Happy Mother’s Day, soundtrack: Thinking Out Loud

There’s a video I want to make to the song “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran.

When your legs don’t work like they used to before
And I can’t sweep you off of your feet

Video of a little girl taking her first steps, fading into her being swept up and spun around by her mother, both laughing

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?
Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

A baby nursing, then smiling and laughing as a toddler

And, darling, I will be loving you ’til we’re 70
And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23

An older woman, hugging her grown daughter, fading into helping her daughter straighten her veil and gown at her wedding

And I’m thinking ’bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways
Maybe just the touch of a hand
Well, me – I fall in love with you every single day
And I just wanna tell you I am

A baby, grasping her mother’s finger with a tiny hand, scenes of a mother and her daughter playing and walking together through all seasons and stages of the daughter’s life

So honey now
Take me into your loving arms

Child throwing her arms around her mother’s neck

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
Place your head on my beating heart
I’m thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are

A mother and her children looking at constellations, them climbing into her lap, kissing her cheek, and resting heads on her breast, hold scene with her arms around her children and all smiling

When my hair’s all but gone and my memory fades
And the crowds don’t remember my name

A very old woman, looking at photo albums of her life and her children as they grew up

When my hands don’t play the strings the same way (mmm…)
I know you will still love me the same

A mother playing guitar for her children

‘Cause honey your soul could never grow old, it’s evergreen
And, baby, your smile’s forever in my mind and memory

Children, an older girl and younger boy, playing and smiling and running and laughing

I’m thinking ’bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways
Maybe it’s all part of a plan

A girl holding her new baby brother for the first time, her mother helping and showing her how, scene lingers on their expressions

Well, I’ll just keep on making the same mistakes
Hoping that you’ll understand

Mother trying to help her children with a project and it collapsing/breaking/dramatically not working, tears (from the mother as well) and hugs and trying again

That, baby, now
Take me into your loving arms
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
Place your head on my beating heart
Thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are (oh ohh)

Children pulling their mother outside to see a meteor shower, hugging her while all watch the showers, her showing them how to close eyes and make a wish, her arms around them and kissing their hair, them leaning against her

So, baby, now
Take me into your loving arms
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart
I’m thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are
Oh, baby, we found love right where we are
And we found love right where we are

A sofa, daybed, or bed, children in pyjamas cuddling up to their mother as she reads to them; they climb into her lap, rest their heads on her breast and fall asleep contentedly as she holds them and bows her head over them, smiling.

Happy Mother’s Day.

 

 

 

“Thinking Out Loud” (c) 2014 Ed Sheeran and Amy Wadge

“Happy Mother’s Day, soundtrack: Thinking Out Loud” All rights reserved (c) 2015 Caroline Bailey

 

Rainbow Connection

Watching “Thor”. They gallop out of Asgard across the Rainbow Bridge…

Rainbow Bridge… also the bridge to the Summerlands…

…other worlds…

…Rainbow Connection is quantum resonance between people and events and planes and connects things…

…quantum resonance fields tuned and matched to be portals… bridges between worlds…

…Rainbow Bridges…

…fuck. This makes sense.

I’m very tired.

Pictures #3 – Probably not a barn.

A quiet space, maybe a barn, maybe somewhere else. A horse, large, black, and and strong, at rest, eyes closed. On his back a cat curled up, eyes mostly closed in contentment, purring. A scene that is familiar to anyone who’s had horses and barn cats, very likely; warm and quiet and calm, companions at peace with each other and the world.

Shift a little. In the half-light the horse’s eyes are open… and you see suddenly that they’re glowing red, now and then flashing gold. Nothing else has changed about the scene, but you recognize this, somewhere in your mind, in recesses of memory and myth. The old tales start coming to mind, and you shiver uneasily and wonder where, and when, you really are.

Shift a little. The horse’s eyes are closed, but the cat’s are open and she is looking directly at you. Somehow her gaze is more unnerving than the previous shift. There is a sensation of movement in the shadows at the edges of the picture, but when you look more closely there’s nothing except the cat. Watching.

Shift a little. Both horse and cat are awake. Do you want to be the focus of their attention? Think carefully. Examine your conscience.

Where are they looking? What has their attention?

Is it safe?

Is it you?

Shout out

Let me just stop here and say something.

I have some truly amazing friends.

One of them in particular has really been there for me lately. He is funny, in my IQ range, sweet, interesting, caring, supportive, and gives the most amazing hugs…! I trust him and I’m comfortable with him on levels that pretty much no one can access, and he is the person I turn to when I need to talk something over and get a gauge on things, and he tends toward being my accomplice in shenanigans. He is incredibly fun to be around and it always brightens my week if I know our paths will cross. He makes me laugh daily, and he’s pretty damn easy on the eyes on top of it all. And he GETS me, and keeps surprising me with that.

He deserves a serious shout-out.

Thank you. You know who you are.

Well well well!

Well! That’s a surprise. Congratulations to my son’s father, M V, and his new spouse “B”, nee M—-. I was just informed via email this evening of the marriage; I do believe they met at his sister’s wedding that changed the child policy at the last minute to exclude my newborn son (she was interpreting for the MoH, who is Deaf), so I have not had a chance to meet the woman who has apparently been around my son frequently – despite the agreement that M and I had to introduce serious significant others to each other before taking any steps. Sadly, my children seem to have been told not to speak of her to me; this is rather disturbing, as a similar request was made to my daughter that resulted in the complicated state of affairs in which she and I currently are.

Congratulations, dears, in true Southern style! I look forward to tea with my son’s father’s SO. I’m so sorry that you missed out on the chance to have the cutest ring bearer ever, and flower girl as well in his big sister.

Stalking fail.

Hi.  I know you’re reading my blog again, trying to find things to make me look bad.  I can see what you read, I can see what you come back to, and I can see really obvious patterns.  I’ve seen them before.

Facebook algorithms also have a few little quirks that can show you when someone you otherwise have no connection with and never mention anywhere is visiting your Wall a lot.    

Please find a new hobby.  

In memory of Maya

Triggered by a misspelling on someone’s post.  It’s a common one and a bugbear, but looked at another way it could almost fit.

Sorry, I’m not great at poetry.

 

Loosing all our greats now
To the sky, the wind
Their essence free from flesh and chains
Loosing their souls to the universe to fly forever
And become, perhaps, the mote of a hint of inspiration
To someone else
Who can teach us to loose the constraints
And soar free ourselves

Mosaics

I know better than to learn about other people.

The details, the little things, the tiny components that make up who they are.

Someone’s tattoos all being Celtic in theme.

Someone singing one of my favorite styles of music in their youth.

Someone’s monthly blood donations… always at the children’s hospital, never anywhere else.

Someone’s secret passion for a particular author.

Someone finding love and peace and faith after most of a lifetime of hell.

Someone’s joy in their child nestling to sleep in their arms.

Someone’s delight in finding an unknown connection with a stranger who becomes a new friend.

Little things.

Components, colored pieces that make up the mosaics of people.  These little things are what fascinate me about people; I love them.  And in turn, I love the people with them.  It becomes overwhelming, not because it’s hard to love so many, but because of the heartbreak that inevitably happens.  People leave, they die, they withdraw, they vanish with or without warning or reason.

If I seem cold sometimes, uninterested in others, it’s not because I truly am uninterested.  It’s because I am passionately interested, and I know that anything and everything I learn I will love, and I will love everyone — friends, lovers, acquaintances, neighbors, strangers buying milk in the store at 2:30 in the afternoon with three children in tow and an absentminded kiss or caress for each of them, folk holding a door in the rain for someone they’ve never met before and will never meet again.

I cannot handle my heart being broken again.  If I notice you, no matter who you are, I will learn about you, and I will love you, and I know that you will break my heart.  So I deliberately blind myself, I don’t look, to try to save what I can of myself.  I try not to look, so that my heart doesn’t shatter again into the pieces that make up the mosaics of everyone I have ever learned of in all my years.

ping

Every day for the last five days, and most days back until December 10th at a casual glance, there has been a hit a day on this blog.

 

Just one.  

 

Every day.

 

Who are you?  What are you looking for?  What have you found that speaks to you?  What are you rereading?

 

Talk to me.  Let’s make this a conversation.

Midwifery in dreams.

I woke up at 6:30am this morning from a very detailed dream.  I was at at an office or hotel or resort or something (spa resort?  Who knows) with conifers around.  There was a pregnant woman who went into labor; she was younger, brown hair, and frightened.  There was a midwife around, but she seemed less involved in things and I got the impression she was more inclined to call an OB/surgeon.  The impending mother went to lie down on her back and I told her that she didn’t need to do that, to move around as she was comfortable, and I would stay with her.  She did so, spent some time on all fours, and then abruptly moved to a crouch; she was sort of on a low platform/table thing, and I was on the actual floor.  The baby started to be born, a boy — frank breech.  I remembered what I knew about birthing breech babies and simply held my hands under to catch him, and coached the mother through the last push.  The baby was born in caul (membranes intact), and I held him up to his mother.  His eyes were open, he was calm, and he seemed to be returning her kiss.  I parted the membrane over his face so that he could start breathing (umbilical still attached, not cut) and told his mother that she should feel proud and not afraid because she had just given birth to a healthy baby boy… breech and unmedicated and with no problems.  I made a comment to the midwife (who had been standing back and watching) that OBs really need to be trained in delivering breech again, since it’s not that hard.  I then stepped back and realised that this was the first birth that I had attended/midwifed myself (besides my own), and it was an uneventful breech, and was very pleased with and proud of myself.  The entire end of things was joyful and calm and happy, and I woke smiling.

A second dream after I went back to sleep involved me somehow talking to the baby himself, from a perspective inside the uterus.  I told him to remember to keep his chin tucked down and everything would be okay; he was very happy and looking forward to being born.  I reminded him to keep his chin tucked, and a few minutes after that he was being born.  

A very odd pair of dreams, but I do think that if I tire of satellites I may switch to midwifery.

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