adaptation and seven blogs I recommend that I follow regularly.

Brenda Ann Babinski at PastLife Tourist and Pieces of Me

Susannah Conway at

The Culture Monk

Mastin Kipp, The Daily Love –

Ian Lawton,

Amy Hewel,

“He Came For You”

December 24th 2014, Midnight, Holy Trinity Brompton, London

“If you remember nothing else from tonight,  just remember these four words.  He came for you”  

May, 1959 

She was so excited, she barely slept a wink. Today was the day she had been waiting for.  The white dress and veil hung close by her on a hanger by her bed. So close that she could touch it and feel it.  Tantalisingly close. On the floor, next to her, stood a pair of white shoes. She knew deep in her heart of hearts that all of her life had been a preparation for this day; stepping into this white dress, this lace veil, these white shoes.  As she lay there, she could feel her heart bursting open with joy. Today was the day. The moon filled the room with magical light, resting on her dress, making it shine even more brightly.  She wished she could make the hands on the clock move faster. As soon as dawn broke, she leapt out of bed and got dressed.  Carefully, she stepped into her dress, veil and shoes.  Steadfastly, she turned the knob to her parents’ bedroom next door.  There was not a second to waste.  She needed to make sure her mum and dad were awake.   The time had come.

 Sunday, June, 1955

A gloriously sunny family fun day.  A day of exploring pastures new.  Too many buses to remember.   Travelling… all day long.  She loves walking, especially when holding the hand of each parent on either side, but now her little feet are too tired to carry her any longer.  Her father sweeps her up on his shoulders and she wraps her arms around his head for the final leg home.  There is no place she would rather be.  This is a place of great honour and she knows it.  She immediately feels ten, twenty, no, who knows how many, feet tall.  She is sitting on the shoulders of a giant.  She wraps her arms around him even more tightly.  Her father, sensing her weariness, points to the night sky.  She has never, ever, seen anything more beautiful.  A dark blue velvet blanket, peppered with twinkling, shining lights.  “You see that star up there”,  her father says, “that one up there, the brightest one you can see?  That is my gift to you.  It is yours.  Whenever you look up, remember that.

20th May, 1991

She receives a telephone from her mother, early in the morning.  “It’s your father”, her mother say.  “I don’t think he’s very well.  I have called an ambulance”.  “I’m coming right over”, she replies, in a semi sleepy state.  She hangs up the receiver.  Immediately her whole body tightens and contracts.  She turns to her husband, a deep unfamiliar roar arising from her belly…a voice she has never ever experienced before.  A scream that seems to arise from the very bowels of the earth.  She arrives alone at her parents’ house and goes into the kitchen, where her mother is sitting in a bewildered state.  The ambulance is still outside.  Her mother asks her to close the kitchen door.  Something is happening upstairs.  The ambulance men have asked her mother to stay downstairs, in the kitchen.   Moments later, they hear the thud of feet thumping down the stairs.   Her father is being carried out into the ambulance, he is all zipped up.   “I called the ambulance, but your father was already dead”, she hears her mother say.  In that precise moment, it feels like all the lights in the world go out at once – sunlight, moonlight, candlelight, twilight…all extinguished by the velvety dark blanket of death and sky.   She knows now is not the time to surrender to deep grief and sink under that velvety blanket.  Her mother, husband and her children are all looking up to her.  Her brothers with their newly married partners, have just arrived and all are gathered at the family house.   At this moment in time, her mother, children, husband, brothers, they need her like never before.  Time to step up.

22th May, 1991, Morden and Sutton Cemetery

It is the night before her father’s funeral.  All preparations have been made.  She is sleeping in her eldest son’s bedroom, where there are two single beds, to keep a watchful eye on her mother.  Lucy, the family labrador, who has always slept alongside her,  has been sleeping on her mother’s bed ever since she arrived.   Weary and burdened with grief, she finds it impossible to get to sleep.  She turns to look up at the night sky.  There is only one star shining that night.  The brightest star in the sky.  Peace falls on her immediately.  Her father has come to her to let her know he has arrived home, safely.  There is nothing to fear.  She feels herself expand, the two year old, sitting on her father’s shoulders.  Feet firmly on the ground, hands touching the sky.   This is what it feels like to be a child of the Universe.  This is what it feels like to be the Christ-child, the child-in-waiting.  This is what it feels like to turn around and come home.   Earth mother, heavenly father.    There is no better feeling.  All you need to do is look up, reach out and touch…

 25th December 2014 

Four words, one bright star in the sky.

“He came for you”

Life has a deep and simple purpose.  To feel this one precious moment.  To stay still, long enough to ponder, wonder at and behold this child King in my heart.  To enter this sacred, simple, humble stable.    I have travelled far, to the furthest star and back.  Here I am dearest Lord, my Prince of Peace.  Ready, willing, waiting.  Thank you for welcoming me home, time and time again.  I am yours and you are mine.








At the crossroads

Come sit and stay awhile with me,
Stay and do not fret.
Stay as still as still can be,
Courage! You’ve seen nothing yet.


Halt the frenzy, stop the fight.
No hanging in shame, receive.
Turn around, look up, look up, look up.
At the crossroads of heaven and hell
We sit

Come sit and stay awhile with me.


So much beauty, joy and yes – love – that four-letter word, which our weary hearts become too cynical of. Let’s never get so weary that we can no longer see, touch, hear and feel the beauty of this life, this world. The beauty within ourselves and within each other. Nameste. xx

Richard M. Ankers - Author

The day seeks to burn its memory into our souls

Setting fire to the oncoming dusk

Scorching a trench of light between it and the gloaming

It is a reminder to the darkness that it is powerless

Incapable of resisting all that it means to GLOW

And that despite those few hours of night

A new day burns just over the horizon

Image courtesy Michelle Marie

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