Dearest Carol,
I hope this finds you very well today. It’s a Thursday, and although I got up very early to take Dorrit out, I went back to bed and could not get up again until 11:00 a.m. as I was not feeling very well. Nonetheless, I am so thankful for Dorrit and to get up each morning for another. Outside the village the fields feel endless, and it’s hard to describe how big the 360-degree, all-the-way-around sky feels.
This letter is for you, but I write with the awareness that others will be reading this (hello!). Perhaps to let them know we met in a gay bar called ICONS back in 2015, and for sure I met an icon — that is you! As always, I am so thankful for our friendship and work we have made together and for your incredible poetry and words.
This invitation for us to write, from Flash Art, gives people a glimpse through a window onto a different place in the world. I am of course writing from the small village of Ie in the far north of the Netherlands, where it is far more empty than the rest of the country and it feels like living on an ancient seabed which the sea could reclaim at any moment.
One thing which is very present here is that over the last two years there has been much protest, with many of the farmers protesting against requirements from the Dutch government to limit cattle numbers for climate change. It is a very difficult situation, but it seems to resemble the difficult gulf in how transitions are made in our lives, and the support structures that allow changes to be made. I suppose I am thinking about this a lot always in my own life and how I/we deal with change. Last year I wrote a song in which the lyrics are:
Some days I know how they’re going to go
Some days I know what to flow
Some days, some days, some days, some days
Some days, some days, some days, some days
How do you know?
One of these phone calls I’ll bury in the sand
A hard right just do what you can
These feelings I don’t understand
What they do
So what do you do?
Some days I just gotta go
But some days I can’t let go
Some days, some days, some days, some days
But some day, some day, some day
I’ll let go
And if you go east then I’ll go west
I’ll take it at my best
Hold the day in the palm of your hand
And roll it down the road
I wonder if you might also like to make a poem in return, about how you deal with transition and change, or maybe you have some advice?
I know since COVID-19 that you have found it very difficult to leave the house, and have only left one or two times the last three years since COVID-19. I am very glad to hear that you are getting support now from the social workers you finally have.
I think for me the reason I could not get up this morning is because my body always responds like this when I am going through a transition or change or I am stressed. I am trying to learn to listen to my body, because it is so precious. Sending all my love,
Rory
xxxx
***
Dear Rory,
I have had my fruit supper and rested my fingers 🖐 and now write an email in return to your letter with some words in response:
What do we bring to the space in between?
Take time to slow down and reflect.
Refocus on the past, for what does it bring to the present day?
Let go of some of the gray clouds of regret and let in the sunshine 🌞 of optimism for the future.
Know that there is going to be a time when we can all come out of our rooms and hug you and me and everyone else without fear of our newly learnt reserve.
Dear friend, just to let you know I am still here and keeping on with the creative process. I am so glad that you and little Dorrit are doing well, for together we are always stronger.
For a single twig is easy to break, but a bundle say of four or six all tied together is tough enough not to be broken easily. That’s why family anchors. Friends are so important and worth the effort to maintain the connection and comfort.
The word theist just about sums up why I am a believer in the Lord God Almighty. An old word from the seventeenth century or earlier. I am also addicted to the second meaning of the word theist, from Latin: thea, or tea. I gleaned this wonderful word from Susie Dent’s Dictionary Corner on the Radio Times. As that beverage was and still is a great bridge between me and the alcoholic I used to be.
Theologian as a professor and as a professional. I am glad to be called an ICON because it means that all that hard work I put into hone my craft in words is appreciated. I am no longer that scared teenager who turned down a chance given by school to join the Prince’s Trust as I was heartbrokenly vulnerable. I may not be well traveled, but with words I travel as my words are so powerful and precious.
Ever old and ever new, so forward on my friends. As we are all jolly good folks and keep each other company.
Go well in Jehovah and the Golden Sunshine 🌞 ✝
with love 💕
Carol
xx
A & Z of Agapay for Zealots.
Somedays I know that my life is going well
Those days I am glad that I have all the blessings of
Agapay
That my chalice 🏆 is overflowing with love 💕
Then I can make my art in a flash
Ideas are combing as easy as breathing
I feel blessed and loved
Nowadays I hide away in hibernation
Having friends come by to visit
Bringing news of the outer world
My own version of burying my head in the sand
So what am I going to do?
I know that I am going to remain
Sitting in my soft chair
That I’ll venture out into the wide blue yonder
Viewing it on my TV
As we are all good friends and jolly good company who
care for each other
Did you know that in Japan people have invented an
Agapay machine
Enabling different types of people to walk again!
A beautiful and unique piece of artwork
A design of undeniable quality
Just like each and every single one of us
So again
Agapay given time
Like a zealot for our well being
Because
We are worth it!
An invisible mending
So that all our days are spent with the family of loved
ones
As someone once said:
We are all made of carbon
So try and be more like a diamond than a piece of coal!
Ie / Sheffield, June 2023
