Write-Place

I had barely written the opening line to a new blog post, way back at the beginning of November  with appropriate links to past posts on a similar subject  - "Time for a post to prove to myself that I am still able to write a few coherent paragraphs, as I am feeling better than I did yesterday" ...  when  I became very poorly, physically and mentally and was barely able to function in the most basic and fundamental of  human actions. The reason, which knowing me or from reading this blog is not difficult to understand   - I had stopped taking my prescribed medication; yes again. (see links at end of post) The reasons for doing so are predictable (for me and for many others I have discussed this with). I was fine. My diet and lifestyle was healthy. I ate vegetarian and organic, drank teas made from herbs grown in my own garden, used home made soaps, laundry, home cleaners and toiletries which were "Free From All Nasties and Natural". I wanted, again, to erase as many

Reblogged from April 2010 Not much topical, intellectual or discussable stuff in my mind at the moment (well, not that I can blog about anyway )so here's a piece to keep the blog on a "writing" theme. The title could be substituted for "Empty Brain" if wanted. Empty  Rooms  In the silence of another sleepless night  with shadows from the moon’s pale light  Blues and blacks shine through the window pane Like shadows calling out your name. And did you ever know That though you said that you would go I never thought it would be so. I watch the moonlight in the place where colours once bathed around your face And fragrant flowers are in the air The scent is here though you’re not there. And I wonder if you know That I never thought you’d go But you did and it is so. Morning comes with no regret of  memories I can't forget. Empty rooms and I climb the stairs where clothes lie draped on empty chairs. And I wonder if you knew how I always understood that although y

 So, if you hadn't realised - like me who didn't until I checked the calendar for my dogs grooming appointment - today is an 'extra' day, this being a Leap Year.  One solar year, the amount of time it takes our planet to complete one full rotation about the sun,  takes roughly 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds. That extra five-plus hours  is why we have leap years. Yes, of course I looked it up - my retention of information these days  and memory in general, is poor to say the least. Why this is the case for me is plain, but why people much younger than me also find their memory is not as clear as it once was.  Many reasons for this could be discussed, but that is a topic for a different post. Every four years is not always a Leap Year apparently. According to  the  National Air and Space Agency   (United States), in a calendar yet to come, years divisible by 100 would not follow the four year leap day rule unless they are also divisible by 400 . In the past

Spiral    Linearity does not come naturally. It kills the imagination and nothing happens.  No bell rings, no moment of here and now, no moment saying yes. Without these, where is alive ? I prefer the pleasure of the journey through the spiral. Relax.  If you miss something on the first time around, don't worry. You might pick it up on the second - or third - or tenth ; it doesn't matter. Relax.      Timing is everything. If the bell does ring, it will resonate through all the rungs of your spiral.  If it doesn't it is the wrong spiral - or the wrong time -  or there is no bell.

  The Nakba - the "disaster" or "catastrophe" was the destruction of Palestinian society and homeland in 1948 and the permanent displacement of Palestinian Arabs. The term is used to describe both the events of 1948 and the ongoing occupation of Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip, as well as their displacement in refugee camps throughout the region and beyond. The Nakba was the result of the partition of Mandatory Palestine after World War Two ended as the United Nations and world powers realigned the borders of the Middle East.  The following story is by Neveen Abuelola, my 'step -niece' through marriage. I am reblogging this from when she first wrote it, around 2012 I am Neveen. I am Palestinian. This is my sto­­ry. This is the Palestinian Story. I'd like to take you back to 64 years ago, to the fertile rolling hills of Palestine. To the land of orange, lemon and olive trees, to around mid May1948. My Grandmother, heavily pregnant qu