Letter to a friend:

Won't get into a competition with you about who is worse : )  We are equally bad ... and equally good, methinks.    Suspect we're both subject to that continuously criticizing voice within  (where did that come from?  My parents, although not perfect, didn't belittle me.  Is it our western christian, therefore guilt-based society which gives birth to the inner critic?.... and does it matter?)

Met the little guy when Richard and I had lunch with them last week.  Hadn't seen P in such a long time.   He looked well.  Lunch was great as always.  Loved the pond.  Donated a few goldfish which promptly went and hid under rocks.  Caught up with Jack the cockatoo.  Still miss him but so glad he's glad.  He's a happy bird now.  Great to see Cambridge on 'this side' of the aviary rather than always at the far end.  Richard and L talked Tai Chi (Richard has been to his second class.  He also fasted with me that Monday.  He won't admit something's going on but his openness to trying things which might help brain function is telling).  Anyway, the property looked stunning as always.  Wattles in bloom everywhere.  Was a lovely couple of hours.

But it isn't the same without you there.  P's stamp is more visible, as it should be- but sad all the same.  And sadly you sound somewhat melancholy, G.  Wish I had some wise words to help you through this but only you and P have the answers, if answers are even needed.  Perhaps living day to day IS the answer.  If you need to do something you'll know it.  And act upon it too.  You don't lack courage. 

Had occasion to reflect upon the nature of grief and guilt the other day.  We lost our little cockatiel Tachimedes.  Noticed he was a bit lacklustre and his poos had gone green and runny so put him on coccivet.  Worse the next day so direct dosed the coccivet.  The following day acutely ill with gurgly breathing.  Rang Karen and put him on Baytril but he died late morning.  The guilt stems from hindsight,  from not noticing little things which I should've paid attention to but that I didn't SEE (not being mindful, aware, HERE).  His death was unnecessary.  He was only 5 years old.  The grief, well you know far too well the grieving part.  So while crying from shame and loss a part of me stood back and watched and thought completely unrelated thoughts, like when will I have cried enough to assuage the guilt I feel.  When will I have cried enough to meet the inner criterion of grieving?  It was quite an odd experience.  Having grieved so many times over so many things...the feelings were real yet also just a familiar process that didn't touch the true reality of things - does that make any sense at all? 

Hours later:

We went to Spring Bluff for coffee.  Richard ate a caramel macadamia nut coated bit of slice with whipped cream and is now sick in bed.  Too rich.   Odd how one's digestion becomes used to good food and can't handle the other stuff anymore.  He'll come good in time. 

Ah, the ballet.  Ah, Warhorse.  Ah, David Helfgott.  Lucky you.  Especially the ballet.  I love ballet.  In my next life I'm going to be small boned, petite and live near a ballet school.  Took it up at age 44 but couldn't handle the leaps.  Dang.

Anyway, best go and do some chores, quietly, while Richard recovers.  I hope you come see us when you're at Long Grass for those 3 days (or before!).  Richard goes to the States on the 21st September, returns October 2.  Not much time but as he's going with Anthony, that's all the time he gets.

Saw an old Errol Flynn movie, Robin Hood, the other day.  In it he laughs at the Sherriff of Nottingham, a big rollicking hands on hips, head thrown back sort of laugh.  What a great laugh at life sort of laugh.  I'm working at cultivating it.  You too?