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...

It has long been recognised and accepted that listening to and taking part in musical activities has an effect on our feelings and emotions.  We all have pieces of music or songs which reminds us of a particular event or time in our lives and most of us can recall when the hairs on the back of our neck stood up, we had goose-bumps on our arms and shivers down our spine at the musical sounds we were hearing. I am fortunate that I was brought up within a family who loved music - my father a pianist and church organist, my mother a pianist and a member of numerous choirs. I have lovely memories of singing 'around the piano', duets with my mother, especially at bath time, and my attempts at harmonising from the age of about 3 years old.  Musician Billy Joel once said "I think music itself is healing. It is an explosive expression of humanity and something we are all touched by. No matter the culture, we all love music". Most of us, I'm sure, agree with this statement ...

Awakening each day from drug induced sleep, the terrors of the night scroll through your brain as you begin to surface from the torpor of semi-consciousness. Each fragment of the dormant state that whiled away some hours in physical inactivity begins it's struggle to be foremost in this heightening of lucidity. Your ability to become fully alert restricted by a lethargy that lingers till each wave of worry starts it's journey heightening the sense of dread, without clear reason. A longing to return to sleep becomes unbearable with each grasping, clinging thought, yet what the coming horrors may be stay hidden in the recesses of the soul.