Category Archives: Fiction

To walk visible…at last

Was your fierce teenage femininity woken up and crystallised by Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights”? Mine certainly was. I know I’ve thought of re-reading “Wuthering Heights” many times over the years – what stopped me, caused hesitation? Did I fear disappointment with what engaged me so as a girl like when you try to visit the most magical books of childhood and they’re just not the same, am I more squeamish of the dark than I used to be, or was it the thought of comparison…with where I am now…that I most dreaded? For, where is my inner Cathy, where are my wild moors; have I sold my life out to the Lintons, made nice and put wild plaything away? Or am I still promising them to myself “tomorrow”? Continue reading

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Curiosity killed the joy

What happens when we start to consider that there can be many truths, all at the same time. After all, life is never a single, simple thread; everything we release into it becomes woven into a dense tapestry of other people and events and yet only we each get to choose which is our still-relatable thread to follow. No one else can come along and unpick or reclaim that thread as more-rightfully theirs, or even snip it out as though it never existed or was “wrong”, which is how we mess-up when we attempt to post-mortem anything that happened “in the past”. As we pull away at “what was”, there is always the risk that unpicking one part of the tapestry to make ourselves feel better will cause other things to fall apart for others…perhaps necessarily so in cases where something continues to be harmfully distorted to this day, but quite unnecessary in others, so this need to be a very conscious and considered choice… Continue reading

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Being the rainbow bridge

When we reach out our arms and embrace the broken aspect of the masculine, we bring it home to ourselves and the feminine values that are so needed by this world in order for us to move on together, intermingled as the best of both masculine and feminine qualities, as one unit. When we do this, we allow the masculine to dare to come home to the ever present embrace of the feminine, not to build up its walls of resistance even stronger against it. It is sad, yes, that so often the masculine has to be broken before it will come home in this way; but let it be broken only because of its own doings, not because the feminine contributed to that (which is not what the feminine is about anyway). As such, we all get to be the rainbow rather than chasing down its mythical ending (something I pondered just a few days ago  as I was travelling home along a road arced by a rainbow, wondering which end the pot of gold was meant to be at; surely when we realise it is to be found at both ends, the whole of its bridge, joining one place to another, becomes that long sought-after gold). When we are the rainbow ourselves, rather than seeking it externally, we incorporate the best of both worlds…as ourselves; which makes it less of a destination than a state we get to be in, all of the time.

Rediscovering the much-needed rainbow bridge that I describe as it is so beautifully conveyed in a hundred year old “parable” of our times: E. M Forster’s “Howard’s End”. Continue reading

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Now is the time…

I loved this novel so much and, like all the best and most timely reads, I chose it almost by accident, feeling my way into the author via a particular root I was following (“root” feels like exactly the right … Continue reading

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Healing the world

Having returned from Paris just a week or so ago, I expected my next post to be a sharing of some of the wonderfully idiosyncratic traits of this favourite city of mine as captured in some of my (many) photographs…and … Continue reading

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Love, light and Italy

Have just spent the third evening of the month of May enjoying the film of the 1922 novel by Elizabeth Von Arnim entitled “The Enchanted April“…and so am a little too late to achieve the synchronistic timing of an April viewing … Continue reading

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Eat Pray Love – an inner journey compared

Its been a while since I reviewed a book although this is no reflection of how many I’ve read of late because, in truth, I am reading more prolifically than ever, sometimes keeping abreast of up to 4 books (fiction … Continue reading

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Vignamaggio: Much Ado About Mona Lisa’s garden and a little slice of heaven

Vignamaggio: Fourteenth century Renaissance villa with breathtaking gardens set amidst the vines and olive groves that serve its own award-winning wine and its olive oil production. Also, reputedly, the birthplace of the possessor of that world-famous enigmatic smile, Leonardo da … Continue reading

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Poetic licence – literature into song

I’m always vaguely suspicious when I hear of a project that involves converting one art form into another, especially if “the original” holds nostalgic sway over me for one reason or another. After all,  it can be dangerous territory for … Continue reading

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Why I LOVE my Kindle

You know the old adage; what starts out as absolute loathing for someone or something turns into true love and happy-ever-after, a match made in heaven. It’s often the case that something you think you hate the very idea of becomes … Continue reading

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