Falling

My Grandma was once a fallen woman. She used to giggle about it and invite her fallen friends round to swap notes. A gaggle of Octogenarians showing off their cuts and bruises from recent trips, bemoaning dodgy hips and osteoporosis. The plight of getting older and easily, and unelegantly, falling over.

That wasn't quite what I had in mind with this falling woman thing. Though I miss the mirth of Grandma (who'd be nearly 110 now, had she not gone way beyond it back in '98). And am smiling as I write this, thinking of her.

Here's more of what I'm thinking....

So a letting go. And falling upwards. Trusting the process. Not trying to hold it together but learning instead to be held. In what increasingly feels like uncertain and unknown spaces. The older I get and the more travelled I've become, weirdly.

Which all sounds a bit Out There I guess. A bit unrooted and nebulous. Hence this blog and just wanting to ground things in words and pictures. Seeing this whole falling thing as an adventure into the unknown. And making notes as I go.

A huge inspiration so far has been Richard Rohr's book "Falling Upward". All about embracing the second half of life in all its spiritual richness. Thanks to Grandma who got to 91, only now, in my mid 40s, am I facing the fact that I'm in the second half of life. A shock and a relief in equal measure.

So this book. Worth a read.....

"Richard Rohr has given us a perfect guide to what he calls the 'further journey,' a voyage into the mystery and beauty of healthy spiritual maturity."
-Mehmet Oz, M.D., host of The Dr. Oz Show

Mystery. Beauty. Healthy. Maturity. Lovely words. Tricky to work with. Trickier to live out. But here goes anyway...... 

Hull

When I last blogged I was "Running Up Waterfalls" in Cambodia. Now, three years later, I'm in Hull. Where there's lots of water but not so much of the falling kind. More of the flat. And muddy.

Which is a relief if I'm honest. A relief to be in a flat place. Where there's massive skies and space. Where it's not about running and going against the flow but more about just being and going slow. Feeling the mud in my toes. Loving the views. Breathing deeply. Turning up. Joining in. Gently enjoying a new/old belonging.

Now feels like a gathering, grounding time. A time to gather and ground thoughts especially. In writing, painting, films maybe. See what happens. I'm just glad to have got this blog going, finally. And have somewhere to put things, as and when they come. Wahoooo.

The past few years have been quite a time. With things coming to an end in Cambodia (Dec 2015) and transitioning to life back in the UK. First off on the Isle of Wight and now in Hull. Both safe harbours. Familiar and friendly. Places to rest and reflect and look out to sea. Where it's OK to feel beyond it. And where there's beauty enough to see beyond it. And begin to dream again.

Not that things ended badly in Cambodia. As endings go it was pretty good. One of the best. A very natural, obvious, it's-time-to-go-now end. When the work I'd been involved with was being done, better than I ever could or would, by Cambodians. When friendships were good and community, real. When the arts centre I'd wondered about would happen, in its time, through the ministry of a fellow creative and friend. And when people got me enough to help me put a book together:

So a very good ending. Joyful, big-hearted and productive. And lots of great memories. With a few bad endings under my belt, or at least not quite as seamless, I've appreciated the peace it's brought to this new season. There's been a huge feeling of fondness for Cambodia but not a longing to be back there. I've been able to be here and not there more fully than in past transitions. For which I'm proper thankful. 

Am sure there's posts to come with Cambodian tales to tell. It was a rich and wonderful time. But for now, Hull! The title of this post. I'm in Hull now! City of Culture 2017. Whodathought. 

I've been coming to this place since I was 16. Since meeting up with a crowd of Hullites at Greenbelt and coming up to stay. Since the days of "Spiders", pints of Pink Pugslies and Tarantualas, Mousefolk at the Adelphi, Captain Sensible in East Park - the thrill of catching his beret when he threw it into the crowd.

Thirty (!!) years later - hello, again, Hull! 

Hello again since the last time I lived here - 2000-08 - and the times I visited before - 1987, 88 and 89. Hello again since the times I dropped in during my South-East Asian sojourn these past few years. Hello hello hello. I. Am. Here. In Hull. And it's time to get writing. Hallelu.