tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13947958285217789912024-02-08T02:46:06.769+00:00Searching for More...'My hands are my source. They destroy, form and cross bridges - they clarify knowledge and give meaning to my voice which is sometimes weak with hurt, sometimes strong from joy' ~ extract taken from, 'And So I Sit'.
Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-60484794480399430442022-10-08T14:14:00.010+01:002022-12-26T21:55:08.473+00:00How else do I describe? - Poem<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73b_ikv5hYVpsHz7arqONS0KFxB4N1PvY3fpXsYpeOlaA9sqxIzo9dvCgspde4lQ8lR0hgR756mymMAS0Rg4XpQhe4FMFy4heS1CFi54q7xf7brUxH1XImFxjE1tU3MRUsnbFNEK8nMUD7cuBHKy0KVdsnf76Owo8I8cEH5vk9cDfvbqxgg5lILV6xg/s2592/IMG_20210522_173502282.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73b_ikv5hYVpsHz7arqONS0KFxB4N1PvY3fpXsYpeOlaA9sqxIzo9dvCgspde4lQ8lR0hgR756mymMAS0Rg4XpQhe4FMFy4heS1CFi54q7xf7brUxH1XImFxjE1tU3MRUsnbFNEK8nMUD7cuBHKy0KVdsnf76Owo8I8cEH5vk9cDfvbqxgg5lILV6xg/s320/IMG_20210522_173502282.jpg" width="320"></a></div><br><div style="text-align: center;">I am the one I have been waiting for, </div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">There was no recognition before now. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It's just language is so limited, </p><p style="text-align: center;">there is no I... </p><p style="text-align: center;">How else to describe this physical form? </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br></p><p style="text-align: center;">In silence there's experience of all, </p><p style="text-align: center;">The wild energy within bursts it's banks. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Collapsing the shape of who you see, </p><p style="text-align: center;">which you believe... </p><p style="text-align: center;">How else to describe this reality? </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br></p><p style="text-align: center;">There's inherent worth in humanity, </p><p style="text-align: center;">Of being here in pure immensity. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Steeped in love, joy and blissful being, </p><p style="text-align: center;">integration... </p><p style="text-align: center;">How else to describe that 'I' is not me? </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br></p><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Please follow me here...<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Twitter:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Facebook:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p>Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-23286686572588657892021-09-25T19:32:00.008+01:002021-09-26T19:56:35.392+01:00Stronger - Blog Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiult1fIOBPPi_GkQGmKwHy1hh3W7bAAT1QHmwnsojMocEqCPyQ6oSGNyUJxm9LKRbjJa-TCJJ8HByCgt4JIM1h49kZe07wVdJCxrEx11llN2c_4fjER5VJPVPxT7WuvyF7QeRw_EyuhHUf/s1776/Screenshot_20210904-230625%257E2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="1776" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiult1fIOBPPi_GkQGmKwHy1hh3W7bAAT1QHmwnsojMocEqCPyQ6oSGNyUJxm9LKRbjJa-TCJJ8HByCgt4JIM1h49kZe07wVdJCxrEx11llN2c_4fjER5VJPVPxT7WuvyF7QeRw_EyuhHUf/w386-h182/Screenshot_20210904-230625%257E2.png" width="386"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>There was a moment the other day where I felt peace, warmth and happiness. I was alone and had taken the time to cook myself food, allowed myself to nestle in blankets and feel warm. I had cocooned myself and felt safe - safer than I have felt in a long time. <div><br></div><div>My shoulders dropped, jaw loosened, belly softened and I felt no need to be anywhere else. I was content to be with me, in my skin, by myself. </div><div><br></div><div>For so long I have been fighting and trying to place pieces together that do not fit. </div><div><br></div><div>In the name of what?</div><div><br></div><div>Safety.</div><div><br></div><div>Security.</div><div><br></div><div>Companionship. </div><div><br></div><div>What I thought was love.</div><div><br></div><div>I have been on these ancient lands of the United Kingdom these past 10 years and what have I experienced? </div><div><br></div><div>Two relationships and separations, four babies I never met, one wedding, one impending divorce, homes in five different areas, two countries, six jobs, 10 homes, two nephews born, two cars, seven holidays, eight housemates, nine bonfire nights, one pandemic, one Brexit, two Vipassana courses, countless new friends, laughter, festivals, dinners, sunsets, sun and moon rises, shamanic journeys, clients, plants, train/bus/coach/plane/car journeys, mountains climbed, seas, rivers and lakes swam in, songs sang and danced to and warm baths. So many cuddles, kisses, saying, 'I love you', yogic moments, walks, deer spotting, drums played, meals cooked and received, miles driven, flat-pack furniture bought and put together, tears shed, therapy sessions, smiles given and received, deep conversations, cacao and other plant ceremonies, essays written, feelings of alignment and disconnection, pictures painted, poems written and nature constantly, constantly, communicating with me. So much love, happiness and sadness wrapped in a decade, all in the quest to know and understand myself better - this spirit within this human body I inhabit. </div><div><br></div><div>My only constant is that I have consistently been on the move and that I have lived and loved with my whole heart.</div><div><br></div><div>I remember when I came for my Social Work interview in Brighton and afterwards eating in a noodle bar. I thought to myself, I wonder what I will experience if I take this step? Never, not in a million years, did I believe I would have done everything I have done and met some of the most amazing, delicious people to grace this planet, some of whom will be life long friends. </div><div><br></div><div>And I am planning to move again - this time with the intent to root and slow down, in a space I can call mine. So I no longer feel like I am tumbling, buffeted by the wind, with no safety net, where I can continue to feel this peace, stability, safety and security whilst feeling rooted within. </div><div><br></div><div>So may it be. </div><div><br></div><div>I look forward to seeing what the next decade will bring...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{103}" paraid="1102986805" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span></span></div><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{103}" paraid="1102986805" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">You can read other blog posts here: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Blog%20Post" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; user-select: text;" target="_blank"><span class="TextRun Underlined SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="color: #0563c1; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW77181626" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Gracie's blog posts</span></span></a><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":288}" style="font-size: 12pt; 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line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></span></div></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{118}" paraid="1336497435" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">T</span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">witter: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; 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padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Facebook: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; user-select: text;" target="_blank"><span class="TextRun Underlined SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="color: #0563c1; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW77181626" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Gracie's FB page</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span></span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":288}" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></span></div></div></div><div><br></div>Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-53347397332802284302021-09-09T20:30:00.009+01:002022-05-13T15:20:15.203+01:00You would - Blog Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4U8qtzkRScD7u9TYdvJ3_gEvVOaowLlirJQPHXtGLlATK-G5I5FKeV_B3izAN3Rvi-wmgFcJu38a8pzmQF8qHZRVlXbliF2nyiQv07vj7lyfwDCxwFxldU46AFkN1z1_KwBI-G6MaTpp/s2048/wedding-70.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4U8qtzkRScD7u9TYdvJ3_gEvVOaowLlirJQPHXtGLlATK-G5I5FKeV_B3izAN3Rvi-wmgFcJu38a8pzmQF8qHZRVlXbliF2nyiQv07vj7lyfwDCxwFxldU46AFkN1z1_KwBI-G6MaTpp/s320/wedding-70.jpg" width="213"></a></div><br><p>I think one of the reasons I keep this blog is just so I can remember as I get older. I am not sure if anyone even reads these words, but sometimes I go through my stories, poems and blog posts just so I can recreate that moment in my mind and really honour the memory.</p><p>In the last few years, I haven't written that much. To be honest, there have been some days where just getting through the day was accomplishment enough. Yet somehow, I long to sparkle through the written word again, I ache to feel the magic in my hands as prose, poetry, content and form just flow through me, as if I were a servant to the creative process. I know now that it needs to be as much of a discipline than a joy as time and motivation can be subsumed by hot Epsom salt baths and Netflix.</p><p>And what of now? What is the memory I wish to capture as I live the contrast of experience? I need to somehow capture a little before you become sepia toned and just another story to my cannon. </p><p><br></p><p>I miss you.</p><p>There are songs I cannot listen to, places I cannot visit, memories I cannot recount and there's this emptiness in my belly that used to be filled by the sound of your voice, the experience of your touch and the warmth of your body as you would pull me in and spoon me all through the night. I felt secure in your presence, safe in your arms and as we would hug, snuggle and nestle in, it felt warm and tender. The love was soft, quiet and gentle.</p><p>You would let me sit on your knees if I came into your office, even though there were other chairs, and we would share our day - we would share the highs and lows, accomplishments, achievements and areas of growth. We would laugh or commiserate with one another and then follow it up with either a walk or dinner or both. The love was routine, mundane and secure. </p><p>You would look deeply into my hazels with your greens and I would sink into your gaze. There were times when you looked so inviting, warm and sparkling. You would talk about your truth, perception and views with such passion, so focused on your calling, community and goals. No one and nothing would ever stop you from fulfilling your path. The love was fierce, directed and strong. </p><p>You would sometimes pick me up in the car and always had a snack in case I got hungry. You'd send me sweaty post workout pictures and be so proud when you had accomplished something. You would have dinner and Netflix waiting, always so tasty and satisfying. You would let me stroke and scratch your beard. The love was protective, caring and comforting.</p><p>You would set up camp, drive the car, save the spiders and drink cacao. You would joke around but never let me win at Scrabble. You would use your drill, put up my pictures and let me choose where they should hang. You would make the best desserts, especially when I couldn't. You would laugh until your stomach ached when we played 'Cards Against Humanity'. You would cry at all the films. The love was sweet, innocent and joyous.</p><p>You would get a bowl when I was nauseous and let me watch my shows in bed for days and days. You bought me the best present for my birthdays. You would read to me and let me fall asleep in your arms. You would watch fireworks from the bedroom window and take me to the best bonfires if I could make it. You would put your hand down the toilet bowl if needed and stop the car if the road was too bumpy. You laughed at my drug induced humour after the operation and held me close when the tears flowed. The love was unexpected, warm and subtle.</p><p>Hands down - our weddings were some of the best days of my life so far. </p><p>I miss you.</p><p><br></p><div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{103}" paraid="1102986805" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">You can read other blog posts here: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Blog%20Post" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; 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margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{116}" paraid="1248442309" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Follow me here...</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":288}" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></span></div></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{118}" paraid="1336497435" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">T</span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">witter: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; user-select: text;" target="_blank"><span class="TextRun Underlined SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="color: #0563c1; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW77181626" style="margin: 0px; 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line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Facebook: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; user-select: text;" target="_blank"><span class="TextRun Underlined SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="color: #0563c1; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW77181626" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Gracie's FB page</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span></span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":288}" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></span></div></div><p><br></p><p><br></p>Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-31408322842161585652021-08-31T19:24:00.018+01:002022-10-09T09:18:30.136+01:00The Dark - Poem<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkstCwuz8quf-wFBlZACCvYlO0YvdlVyeU8pElTV2fJAv9Ld9jKIgN0vs11FNJNOv7jh8h5b6Rl9jyKPyqBi9mPd1NuMrqEWfS-ePFv_c-t9qt-vMp4n8QreAzchSgdS2VYwRgpVDUcxZ/s1280/fire-415734_1280.jpg" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkstCwuz8quf-wFBlZACCvYlO0YvdlVyeU8pElTV2fJAv9Ld9jKIgN0vs11FNJNOv7jh8h5b6Rl9jyKPyqBi9mPd1NuMrqEWfS-ePFv_c-t9qt-vMp4n8QreAzchSgdS2VYwRgpVDUcxZ/w400-h225/fire-415734_1280.jpg" width="400"></a></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"></p><h2 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span>Do you feel what is happening
here?<br></span><span>I feel it<br></span><span>Show me your fire<br></span><span>And I will show you mine<br></span><span>The night is dark, soft,
inviting<br></span><span>Words take over<br></span><span>From what could either be<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">a divinely inspired union<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">or complete insanity<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Whilst in the dark neither of us care
which<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Memories weave magic<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">'Do you remember?'<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yes, do you?<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yes<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> <br></o:p></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">First a pulse and
then energy<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Over a distance, considered
erotic<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">‘Place your hands
on the table’<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Which I thought had
been done<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">long ago<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It’s all about the
moment<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">who<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I feel<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Understanding the
multiple self<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Whilst in the dark
neither of us cared,<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Our selves felt
safe<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You missed the
train and fell in love<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Without telling me.<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">'Come here.'<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> <br></o:p></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Some tingling and
then a spark<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Meeting a big time
CEO<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Whilst camping and throwing
javelin.<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It’s like reading a
map<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And once I found it<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Game on<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When I emerged from
retreat<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You licked me clean.<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Whilst in the dark
neither of us cared<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">About the light of
day<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You wore my
knickers<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And would do it
again<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One little tiny phone call<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">'Just to hear.'<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> <br></o:p></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Burning, heat and
flame<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We will be
connected<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Forever<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">That’s just how it is<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">For me<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">'So tell me again...'<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wild style intoxication<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Pouncing like a
tiger, not a kitten.<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Whilst in the dark
neither of us cared<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">about the loss of
control<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I had a really
great time<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It was totally fun<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You were enough,<br></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You were more than
enough.</span></span></h2><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><br></p><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Please follow me here...<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Twitter:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Facebook:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-42206157670128017872020-12-31T22:33:00.002+00:002021-03-21T11:45:53.339+00:00Shame - Poem<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLr4hmzE75qOWBMYjhIPtfGpdSSQ2Z5ujEB3NfpHOsc8-NwbNU0dSX_WMzilqgUaEmfqN9MLKwckHJezsaFNzG4oGzX6vojhmdkvaKaltuLs_xPPdWkAeeXhbIK5TyCEIfufP379353UGP/s669/IMG-20200418-WA0092.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="669" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLr4hmzE75qOWBMYjhIPtfGpdSSQ2Z5ujEB3NfpHOsc8-NwbNU0dSX_WMzilqgUaEmfqN9MLKwckHJezsaFNzG4oGzX6vojhmdkvaKaltuLs_xPPdWkAeeXhbIK5TyCEIfufP379353UGP/w400-h300/IMG-20200418-WA0092.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Seeking safety I limited myself <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Believing the perils of my mind<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I burrowed deeper, dug underground<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Secured restraint, I was bound to find<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I was sure of pain, every step wrong<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">So submerged myself from the tide<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I rooted down, anchored my own<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Nestled in one spot, I tried to hide.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I felt doubt and confusion about my plan<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">But feared making any new wave<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I queried past actions, every mistake<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Thinking me lesser, someone to save.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">My feet escaped as they longed to touch earth<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">And felt safe in solid company<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">My eyes beheld trees, received their green<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Branches held me in security<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I felt water moisten my dry lips<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Nature's love was now my guide<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Fire licked the air and warmed my skin<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Lighting my path, wisdom by my side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I could see there was no safety in the small<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">I had made myself hunter’s prey<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">The fear and pain that had consumed my thoughts<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">Had never been the warrior’s way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Please follow me here...<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Twitter:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span><o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Facebook:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-34019135627345884222020-12-27T19:25:00.015+00:002020-12-28T01:13:51.128+00:00The Dance - Blog Post<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3uXq9lnXaoiQyF4RF-dBKgRAHSH5wJC0ONI1_QJJtMSs-Bpakhyshh77204w8Ud5-TD0IBBYxvY_YSWqCQrZmFc9J3Gq1hCQS0dLBgMUsTzR6r6CXUZ3LaNlTzpcv8foCOX9ciVmEpKE1/s900/frida.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3uXq9lnXaoiQyF4RF-dBKgRAHSH5wJC0ONI1_QJJtMSs-Bpakhyshh77204w8Ud5-TD0IBBYxvY_YSWqCQrZmFc9J3Gq1hCQS0dLBgMUsTzR6r6CXUZ3LaNlTzpcv8foCOX9ciVmEpKE1/w400-h320/frida.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: ProximaNova, "Noto Sans KR", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, "ヒラギノ角ゴ Pro W3", "Hiragino Kaku Gothic Pro", Osaka, メイリオ, Meiryo, "MS Pゴシック", "MS PGothic", sans-serif; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Henry Ford Hospital," Frida Kahlo, 1932, oil on Sheet Metal, 12 ½ x 15 ½ in. Collection Museo Dolores Olmedo, Xochimilco, México. © 2014 Banco de México Diego Rivera Frida Kahlo Museums Trust, Mexico, D.F. / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.</span></em></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br></div>As the pregnancy test signified Life, I swayed and revelled in her dance. I allowed Life to flow and welcomed her signs. Life caressed and soothed me, she reached out and said, 'Come, we can play this game together'.<div><br></div><div>Life was ecstatic with her creation - she cavorted, glimmered and sparkled and I was entranced. I felt her fingers stroke my skin and her body cuddle into mine. I was comforted, held and supported and she whispered to me her dreams. </div><div><br></div><div> 'This little one is forming, my darling'.</div><div><br></div><div>My body obeyed and revelled in growth - hormones increased. I swam in the nausea, my breasts became full as my belly ripened and I felt every movement as if I was swimming in water. Sickness moved me as if by tidal pull, and Life kept encouraging, 'Yes, my darling, feel everything. Feel it all'. </div><div><br></div><div>Calling to all the humans I needed, I tried to nest, to feel safe in the world. I needed to find the people who would support this pregnancy so I could meet this little one - to experience having a baby in this lifetime just. one. time.</div><div><br></div><div>And then one day at work, Death decided to visit and she called my baby's name. </div><div><br></div><div>Death sang softly and so sweetly, every note caressing the air around me. The spectral pied piper of the little womb ones. Death danced around me whilst Life started to shrivel and cry. Death shimmied, allowing her pendulous breasts to swing, and she shook her childbearing hips. Death waggled her finger and spoke to me with a smile on her lips, 'My darling, thank you for growing this little one of mine'.</div><div><br></div><div>I could see Life was helpless in the face of Death's call and could only witness the events unfolding. She watched as my baby heard and reached out in joy to suckle on her breasts, sit on her soft belly and be cradled in her sumptuous lap. Death sang, soothed and tended... whilst Life, and I, looked on in dismay.</div><div><br></div><div>My body was so full, then so empty, as I straddled and embodied Life and Death. My body understood what was happening and vomit, blood and tears seeped from me - ravaged by the loss of my little one. My husband collected my heaves, wiped the red from my legs and helped me collect the remains of our little one as I allowed the cramps to sweep my uterus, making sure Death took every last remnant. </div><div><br></div><div>Then I heard Death speak to me, 'You have given me four of your gorgeous babies and I am indebted by your kindness. I will leave you with four gifts in remembrance of your sacrifice'.</div><div><br></div><div>Death laid the gifts out in front of me, and smiled with gratefulness. </div><div><br></div><div>First of all, here is acceptance, which will also bring you peace. When you meet me without resistance, you will see I will also bring you a deep, resounding peace that will continue within you always. I know your resistance to me has devastated and exhausted you to the point that you are ready to receive this gift now. I nodded and took this gift into my hands.</div><div><br></div><div>My second gift to you is the ability to learn how to parent yourself - there is a little one within you that has waited so long for you to be able to embrace her. Now you can learn to look after her and allow her the healing she craves. This little one desires safety, comfort and love from you so very much. I understood the wisdom in these words and agreed.</div><div><br></div><div>I also allow you the capacity of compassion so that you can mother the lost ones in the world who are in desperate need of love. You are being given a limitless well of compassion so you can support others in their growth and allow them to find their own way. I took the gift without response.</div><div><br></div><div>Lastly, I bestow on you the title of 'Warrior'. A woman who has witnessed the dance of life and death of her own children she was unable to keep learns great courage and knowledge. A woman who can embody Life and Death and is able to hold them within is taught some of life's greatest secrets. There is very little in life you will be unable to handle. I bowed as I took on the title and tried to integrate this with who I think I am.</div><div><br></div><div>Death watched me receive these gifts, nodded and slowly bowed. </div><div><br></div><div>She then turned and walked away with my little one in her arms.</div><div><br></div><div> </div><div>Play free my dear Little Sprouty, play with your brothers and sisters in the spirit world - come and find me when I am ready to dance with Death once again.</div><div><br></div><div>I love you.</div><div> </div><div><br></div><div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{103}" paraid="1102986805" style="overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; 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padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Facebook: </span><a class="Hyperlink SCXW77181626" href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel" rel="noreferrer" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; user-select: text;" target="_blank"><span class="TextRun Underlined SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="color: #0563c1; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW77181626" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Gracie's FB page</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; 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***There is some swearing in this post - please do not read this if you are easily offended. It is also LONG***<br>
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This is not an exhaustive list but this is one woman's guide to friends and family on how to support a woman going through a miscarriage. It is not intended to be sweet, sanitised and light, because miscarriage is none of those things. It is not intended to save you from the messy, anger inducing, tear-fest that miscarriage is, it is meant to show you what some women may actually be needing from you. If you have a friend or a family member that is going through a miscarriage, then reading this may help in some way but understand that every woman is unique.<br>
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After saying all that - you also need to understand that number 3 is essential for every woman.<br>
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If she has just told you that she has just found out she has miscarried, then she is going through one of the biggest upheavals in her life. Not only has she lost her baby and everything that goes with that, but most likely that baby is still inside of her and she still feels pregnant.<br>
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It is likely she doesn't feel she can trust her body anymore, her hormones are freaking her out and she cries at everything. She is most likely totally heartbroken and can't find anyone in Real Life who will sit and allow her to scream, cry and express her anger and fears. She now has to either wait for an operation or for the baby, placenta, cord and blood clots to come out of her vagina. Either way it will most likely involve pain, blood, tears, pads and out of control feelings - none of these she wants. She isn't looking forward to it and the process can take some time.<br>
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<b>Things to do</b><br>
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1. Google miscarriage and what it actually entails - I highly recommend you read forums of other women who found out they miscarried and what happened to them. There are loads of forums - Mumsnet, Netmums, Baby and Bump, TheBump, Whattoexpect... the list goes on. This is where most women will flee to and ask questions, get advice and find out about support. They are a lifesaver. Learn about what she is going through before you ask her any questions - she is not there to teach you.<br>
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2. Learn about the stages:<br>There's generally two ways a woman will find out she has miscarried, she will either:<br>
- See blood in her pants and freak out<br>
- Have no idea and have happily gone to hospital for a scan<br>
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Neither way is fun - either you have the agonising wait to have a scan to see if the baby is okay or you think everything is okay only to have your heart stamped on, squeezed and ripped apart when the Sonographer says, 'I'm sorry...'<br>
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- She will inevitably have to wait. Either she waits for an operation (can have complications) or she will take tablets and wait for them to start working and force the miscarriage process to happen (not always successful) or she will wait for a natural miscarriage (this can take weeks/months). Any way it happens, she will have her dead baby inside of her for some time and this can affect her mental health and how she responds to the world (ie. you).<br>
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- At some point the baby will come away from the woman's body - with any process this will involve blood.<br>
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- Afterwards, she will have to heal physically, mentally, emotionally, hormonally and possibly spiritually. This is different for every woman - it could be a week, months, years or a lifetime.<br>
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- She may decide to try again straight away, she may not be able to try again for a while for a number of reasons or she may never try again.<br>
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At any point, give her a break. If she is a complete bitch to you, if she shouts at you, if she doesn't speak to you, if she cries and screams and can't stop, if she is absolutely motionless and silent, if she only wants to talk about what's on TV and not talk about it.... basically, pick up whatever she is putting down for a while and be with her. She is in pain. The worst pain. All the pain. And she is probably scared out of her wits and doesn't know how to cope. Be kind.<br>
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- She will think of and be reminded of her baby for a long time to come, especially every month when she sees her period or when she sees others with their children.<br>
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3. Ask her how she wants to be supported. This will be absolutely unique to her and she may request different things from different people.<br>
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4. Send your friend a <a href="https://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk/get-involved/shop/">card</a> with heartfelt words.<br>
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These stay a lot longer than your verbal words and can be a source of comfort during the sleepless nights.<br>
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5. Give or leave on the doorstep the following things:<br>
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- Anything that can help increase her blood production - drinks, herbs, vitamins, vegetables etc.<br>
- Anything that will help maintain her iron levels - cherries, nettle tea bags, green smoothies, raspberries... Google it<br>
- Anything that helps her uterus - raspberry leaf tea is amazing<br>
- Chocolate - in any form: bars, hot chocolate, biscuits, ice-cream...<br>
- Pads<br>
- Meals - especially her favourite food<br>
- New knickers/pants - chances are she has a lot of blood stained pants and she would like to throw them away<br>
- Wine (if she drinks)<br>
- Soft tissues with balm in it - toilet roll makes a woman blotchy<br>
- A gift voucher for a session with a masseuse, acupuncturist, reflexologist, cranio sacral therapist or someone wonderful<br>
- Pad and pen to write all the gunk in her mind down<br>
- Anything you know she loves that is mindless - jigsaw puzzles, books, colouring pencils/book, magazines (with no pregnancy or baby related material), facemask/hairmask, anything that makes a woman feel pretty, whatever...<br>
<br>
If you are a super close friend and you know that she is going to have a <a href="https://www.thehealthyhomeeconomist.com/how-to-have-a-natural-miscarriage-no-dc/">natural miscarriage</a>, you can support her with buying ingredients that help the miscarriage along. You could also provide her with names and telephone numbers of amazing counsellors or therapists in the area that work with women who experience loss, for when she is ready, if she's into that sort of thing.<br>
<br>
6. You can also send her online:<br>
<br>
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<br>
- Netflix recommendations that involve no babies and or pregnancies that will make her feel better eg. Queer Eye<br>
- YouTube videos of cats and dogs<br>
- YouTube videos of meditations to cope with loss or healing after grief.<br>
- Pages that you think might help - Tommy's, Miscarriage Association, forums, blogs, poetry etc.<br>
<br>
7. Do say something other than, 'I'm sorry.'<br>
<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOUpoMZnw4UuyQqELirSgDg4MelEElvljhe3igXtSkgLmVOxC4-ohr5eQ4VJ482rHNsU1W2xc6C9uZ07FITQvJ-a9nMTc0PfTN_MFWb0X3SkwEL9duNigRj_S6UmUzN7bno3e4BG3lzouQ/s1600/miscarriage-quote.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="310" data-original-width="236" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOUpoMZnw4UuyQqELirSgDg4MelEElvljhe3igXtSkgLmVOxC4-ohr5eQ4VJ482rHNsU1W2xc6C9uZ07FITQvJ-a9nMTc0PfTN_MFWb0X3SkwEL9duNigRj_S6UmUzN7bno3e4BG3lzouQ/s200/miscarriage-quote.jpg" width="151"></a></div>
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I have been told that some women are okay with people saying, 'I'm sorry.' If they are okay with it, then go for it and say it until the cows come home.<br>
<br>
This is probably controversial, but most of the time everyone says this and for some women the meaning behind it can become meaningless. Additionally, most likely this is the first thing a sonographer will say to the woman and she could associate this with being told that her baby had died.<br>
<br>
Instead, you can also say something like:<br>
<br>
'My heart is breaking for you...'<br>
'I'm absolutely gutted for you...'<br>
'This is fucking terrible and it's awful you have to go through this...'<br>
'I am sending you so much love and strength right now whilst you go through this shitty time...'<br>
<br>
FYI - For me... please don't say 'I'm sorry.' When I hear it I am like, 'What are you sorry for? You are sorry I lost my baby? How does that help me?' I can't stand it when people say it to me. It also reminds of the Sonographer.<br>
<br>
8. Help her heal<br>
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If she has passed a number of weeks of pregnancy, she will most likely have put on weight. This can be difficult to shift because of the different hormonal profile she will have for a while. Additionally, miscarriages can cause hormonal/thyroid issues and that might affect her weight, energy levels, mood etc.<br>
<br>
Additionally, some women can experience low mood, anxiety and PTSD, particularly when they have a period. They could also be feeling all sorts of guilt about the things they could have done or should have done, which is absolutely natural.<br>
<br>
Basically, for a while there, she isn't going to be right and she will most likely feel raw.<br>
<br>
If you want, you can do the following:<br>
<br>
- Ask her open questions - 'How are you?' 'How are you feeling?' 'How can I support you?' 'Tell me anything you need to express right now...' 'What is happening for you right now...' and then LISTEN. Listen until your ears bleed and then get a tissue to dab the blood and listen some more.<br>
<br>
- Try not to ask closed questions that force her to say yes or no and don't use questions starting with 'Why..'.<br>
<br>
- If you are trained in something lovely like massage, cranio sacral therapy, energy healing, shamanic work... Invite her into your space and give her some love.<br>
<br>
- If you know of anyone who is awesome with women who have just lost their babies, buy them a session to show your love.<br>
<br>
- Send her a lovely yoga class specifically for those who have miscarried.<br>
<br>
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<br>
9. Make sure you remain in contact<br>
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She may not contact you or respond to any of your messages but it is worth texting / whatsapping every few days with a short message - send her something that you think she will appreciate.<br>
<br>
Some people appreciate a 'Thinking of you.' Again, if they like that, say that as often as you like. It's not my thing, I don't see any point in that but others like it.<br>
<br>
You can go to her door and say you want nothing from her but you just want to give her a hug. That's okay. But if she doesn't answer the door because she is a mess and doesn't want anyone to see her, then don't persist.<br>
<br>
You being silent isn't necessary even if she is silent. She may not be communicating with you but she will be aware you are communicating with her. Try not to take it personally if she is being silent.<br>
<br>
10. LOVE<br>
<br>
If you know her, if you are sad for her, if you are thinking of her and want to care for her... Pray for her, meditate on her wellbeing, tell the universe you want the very best for her, imagine your heart beaming beautiful light towards her, send her metta, sing for her, cry for her... It's okay to do that. Send her your love - you can do that from afar. You don't need to tell her because on some level she will receive that love and healing.<br>
<br>
So, these are some things you can do to support her and show her that you love her.<br>
<br>
Good luck!<br>
<br>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-59138445813328893152020-04-04T17:38:00.001+01:002020-04-05T19:14:47.680+01:00She doesn't tell you - Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">She doesn't tell you what it means,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she tells you her little one is no more</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'I'm sorry.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder what you are sorry for.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she tells you that inside she is feeling numb</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'Don't worry.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder what she will overcome.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she tells you her baby's body will not leave</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you say, 'Be patient.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder how to silently grieve.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she tells you of the hot anger in her heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you say, 'Please calm down.' </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder if she's fallen apart.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she talks about the torrents of blood released</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'It's nature.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder at the flow of the deceased. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she tells you her beautiful baby has gone</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'I don't know.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder how on earth to hold on.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she talks about the sorrowful tears she's shed</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'You're healing.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder if she's better off dead.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she talks about the endless days of bare breath</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you will say, 'Time will help.'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder about her baby's death.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When she talks about the dark silence that surrounds</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you were never there</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And she will wonder at the pain that abounds.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She doesn't tell you what it means.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Please follow me here...<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Twitter:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Facebook:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a></span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-8204013828984861192020-03-19T13:14:00.001+00:002020-03-21T00:50:38.356+00:00Coronavirus - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The planet is rejoicing - the air and water are cleaner, animals are safer and calm has infiltrated the most chaotic spaces. Mother Earth is having her time. It's like she has sent us humans to the naughty corner to think about what we have done. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And what have we done? We have continued, without respite, to inflict abuse, pain, horror and heartbreak on Her. Without thought for balance, suddenly nature is fighting back and trying to make sure we finally understand our place. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The human race can be so easily obliterated. It is only because of love that we are still here. We are loved more than we know each moment of every day. The air we breathe, the water we drink, the ground we walk on, the creation that abounds around us is love in action, a love we take for granted and have become complacent about.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">During this time, it is important that we also love. Whether that is by following the social distancing rules, self-isolation, checking in with ourselves, family, friends and community to ensure they have the physical and emotional support needed. It is also a time of reflection to return our love to Mother Earth and to see how we can change moving forward so that we help maintain and respect the delicate balance in the exchange of love.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What we receive from Mother Earth is unconditional, she is our greatest teacher. One night I woke up with my chest constricted and struggling to breathe. She told me, 'This is how I feel everyday. You are choking me with your cars, oil, factories and manufacturing. I cannot breathe. If I cannot breathe, please understand, you are not able to breathe.' I gasped and then cried when I realised what we are doing to her. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wake up everyday with the heavy load of grief on my chest and she told me, 'Moment to moment you are killing your brethren: the animals, fish, forests and fauna. There is no reverence for the old ways when the cycles of life and death were followed and you show disrespect to all I have created when you kill on purpose, without conscious assent from that being. Although the dead are still a part of me, they no longer support the living functioning of our existence and so the cycle is upset.'</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last night, I woke in high anxiety with voices around me seeking help on what to do, how to understand, and I heard her say, 'Come home and listen, look and reflect on what changes need to be made so we can live in harmony. Meditate and look within so you can truly understand what is within is with - out. The human race are in dis-ease and are no longer guided by love so have become out of step with the rhythms of this planet. The human race need to regain perspective and truly open their hearts to what is, not what they would like things to be.'</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is a time to open our hearts and ask Mother Earth how we can be and what we can do so that harmony can re-emerge. She is warning us. But this is no longer a time for fear, it is a time of love. As a human race we need to submit, lean into and let go into this temporary enforced rest so that we have been provided so that we can re-emerge into more loving, caring beings, willing to work in harmony with, not against, our Mother.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Aho.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-56807935525270110662020-03-17T14:50:00.000+00:002020-03-18T15:24:32.746+00:00Letting Go - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was hauling a brown splattered 17kg suitcase through the mud of Bushy Park just a day after I had passed the majority of my third baby and all that entails. We had just buried little Noodle with their other siblings by the tree we had chosen nearly two years ago.<br>
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As we were trawling through, I looked up at the sky and said, 'Why are you pushing me to my limit?'<br>
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And I heard a voice say, 'Let go and all will come.'<br>
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The day I heard that I had lost this little one I had to make my way to a friend's house over an hour away. Diving into overcrowded, claustrophobic tubes, doubling over with cramp, I sweated my way to a hug and a goodbye as she left to look after her relative. I grabbed a hot water bottle, sat down and let the warmth of the water seep into my abdomen, which was indignant as I had allowed another internal scanner to poke, push and annoy.<br>
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Sitting on that couch, I soon experienced a sense of blissfulness. I fell into the deepest gratitude as I was so grateful for this pregnancy, one that took over a year to achieve. I was so thankful for every single hormonal signal - from the positive pregnancy test, the sore breasts, the bloating and nausea to the increased saliva and deep deep exhaustion. Food never tasted better, sleep never felt so refreshing and the knowledge that a little life had chosen to grace my uterus with their presence was gratifying and humbling. I promised myself this time that I would love every second of the pregnancy and I did. I relished every single second of being a mama and immersed myself in the maternal love kept only for this little being.<br>
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That evening, I felt this deep joy and relaxed deeper and deeper, knowing it wouldn't last forever and that the inevitable pain of attachment would soon catch up. I tasted sweetness from the cup of gratitude and allowed my body to submit and let go - glowing, free and relaxed.<br>
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That evening, a friend sent me information about a film maker called Richard Martini who speaks about how miscarriages can occur for the spiritual development of the parents. Since reading up on him, I have been guided to read, 'Letting Go' by David R Hawkins and 'Ask and It Is Given' by Esther and Jerry Hicks. I have had dreams instructing me to meditate and I am trying to come back into my body slowly.<br>
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Clearly, this is another opportunity for spiritual growth and development that I need to work on although I am a very slow learner at the best of times.<br>
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Though I was provided a taste of how I could feel if I just let go, I know I am resisting and as a consequence feel a build up of anger, pain, upset, hurt and can feel myself drowning into waves of this. I find it difficult to find peace and see myself react, react react.<br>
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Because, for me, nothing feels right after experiencing deep maternal loss. Physically, emotionally, hormonally, spiritually and in relationship to any or everything. I feel off kilter, unlike myself and raw - as if layers of my skin has been hacked off and my sores are left to bleed. I find human interaction exhausting, limiting and frustrating. In Real Life, I have found nobody who can truly understand how lonely, sad, painful, brutal, traumatising and heartbreaking repeated miscarriage is and so I know it is only up to me to brave this initiation, find a way through and learn.<br>
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I keep being told that it is up to me to choose the way forward, that I can make the decision to be joyful whilst processing this grief healthily, so I can heal and set myself free. I know the universe is on my side and will help me to learn. In the meantime, I will just take one day at a time and trust that it is possible even if I am not there yet.<br>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-57319291106609000912019-11-24T15:27:00.001+00:002019-11-24T21:41:09.948+00:00Inner Shaman Adventures - The Way of the Shaman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After my cacao ceremony, where I was asked to find a teacher, I found a course that resonated. I had read Michael Harner's, 'Way of the Shaman' a while back and knew that in Shamanic circles he was viewed to have integrity. So I contacted the <a href="https://shamanicstudies.co.uk/courses/the-way-of-the-shaman/">UK Faculty</a> of the <a href="https://www.shamanism.org/">Foundation for Shamanic Studies</a> and went to the basic workshop taught by <a href="https://shamanicstudies.co.uk/about-me/">Marta Niccolai</a>.<br>
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I danced and sang, drummed and rattled, swam and retrieved. Under the guidance of the Shaman I was able to journey deeper into the heartlands of the other worlds.<br>
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Yet most of all I listened, listened deeply to truth and allowed it all to resonate with me and my growth.<br>
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In one session, I was told by the spirit of a stone, 'Follow my heart, it will lead me in the right direction, even when alone I am on the right path. But, see things how they are not how I would like them to be. A tiny action contributes to the greater whole, allow yourself to be cleansed by spirit and consider all the elements as a guide. Every challenge can be overcome, don't take life so seriously.'<br>
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After the weekend I felt alive, vibrant and keen to keep exploring. Later on that week, fresh from a cancellation from a Consultant's appointment, I could hear Wimbledon Common's call and I felt bound to respond.<br>
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As I walked on her familiar pathways, I felt myself rejoice in this reunion. Her energy entered me and I felt swallowed by her power, strength and teachings. It was like being with a long lost friend whose connection traversed lifetimes.<br>
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In the common, I danced my spirit animals and cried their song. And then I watched them run around me as I entered deeper into the Common's womb and felt a song burst forth that I sang over and over again.<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
'Power comes from within.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Energy is all there is,</div>
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Love is all there is,</div>
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I am all there is.'</div>
<br>
Until different songs that also came from nowhere kept pouring forth.<br>
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I found myself singing for nature, her pain and incessant torture, I sang in love for her and for all that is included in her. Words, song, words, song, words and song kept pouring forth as my heart opened in honour of the power within me and my ancestors, the planet and the elements. Rain washed my face and hair clean and as I finally entered Richmond Park. I saw the deer prick their ears in interest, staring at the woman who couldn't stop singing songs so deeply honouring the source.<br>
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Until I could sing no more.<br>
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It was the best cancellation of a Consultant's appointment I have ever had.<br>
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Aho.<br>
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<a href="https://shamanicstudies.co.uk/courses/the-way-of-the-shaman/">The Way of The Shaman basic workshop in core shamanism was taught by Marta Nicolai</a><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">You can find more adventures in Shamanism here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/inner-shaman-adventures.html">Inner Shaman Adventures</a></span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Follow me here...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a></span></span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-36154360419782417692019-07-23T19:54:00.000+01:002019-12-17T21:53:47.383+00:00Movement - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I learnt long ago to always watch nature's season change. In the trees, I notice the light, colour, shed and fullness. I try to embody and follow her patterns, a slave to the equinoxes that balance out my years. She doesn't speak to me in words, she shows me in movement. I rise in excitement in spring, I'm at my most energetic in summer, I detox and shed in autumn and I retreat in winter. When I sit with her I feel full.<br>
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It now makes sense to me.<br>
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I learnt long ago to always watch a person's actions. In their words they may say everything I want to hear but if I don't notice the smile and love in their eyes, or feel it in their touch or see willingness in their presence, I have now chosen to be cautious. So many times I fell for words, believing them delicious and filling, but now I see. When I sat with them I was always hungry.<br>
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It now makes sense to me.<br>
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He told me I was a coward for not trusting in his words. Yet I would wonder at my dreams when he would flee every time and I would wake up shivering, grasping, stretching my hand out so I could feel his body. I ask him before I sleep, 'Will you promise you will be here in the morning?' He always faithfully promises me and when I wake he is always there.<br>
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I may struggle to learn to trust his words but I absolutely have learnt to trust his movement, light, colour, shed and fullness. I see the smile and love in his eyes, feel myself melt against his touch and know he is truly present in his presence. And I have no reason to be cautious. When I sit with him I feel full.<br>
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It now makes sense to me.<br>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-9383986177878058282019-07-21T20:13:00.000+01:002019-11-24T12:15:34.413+00:00Inner Shaman Adventures - Cacao Ceremony 22<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I decided to journey with cacao alone to deepen my connection with her and continue the work.<br />
<br />
I opened space, set up my altar and then cooked, sang, rattled, danced smudged, and called in the spirits - whilst allowing her to bubble and melt and become thick enough for drinking.<br />
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I sat in front of cacao, in front of the altar, and prayed my intentions to create space in me for my next steps, whatever they may be and I drank her deeply, breathing her in. I pulled the card, 'Courage.'<br />
<br />
I laid down to the sound of drumming and instantly I was on St Ouen beach, in Jersey. I walked to the edge of the sea and found myself swimming in very dangerous rip tides, the waves huge and overwhelming as the surf crushed my body repeatedly. I became aware that my understanding of the sea is so very different when I am at the edge compared to being in its midst, but as I saw a dolphin nearby, I understood I would also never have the perspective of the sea the dolphin has. I rode the waves back to the shore and walked towards a tunnel and gate, which opened up to a jungle.<br />
<br />
As soon as I was there a jaguar was beside me. As I walked deeper and deeper into the jungle she padded alongside. Soon I found the clearing and waited on my tree stump for Old Mother Cacao. The jaguar paced around me, unable to settle, until Old Mother Cacao entered.<br />
<br />
The drumming took over and I wove in and out of consciousness, I felt the drum on my base, heart and throat chakra - every beat dug a deeper hole. Soon black sludge vomited out of me and with every drum beat a little more until black poured out at an alarming rate, my body too small to have physically kept all this in.<br />
<br />
As soon as the black leaves, my body became clear and I started to shake violently on the floor. I shook until colour entered each chakra and I lay there, the brightest rainbow. Old Mother Cacao walked up to me and blew mapacho on to me and said, 'Very good.'<br />
<br />
'Allow yourself to shine, my darling. Do not be afraid of who you are. You need to take me further, take me to those who are suffering.'<br />
<br />
'You need to take the next steps in Shamanism, you need to find a Master.'<br />
<br />
I agreed I would.<br />
<br />
'The jaguar is your spirit guide, she will protect you in the lower world.'<br />
<br />
Glowing, I hugged Old Mother Cacao and she entered into my energetic body. The jaguar and I walked back to the gate and I told her that I would return.<br />
<br />
Once I returned to St Ouen, I walked back to the edge of the sea and then swam in her magical waters. The sea was much calmer and I surfed the waves with ease, playing in the water.<br />
<br />
Aho.<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">You can find more adventures in Shamanism here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/inner-shaman-adventures.html">Inner Shaman Adventures</a></span></span><br />
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-47578297021769761772019-07-10T07:18:00.001+01:002020-04-04T17:42:31.748+01:00Her - Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I smell her</div>
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As I crumble and chop.</div>
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The medicine</div>
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Melting on my fingers</div>
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Entering my bloodstream.</div>
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I smell her</div>
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As I stir the water.</div>
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The medicine,</div>
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Dissolving and swelling,</div>
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Playfully becoming.</div>
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I feel her</div>
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As I sing icaro.</div>
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The medicine</div>
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dancing to the rhythm </div>
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of the rattle and voice.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I taste her,</div>
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As I bring to my lips</div>
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The medicine.</div>
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Thick, brown, warm and bitter</div>
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entering my body.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I taste her</div>
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As the liquid flows on.</div>
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The medicine</div>
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opens and heals my heart,</div>
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crucial operation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love her</div>
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As Old Mother Cacao.</div>
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The medicine</div>
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takes me into her arms,</div>
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dispels fear and gives hope.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love her,</div>
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As I embrace healing.</div>
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The medicine,</div>
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Wanting the best for me,</div>
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prescribes me vital work.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Photo of me taken by my sister.</div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-59557630314340177382019-07-01T08:11:00.001+01:002019-11-24T12:32:36.752+00:00Inner Shaman Adventures - Cacao Ceremony 21<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I sent out a call to family and friends and they answered. On the due date of our second baby, my birthday, I chose to bring love in its physical form to my house, our home. My sister arrived on the Friday night and friends came the next day. We travelled and met in Bushy Park and started the process of returning to Old Mother Cacao.<br />
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Within the circle of trees, with a beautiful canopy to protect us, we created space, a circle representing the rhythms of life. As we smudged, hugged and spoke our intentions, we connected and communed, opening our hearts and lives to one another.<br />
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My intention was to create the space for fertility to blossom within me, naturally. Despite the myriad tests, vials of blood and urine, discussions with Doctors, there is a need to find a bloom within me that is beyond science.<br />
<br />
As I lay down, I wondered how it had been so long for me to lie in nature again, to be with Old Mother, as she allowed me to listen to what my heart truly has to say. I saw the pattern of the leaves against the sky and soon closed my eyes as the warmth of cacao enveloped me.<br />
<br />
She was there.<br />
<br />
She came to me and looked me up and down.<br />
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'What a mess, my darling. Look at you.'<br />
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She very carefully blew mapacho at my whole body. She then excavated each chakra and took out rotten cores - putrid, smelly, and scraped out what was no longer of use. Each area was cleared and cleaned and then the gaping holes were filled with mapacho and cacao. I stood in front of her allowing myself to be eviscerated and throughout she says to me, 'Where have you been? What have you been doing to yourself?'<br />
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I looked down at myself - my core now filled with cacao, splattered all over me, daubed brown, dripping, bitter tasting, I could feel the medicine at work, at play. The medicine carousing in my blood stream.<br />
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Humbled, I realised how far I had come from the natural world, how my journey had strayed from the Old Mother and her powerful teachings.<br />
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'To be fertile means to be creative. You are restricting your creativity, if this cannot flow then fertile ground cannot remain.<br />
<br />
How often are you writing, my darling?'<br />
<br />
I had picked up food instead of the pen and had been mashing, pulverising, blending, whisking, chopping and kneading on a regular basis - recipes that take hours to create and minutes to destroy.<br />
<br />
'It's not enough, you need your words. Your language is your most fundamental mode of creative expression but you do not take the time to sit and allow creative forces to arrive.'<br />
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I understood. Somehow, I had let writing and cacao take a back seat as other, more seemingly pressing areas seemed to take precedent. I knew I needed to allow creativity to flow back in my veins.'<br />
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She berated me, 'Darling, being in ceremony, being with me in this way, is a part of your journey so you can share the light with others and they can find their own truth. Share me, be a part of me, hold me in ceremony for others. Do not turn away from me, I'm also a part of your journey towards truth. Do you not remember what Aya said? You have been initiated. It is time. People will come.'<br />
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I nodded. I knew that I need to hold space for cacao to do her work for others, that the planet needed this more than ever as we face evermore destructive forces.<br />
<br />
'Try not to force life. Life will happen in the way that it is meant. If you have or do not have children, your creativeness is your fertility. Your round belly is a source of life, not just for children but for all birth.'<br />
<br />
I picked the card, 'Intensity', 'You have not to be a follower, an imitator. You have to be an original individual; you have to find your innermost core on your own, with no guide, no guiding scriptures. It is a dark night but with the intense fire of inquiry you are bound to come to the sunrise.'<br />
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To do that I need to follow my heart, to allow my creative forces to arise from within and be allowed expression.<br />
<br />
Aho.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">You can find more adventures in Shamanism here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/inner-shaman-adventures.html">Inner Shaman Adventures</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cacao Ceremony facilitated by Carmen Saccone</span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-80348590884514077902019-04-28T14:18:00.001+01:002021-08-08T23:40:17.923+01:00Gratitude - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
'So, what are you grateful for?' he asked, as we stretch out in bed after <a href="https://www.dhamma.org/en/index">meditating</a>, fresh from metta.<br />
'Well... I am grateful for you, this bed, this house, the safety we experience on this street... and then my list would continue, including various people, items, experiences, qualities until I feel satisfied with my daily quota. 'What about you?'<br />
<br />
It is the same conversation we have practically every morning. Our list of appreciation, of love.<br />
<br />
Amongst the milieu of death I have found a new appreciation for life. The last year, which included the death of my beloved Uncle and two babies, has left me with a clarity I cherish beyond words.<br />
<br />
I notice everything now. I observe, see, and try my very hardest not to grasp or cling.<br />
<br />
I get excited by the budding and blooming of flowers and leaves, I see animals and am deeply grateful for the role they play in our lives and love to see the dogs, cats, birds and deer on my daily walk into work. Watching this joyful spring unfold has been powerful, as the cyclical return to light releases my need to hibernate.<br />
<br />
I am in love with the soft rhythm of my week as I start baking and cooking for the week ahead, gathering fresh clean clothes - dissipating with the old in the house and allowing the new to enter. Preparing, creating, nurturing, allowing and being - revelling in the change and space I create.<br />
<br />
I deeply cherish the process of transformation, of refinement and growth, as I continually make adjustments to accommodate the new. In the process of learning about fertility alone, we have thrown out plastic and destructive chemicals, we have eschewed sugar, caffeine, processed food and are taking so many supplements that if you shook us we would rattle. We have become healthier... cleaner... willing...<br />
<br />
I am so deeply in love with now.<br />
<br />
One of my favourite meditations is to become so actively involved with the breath that the process of breathing becomes a love affair. I notice how the breath enters my body in such an intimate way, experiencing me so deeply with such involvement before showing me how important it is that we remain detached from the experience so the breath can leave and then return. I find it overwhelming at times, this finite but beautiful, gorgeous process... forever teaching me something deeper about how we are to experience this gift of being human.<br />
<br />
Without the medicine of death, I would not be able to understand life. Without the squeeze and sucker punch of grief, I would not be able to understand the depth and freedom of breath. Without the gift of tears, I would not be able to wash myself clean. I have been emptied and yet I am full.<br />
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I am so grateful.<br />
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-37780927335806097852018-11-19T12:50:00.001+00:002019-11-24T13:07:27.536+00:00Merry-Go-Round - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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***WARNING - long graphic post and a little bit of swearing***<br />
<br />
I no longer believe in blowing away eyelashes and making wishes.<br />
<br />
My whole life I used to get so excited when I saw the tiny hair fall from someone's eyes. I would carefully scoop it up and present it to them... 'Make a wish,' I would fervently say, believing that this was their special moment to call on the magic and power of the universe.<br />
<br />
When someone would give me my eyelash, or I would find my own, I would solemnly compose my wish, send it out and blow my wishes into the air. For the last few months my wish has been the same and I would wish our little baby, our second pregnancy, would stay with their mama and papa this time. We affectionately named it a name that would have no meaning in our daily life, but the song was significant and I thought to myself, you can't have a second miscarriage when you have named your baby Chumba - short for Chumbawamba - that would be ridiculous. Yet here we are again, and the poor little one is stuck with a ludicrous name now.<br />
<br />
I had lost my innocence of pregnancy the first time around. When we told family and friends that we had become pregnant again, without exception everyone congratulated us and then wished us luck. Every single time I went to the toilet I felt anxiety and scanned my knickers for any signs. I would check for the discharge to make sure it was the right colour and consistency. If I felt a twinge or cramp I would run to the toilet for a quick check. Sometimes I wouldn't even go the toilet, at home I would just drop my knickers and ask my husband to confirm my findings.<br />
<br />
On my 8th week I had slight brown coloured discharge.<br />
<br />
I was at work and left everything. I called my husband and he collected me and we went straight to Accident & Emergency. We were so lucky as within 30 minutes we had been assessed and sent to the Early Pregnancy Unit (EPU) and was scanned. To our delight we saw our little perfect baby - they were the right size, there was a regular heartbeat and nothing seemed to be wrong. The nurses placated us with how lots of women bleed throughout their first trimester, that we haven't had pain and it was only a little brown blood so there should be no need to worry. Together we hoped so much they were right and I fled to the forums - all of them, I became a forums slut - Mumsnet, Netmums, Babycentre... you name it, I read it. There were so many stories of women who have bled and have been okay, even after miscarrying before.<br />
<br />
Two days later at work I found more blood - red blood that filled my knickers - and I again called EPU. The next afternoon I was scanned again, fear filling me up and anxiety nipping at my heels, and I cried when the sonographer let me hear the heartbeat. I saw our baby who was very much alive. The Doctor later came in and gave me an internal, 'Your cervix is closed. There's no sign of cervical erosion. This just happens.'<br />
<br />
So I calmed down. There were only spots of brown blood after that. No pain. No problem.<br />
<br />
Except it wasn't.<br />
<br />
A scan is a snapshot in time.<br />
<br />
We went for a 'comfort scan' two weeks before the 12 week nuchal scan and we weren't worried as everything seemed to be back to normal. The bleeding hadn't returned, my belly did not seem so tender and I was feeling all the symptoms.<br />
<br />
My husband had to park the car but as we were late I went in to the EPU first. I joked with the sonographer about my bloating, at 10 weeks my belly was so large I was wearing maternity trousers. The sonographer placed the scanner on me and said nothing, then after a while she said there was so much gas she couldn't see what was happening and asked if she could do an internal scan.<br />
<br />
I asked if I could go to the toilet, stalling time till my husband arrived because I already knew what she was going to say.<br />
<br />
He arrived just as she was placing the internal scanner in me and then she said the words I hate the most, 'I'm sorry.' No woman in the world wants to hear those words when they are being scanned. Ever. Now, whenever I have to let anyone know about my situation and the first words I hear are, 'I'm sorry,' I feel like I am experiencing a flashback and my reaction is anger - honestly, when someone says that, I may be saying some sort of trite response in return but I actually am just trying to find ways to stop myself from scratching that person's eyes out.<br />
<br />
This time I left the sonographer's eyes alone but I burst into tears and clung on to my husband for dear life as yet again I realised I had lost a tiny little soul I so desperately wanted to meet.<br />
<br />
So here we are again, on the merry-go-round of miscarriage.<br />
<br />
I have calculated that I have spent just under six months in first trimester this year. Six months of nausea (and weight gain as the only way to stop my nausea is through eating), painful breasts, peeing constantly, and bloating so much I generally looked six months pregnant with a constant need to sleep at all times. What I have in return for this permanent hungover state is two babies to bury, a very deep and intimate relationship with my bed and so much knowledge about miscarriage and loss I didn't have previously. I am not sure this is much of a return on our investment - it has left me bereft, heartbroken, grief-stricken but most of all, it has made me fucking furious.<br />
<br />
One of the hardest part of the situation is the loneliness of it all - the first time around everyone I knew had a story of miscarriage they could tell, they could relate to one miscarriage and the pain, discomfort and unfairness of the situation. Yet, this time around, the usual first response after the ubiquitous, painful, fury-inducing, 'I'm sorry' is about my being tested to see what's wrong with me, compounding the sense of failure I am already feeling. After that, it's usually silence or a random, 'Thinking of you' or an emoticon to let me know they are there. I am now not just a case of bad luck, I am recurrent. I don't blame people, life goes on, there's a world to be part of, but it is an uncomfortable place to be in - full of hard edges and muted impotent responses.<br />
<br />
Being on the merry-go-round means I already know how to process the emotional response I am experiencing, I know what to do and where to seek support and advice. I know the process of grief and the journey that is laid out for my husband and I. I know about the possible tests I could take, what I would need to do to start them, how they are not always successful and how there may even be nothing wrong with me. I know about the physical process I am about to embark on and what I could try differently when we try again.<br />
<br />
I also know I need to accept that the journey of parenthood is a path to becoming a warrior, whether we have a baby to hold in our hands or not. The whole process is refining us to be people who are courageous in the face of extreme adversity and forcing us to continually embrace acceptance and surrender in the deepest way.<br />
<br />
Statistically, I still have a very good chance of becoming a mother. However, I also need to accept I may never become a mother in this lifetime. I may never know the joy of having a child in my arms that I can watch grow and become. I may never experience the labour of a woman who sees their child for the first time with a heartbeat and open eyes. I may only experience loss in this chapter of my life and somehow if I can make peace with this I will find freedom in this process.<br />
<br />
I also need to accept that others will have the experience of motherhood and it is just as important for me to be able to remain open-hearted to their joy even in my deepest hurt - to be able to embrace everything this world has to offer so my heart can be open to it all. It will take some time, but that's okay.<br />
<br />
But if I see an eyelash, there will be no more wishes.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-47588248541842513772018-08-15T07:44:00.003+01:002019-11-24T13:11:29.715+00:00Be Willing - Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wild woman in heaven</td></tr>
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<br />Be willing to honour</div>
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the circle of our cycles</div>
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our natures</div>
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our planet</div>
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our consciousness.</div>
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Beautiful wild woman</div>
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of nature</div>
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Understand!</div>
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The seasons</div>
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Birth</div>
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Life</div>
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Death</div>
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See the perfection in all things.</div>
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Be willing to honour</div>
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the circle of our cycles.</div>
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Be grateful </div>
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to know space</div>
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to grieve and love.</div>
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Beautiful wild woman</div>
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of nature</div>
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Be willing!</div>
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To</div>
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Honour<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">You can read other poems here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/poetry.html">Gracie's poems</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit , serif;">Twitter:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-71101161547836294582018-07-05T11:47:00.001+01:002019-11-24T13:15:30.258+00:00Limbo - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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***Warning - quite a graphic blog post***<br />
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I have never been in this position before and to be honest, before I found myself here, I had never thought about all the women who have been through this, who are experiencing the waiting for a natural missed miscarriage right now. It's comforting to know I am not the only woman in the world who is preparing for their child to enter the world even though we know they will never take a breath.<br />
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No one tells you about limbo - the waiting and uncertainty of each moment. The time between finding out your child's heart is not beating until the moment they can find their resting place. No one tells you about the agony of looking for and analysing blood on your pad or when you wipe and perceiving a glimmer of pain, hoping and fearing the process is about to start. No one tells you the tumult of emotions, looking at your belly every so often, knowing this is one of the last times you will see this child creating a hillock inside. No one ever tells you the struggle of never being too far from home. Just. In. Case. It. Happens.<br />
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Yet on motherhood forums there are stories, crashing together, all unique. On these pages there is fear, pain, agony, heartbreak, upset and the torture of waiting. And blood - lots and lots of blood, mixed with hCG levels, hormones, placenta, cord and the sac which some women will cut open so they can see whom they have carried, their particular miracle that was not meant to be, whom they call their Angels. I have read words of encouragement around the world from a sisterhood who have been there, who say you can do this and you will get through this, 'You have got this mama, you are a warrior and you will make this baby proud.'<br />
<br />
And for those who had no indication of an imminent miscarriage, there is anger - so much fury at the injustice, treachery and deception. No one tells you how utterly betrayed a woman can feel by their body's lies. There is talk about hCG levels and how when they are still high, the symptoms of pregnancy continue - the broken sleep, waking up to nausea and having larger sore breasts. Women who are walking as if in water as exhaustion sits on their shoulders, their brains less capable of processing the world around them. And because of these hormones, their body still won't let go. It refuses to believe it will not be a mother to this particular child. It cradles the remains in mourning, clinging to its lifeless form.<br />
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No one tells you that if you are far enough along, a natural missed miscarriage can be like labour and you can experience the cramping, labour pains and blood just like any other pregnancy. No one tells you about women all around the world lying on their bathroom floor, almost wanting to pass out in pain or vomit with extreme nausea or sitting in a bathtub in bright red water needing heat or holding a sieve under themselves when sitting on the toilet as they don't want to lose their baby amongst the diarrhoea that is exploding because of the hormonal changes.<br />
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They don't tell you of women who want to miscarry naturally but who are bleeding so much they have to rush to A & E to be operated on.<br />
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Yet there is a huddling of women all around the world who repeatedly say they can't express what is happening to them to people in their Real Life because it's too intimate, real, gory and painful. The worry that people will not understand makes these women mute in front of family members and friends who can only say, 'I'm sorry' or 'I wish I could give you a hug.' Magnifying the impotence of friends and family who have no idea what to do or how to help, who have no idea what happens to a woman, or their partner, who is experiencing this. All I can say to those people is become aware, learn what it means when a woman says they are going to lose their baby. Please sit alongside them - whether in person, on the phone or by text - listen to them and hold them when they howl with grief, feel endless guilt, express their anger or anxiety about one tiny thing they think they did wrong.<br />
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Otherwise, your 'I'm sorry' means absolutely nothing.<br />
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And how to speak of the unbearable sadness of when you hear a pregnancy announcement, when you see another woman who is pregnant or have babies in their arms, against their chests. How to speak of the heartbreak and mixed emotions when people close to you bring a beautiful one in this world, ready for their adventure of joy. Sometimes no words can express what is felt very deeply inside.<br />
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One beautiful thing about humans is that it is in our nature to find a way through this. So in the forums there is also something else, other stories, and they are of hope, possibility and joy. Women who have braved the process again and have come out the other side with their baby's heart beating and breathing. Women who have had countless miscarriages, years of pain and heartbreak, who suddenly find themselves with a family of their own. Women who thought it was too late but managed one more time for their dreams to come true. 'It can happen!' 'You will be like us too!'<br />
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Now, in the waiting, I document everything. I document the slightest change, because I know that I will want to share my story with others so that whilst they are waiting, in fear of the pain, blood and their transition from motherhood into shidu fumu - a status so unbearable to the English language, we have to borrow from the Chinese. I will write so I am able to give someone else a little respite from their worry or concern and maybe one day, I will also be able to post a message of hope.<br />
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Until then, I will remain in limbo.<br />
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-21442616512638373822018-06-22T18:59:00.000+01:002021-10-15T17:01:20.363+01:00Loss - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr73O8yygwtbbzV7gY4uk1OzWjzTLZ_2cttRuj2F3lhIk2waJRCQZmXUD-eeuhOHCfISA8GffOELnBbEQl8C_7-qSqQatZ39YOUSq7z3qM0daHuRC3uSHDp8YeWB_zsBFfu4ZiBqDdEKkE/s1600/Poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr73O8yygwtbbzV7gY4uk1OzWjzTLZ_2cttRuj2F3lhIk2waJRCQZmXUD-eeuhOHCfISA8GffOELnBbEQl8C_7-qSqQatZ39YOUSq7z3qM0daHuRC3uSHDp8YeWB_zsBFfu4ZiBqDdEKkE/s320/Poppy.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span>
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">*****WARNING Long blog post*****</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"> </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I knew that I couldn't wait to see you but not like this. I was expecting contractions but not so soon. I was expecting to hold you in my arms not scoop your remains. I was expecting to hear you cry, not to be flooded in my own tears. I was expecting my heart to burst open not to become heartbroken. I was expecting to announce your arrival, not your departure. I was expecting to bring in your life, not usher your death.</span><br>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{26}" paraid="1606490318" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">And now I have no further expectations because you are no longer here. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{28}" paraid="2105463411" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">After seeing your heartbeat flickering on the screen and the sonographer saying you were looking healthy and well at 8 weeks and 2 days. We were so excited seeing your little head and body, with everything in the right place and all was as well as could be expected. My husband and I squeezed hands and felt tears slide down our faces as we dreamed of the day we would have you in our arms.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span><br>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{52}" paraid="490652946" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I was in wonder as in my fertile soil, y</span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">ou germinated. You were just </span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">a tiny poppy seed when I knew you had chosen to use my womb to slowly form, develop and grow. I felt I was nutritious, rich and ready to support your fledgling life. And whilst the outside elements ravage - leaving me on my knees and retching, battered to exhaustion, I heard the call to motherhood and she was singing my name. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{54}" paraid="846308514" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I mixed matter, mineral, gas and liquid to help you grow. I was your home and supply, your carrier and vehicle for your soul to create your body. And i</span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">n doing so, I drew a boundary around myself and cocooned, allowing life to care for me and you in our process of transforming and becoming. I snuggled, lay and forgot the outside world whilst I pondered on how life reflects life reflects life and how my microcosm helped me to understand mother nature's struggle, pain and joy of birth. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{56}" paraid="1718042104" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Once just a field, I had felt my curves become hills and sensitivity heighten. I could feel even the tiniest organisms trace my skin and grace my soil. My growth into a hill felt like it could become out of control and be possible for me to become a mountain or volcano as deep earthquakes within relentlessly pushed me to spread and expand, to breach any limitations I previously assumed about myself - physically, mentally and emotionally. I felt myself become softer, stronger, powerful and wide enough to hold enough love to transcend our microcosm and fill the universes. I felt I had become a servant of mother earth, acquiescing to her constant creative process. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{58}" paraid="993191407" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">And you allowed this, my dear seed. You gave me a gift that no other has and for that I will be eternally grateful. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{60}" paraid="1908171354" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"> </span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{62}" paraid="1768124847" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I was so nauseous at the time of the scan, it was the first time I had left my bed in two days. Thereafter I stayed in bed for a further three. Little did I know the day I went back to work your healthy little flickering heart stopped. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{64}" paraid="977068734" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Still. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{66}" paraid="36631561" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I had no idea. I </span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="AdvancedProofingIssue SCXW77181626" style="background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">still kept</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> you inside and for as long as you were in me, my body still believed it was pregnant. I couldn't wait to see your precious little life on the screen at my 12 weeks scan. I couldn't wait to broadcast your arrival to the world. I had read every website that detailed your progress and the effects your being would have on my body. I whispered and sang to you, made promises and wishes, I told you stories of the family you would grow into and the world we wanted to create with you. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{68}" paraid="1844661810" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">The day before the scan I was at work and just about to go into a meeting. I went to the toilet to find spotting on my knickers. I took a photo and sent it to him. In our fear, we both frantically Googled what it could mean and then placated each other, 'It could mean the placenta is embedding.' </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
</div>
<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{70}" paraid="1059651568" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> 'It's just spotting and dark red, so it could be just old blood as the baby is shifting...' </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{72}" paraid="1895960141" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> 'It says on this site that lots of women experience spotting, I am sure it's fine.' </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{74}" paraid="1654039429" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> 'We've got the scan tomorrow and everything will be alright.' </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{76}" paraid="79685283" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> 'You don't feel any cramping or pain so that's a good sign.'</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{78}" paraid="1442211188" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I have no idea what I spoke about at the meeting.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{80}" paraid="782239133" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">The morning of the scan I had no energy for work and stayed home and rested until we needed to leave. We arrived at the maternity unit, swarmed by heavily pregnant women waddling with life and we waited to be called in. The sonographer asked if I had experienced any bleeding and soon tears filled my eyes as I recounted the spotting I saw yesterday, but then I wanted to be hopeful as I recounted all the pregnancy symptoms I continually kept experiencing.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{82}" paraid="1691803204" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">She pressed the scanner into my belly hard and moved around quickly and efficiently. She said the baby didn't look the right size for twelve weeks but that she was going to look for a heartbeat. After a short pause, she said she couldn't see a heartbeat and asked if I would mind her scanning the child internally just to check if it had been missed. In minutes, she was scanning again and broke my heart with just a few words, 'I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat.' Another nurse came in to confirm the prognosis and I felt my head spin. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{84}" paraid="1635122134" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">We were ushered into a room, too tiny to be comfortable, and then taken six floors to a nurse who spoke to me about my options of types of miscarriages.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{86}" paraid="360383166" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">In my head, very loudly, I was saying, 'I don't want the option of a type of miscarriage. I want my baby, I want pregnancy, I want motherhood and all the heaven and hell that entails. I want my promised future that I was given after seeing my Poppy's heartbeat. I want the plans I have created and those conversations with my husband and family, talking about the new changes life is about to bring. Poppy is due at Christmas time and would be the best present I would ever have been given. STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT MISCARRIAGE.'</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{88}" paraid="656003256" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">All I said was, 'I want to go home.'</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{90}" paraid="573258990" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">That night we informed everyone and then curled into each other in a pool of tears and words. We shared our feelings, held each other and delved deeper into the sense of shock, pain, sadness and a deep sense of injustice. We received stories of how others had also gone through this, we received texts of love and heartfelt wishes of support and concern. I would move from finding solace in </span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="SpellingError SCXW77181626" style="background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">humour</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">, philosophy, spirituality to howling with a deepest sense of grief that was creating the deepest fissures in my heart, feeling lost and unhinged with nowhere to cling to.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
</div>
<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{92}" paraid="2002783535" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">And I heard Ayahuasca call and remind me, so I looked for my diary and read, and again learned about surrender and how it is the only way to process this experience we go through. I was reminded how surrender is the only way I can make sense of something so insensible. And I read further about death, how it is the sternest, most persistent and patient teacher there is and how grief is medicine for the soul. That every soul has its own journey and we never ever have control over anything or anyone. Everything in our lifetime is temporary, all of this will pass, and I just need to keep observing, observing, observing and find equanimity in it all. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{e1f9a919-0b0d-48cd-a187-668a18fee7e4}{94}" paraid="1117668846" style="padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1394795828521778991" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW77181626" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="SCXW77181626" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre !important;"><br></span></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Goodbye Poppy. May your journey take you to a place where you find real happiness, may you be free from suffering, may you experience real peace, real harmony, and take you on the path of liberation, my love. </span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br></span><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"></span><span class="TextRun SCXW77181626" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">I will always be your mama in my heart and if you ever want to return to me, I will be waiting.</span><span class="EOP SCXW77181626" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span><br>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-17959508179837271242017-12-09T17:28:00.000+00:002019-11-24T13:29:45.903+00:00Silence - Blog Post <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US">There was a
boy who once taught me to be silent. No matter how much I would try and make him
talk he would just smile and hold me. I would put my head on his shoulders and
sometimes we would sit like that for hours. In speech we would never truly connect but in
silence there was a way, a space where we would open up and just be with one
another. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Unfortunately
noise overtook us and silence became a thing of the past but I shall never
forget those moments, unsullied by polluted breath and the stink of words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It brought me peace beyond measure.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2px; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;">You can read other blog posts here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Blog%20Post">Gracie's blog posts</a> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2px; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;">Follow me here...</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 19.2px;">T</span>witter: <a href="https://twitter.com/Graciethewriter">Gracie's Twitter Page</a></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2px; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/graciebridges/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Gracie's FB page</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2px; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="line-height: 19.2px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Google +: <a href="https://plus.google.com/111311589847987586106/posts" style="font-family: inherit;">Gracie's Google + page</a></span></span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-66840072792914771862017-12-02T16:36:00.002+00:002019-11-09T20:53:45.234+00:00Love is the Engine of Survival - Short Story <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘Hi,’ a young woman about my age
looked at me, her green eyes flashing with an inner intensity I could only wish
for. In an American accent she asked me, ‘Which seat is yours?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked at my ticket and replied it was the top berth. She helped me put my bag under the main seat and I put my
smaller rucksack on the top bunk. My unwanted travelling companion clattered in behind me and I looked at the woman with a pained expression. She looked at me quizzically and threw
her gaze upon him. He put his rucksack under the other seat and instantly
climbed up to the top berth opposite, making sure his guitar was carefully
placed beside him. He looked down from his perch at us mere mortals, clocked the woman, and in an unmistakably English accent said, ‘Hello, how are you?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> The American s</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">miled, ‘I’m good, yourself?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> He looked at her and said, ‘I am perfect thank
you.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She smiled at the unusual response, 'Well, great!' </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> 'What's your name?' he asked.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘I'm Geraldine, what’s yours?’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘My name is Hari Om.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Right,’ Geraldine paused, ‘but what is your
real name?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘That is my real name,’ Hari Om almost spat out the words, signalling many conversations of a similar nature. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Your parents named you Hari Om?’ Geraldine asked.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘No, my Indian Guru did.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Who is your Guru?’ Geraldine enquired.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Oh you won’t know him, his name is Sri Sai
Devananda Samarpan Sivananda Saraswati Nanak Mahesh Yogananda Baba.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘Oh… right,’ Geraldine replied. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Hari Om chose not to
continue the conversation so promptly bought a chai from one of the hundred
chai wallahs lining the corridors of the Indian train bound for Madurai. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Geraldine looked at me and I
tried to smile and shrug, whilst gesturing to the top bunk where Hari Om’s bulk
had now laid down, indicating that whilst we came on this train together... we were not together. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">More people came into the
train compartment and soon the remaining seats filled. Geraldine and I sat next
to each other and started chatting. As soon as the train started, we heard
snores from the top berth and realised Hari Om had fallen asleep.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Imitable of most traveling
conversations, small talk was swept aside and we delved into the important
areas of our lives. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> Geraldine said, ‘I call myself a
student but I don’t have a teacher. Well, not one to speak of. I’ve got people,
songs, books, satsangs and stuff to draw upon but nothing that actually says,
‘This is the right way and this is how you do it.’ I guess after being stuck in
education for so long I always assumed there would be a teacher to guide me,
mark me out of a hundred, tell me where my spelling and punctuation mistakes were,
that kind of thing, but suddenly it isn’t there anymore… I am left to my own
devices.'</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Feeling the warm air caress my back as the train flitted between village, temple and landscape in the sweltering sunshine, </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She carried on, ‘I tend to
drift into spiritual things, no matter how practical I try to be. I have just always been that way inclined…’ She changed her position on
the chair and as an afterthought said, ‘And life - I’m usually inclined towards
life too. I feel like I am learning so much about letting go and starting
afresh, about being independent and responsible for my own actions, about what
is right and wrong for me.’ </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She looked up at me and I realised she was
really beautiful, her dark hair pulled back into a loose bun and her pale skin
glowing. I wondered how she maintained such coolness as I slowly roasted next to her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Yeah,’ I said, wiping the sweat from my brow with the bottom of my dupatta, ‘but I have met a lot of
strange people who say they are following the spiritual path... though I think they may just have mental problems.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Yeah, I guess there are some unusual people out
there,’ Geraldine agreed. ‘A bit like that one up there…
what’s his real name?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘I took a peep at his passport and it’s David.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘What are you doing with him?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘I can’t get rid of him and he keeps following
me about. I have had to listen to a lot of sermons from him about his philosophy on life. I think he wants me to be his pupil or something,’ I told her. After a pause I said, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">‘He’s also married.’</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘Where’s his wife?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘She’s working at home, looking after his two
kids.’ I grin wryly. Geraldine grimly nodded.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I started to tell her my own
story and path, how I believed I was probably not self aware enough to know if I was actually learning anything and how I felt confused most of the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">‘All I know is that I am afraid that if I
fall onto the path of spirituality I might just end up sounding like some of
the people I have already met who seem like freakish clichés to me, and I definitely
don’t want to be like that.’</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘But have you met some great people too?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Oh yeah, I have met some lovely people,’ I
replied.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘And have they been into spirituality?’ she
asked.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Yeah some of them have, but most of the time
you wouldn’t know because they don’t throw it in your face.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘It sounds like you are self-aware enough to
know what you don’t want.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Guess so.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">We fell into a comfortable
silence as the light faded from the Indian sky.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">After
a while Hari Om woke up, signaled to the Chai Wallah for another cup and
settled down to start his sermon from on high.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Remember, love is the engine of survival,’
he said.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘Excuse me?’ I asked, confused by his
trail of thought. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘Well, you need to love and forgive, by doing
this you will be set free,’ Hari Om proclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">‘Please
stop patronising us with song lyrics and half-baked philosophies,’ Geraldine said
irritably.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘I know more than you do, I have been to the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Life,' he responded.</st1:placename></st1:place></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘It sounds like you found a guitar, probably learnt three chords and travelled around India. You don’t know anything.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘I know more than you. You are just out of
your nappies… I have lived longer than you,’ Hari Om retorted.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Suddenly, from nowhere, some
Indians came to our compartment to listen. Young children, old men and lots of
teenagers who could hear Geraldine’s loud voice gathered closer in on the
conversation, much to the delight of the Chai Wallah who was selling tea to
everyone who had ringside seats.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Geraldine spoke, ‘Age means
nothing, I have lived a full life, and at least I have been open to change and
beauty from an early age. I haven’t left people that depend on me at home. Do
you know how selfish you are being? Leaving your family because you can’t be
arsed to hang around with them anymore? Are you experiencing A MID-LIFE CRISIS?’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I sat back in horrified amazement
at her rhetoric. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The crowd started having a
conversation amongst themselves and I could see that some agreed with her,
mostly the teenagers, but that some of the older men were clucking and shaking
their heads. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Geraldine leaned forward, ‘Is your Guru really called Leonard Cohen? I have had enough of older people thinking they know best when they
are as clueless as the next generation. You call yourself Hari Om but your real
name is David. Get a fucking reality check, man.’ </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She took a deep breath and
sat back on the seat. The whole train compartment went quiet.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hari Om sat there and we
watched his face turn red then purple until he looked like he was about to
burst. He got up from his chair, took his guitar and walked down the corridor.
As soon as he left, everyone started talking. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An Indian boy comes up to
Geraldine and said, ‘You shouldn’t be talking to your elders like that. It’s very disrespectful.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Gerry looked up at him and smiled, ‘If you
knew your elder was wrong, wouldn’t you say something?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘No, Miss, we would not be shouting at our
elders even if we thought they were wrong. We would smile, listen and then we would be
doing our own things anyway.’ The Indian boy gave a wide open, white toothed, smile and laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Gerry shook her head and
laughed. ‘No wonder India is a complex place…’ The boy shook his head from side
to side, sat down in Hari Om’s seat…. or whatever his name is… opposite Geraldine
and I and said, ‘Nothing doing. Ganesha will look after the young, there is no
need to worry. Would you like some chai?’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">Later on while Gerry and the
Indian boy, whose name is Jagdish, were deep in conversation about India, I
discreetly left them to find a toilet. As I walked down the narrow corridors, I
saw lots of families lying down on their berths or sitting together having their
lunch. Some of them looked up at me and I smiled at them - the returning smiles were like full
wattage light bulbs and I basked in their warmth. Finally I got to the toilets and managed to balance
myself so I didn’t pee all over the floor.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">After I finished my
absolutions, I looked around and saw Hari Om sitting with his legs outside the train door, the landscape
rushing past. He strummed his guitar lazily, looking out into the rapid
horizon. His face was back to his normal colour but clearly he was still upset,
I walked up to him.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">He turned towards me and
looked me up and down, ‘I guess you agree with your friend back there.’</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"> ‘Well,’ I said, ‘she did have a point.’ </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;">He looked down at his guitar
and then back outside and said ‘I guess we have nothing to say to each other
then. I have tried my best in this life. I am trying to find truth, whatever it
is. If my methods seem questionable then that’s your problem. I am happy the
way I am.’ I look down at this unhappy pile of a man and nodded. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> ‘Sure’ I said and then walked back into the
microcosm of India that is my train compartment.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-64178164768146278292017-11-25T17:00:00.000+00:002019-11-09T20:53:59.690+00:00Inner Shaman Adventure - Hoska Ceremony<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As I entered the check-in area at the airport, I saw my accidental Ayahuasca
doula and we greeted each other like long lost friends.</div>
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<br /></div>
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‘Are you going to Aniwa?’</div>
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‘Yes, I am!’</div>
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<br /></div>
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Little did I know that this would be a weekend of synchronicities,
magic and some deep healing. I was blessed to meet with some of the most
powerful Shamans on the planet and was a part of some very different
ceremonies, stories, discussions and rituals. To go through all the experiences
would be tantamount to a novel but when I came back to London to finally move
house, I did so with a renewed sense of wonder at the magic this planet holds
and a deep sense of gratitude to my ancestors, the elements and the Grace that
weaves my life together.</div>
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Whilst there I met a Shaman called <a href="http://www.khantara.com/">Anthar
Kharana</a> who led some of us in a hoska ceremony as part of creating and
building a labyrinth over the four days we were together. I had been involved
in rapé
ceremonies and during Aniwa had many opportunities to work with tobacco, but hoska
is known to have a softer response and was new to me. I was intrigued
to see what the medicine would bring. </div>
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We sat in a circle and Anthar spoke about the labyrinth and the
medicine it creates and how we could be a part of the magic it held. We all
agreed that we wanted to be a part of creating something loving on the island,
a space that would provide others the levels of transformation we all wanted to
achieve.</div>
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Anthar gave us the gift of song and together we sang about how we are
all family, including the animals, wind, stones and the elements, how they are
a part of us and we are a part of them. As we sang, I felt my heart open and be
closer to the earth and her magic, I felt a sense of aliveness and a deep communion
with all beings. </div>
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As Anthar delicately, and with great respect, imparted the medicine, it
worked immediately and I came into contact with the women from my two ancestral
lines. The Scottish on one side, the Italian on the other and between them they
formed a great river of tears. In their tears I could feel their strength, pain and hear their stories. I was told that my sisters and I are the
bearers of our ancestral pain, their heartbreak, love and wisdom. </div>
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I saw those women crying, expressing their deepest pain, trauma
and tragedy and my tears joined theirs - I couldn’t stop crying. I was with them, I could feel them. In that moment, I understood that the
blood contained in my veins was much more than fluid that delivers nutrients
and oxygen – it also holds history and destiny.</div>
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In a vision I saw that my sisters and I expressed this suffering and
knowledge differently, particularly with the way we approached relationships. We
three, different branches of the same river, navigating the connections in our
life, were trying to make sense of the inherited knowledge with
our own karmic ties.</div>
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I was told that part of our mission on the planet today was to heal
ourselves as well as our ancestral pain. We were placed here to start the
process of healing so that future generations will be born clean of
historical trauma and make way for a new way of living.</div>
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So let it be so. </div>
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Aho.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">You can find more adventures in Shamanism here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/inner-shaman-adventures.html">Inner Shaman Adventures</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Hoska Ceremony facilitated by <a href="http://www.khantara.com/">Anthar Kharana</a> </span></span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-83761237375259361792017-11-19T16:55:00.000+00:002019-11-09T20:54:12.851+00:00Inner Shaman Adventures - Cacao Ceremony 20<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the summer, fresh from her Cacao Shamanista training, my oldest friend agreed to
hold a cacao ceremony on magical Wimbledon Common. There were 4 of us and I
was blessed to have a deep connection with all of the participants there as well as
the common, one of my most favourite places on this earth.</div>
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We walked and found a small enclosed area in the woods and set up the
space to drink. </div>
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My intention was to decide whether to leave my lovely home in Wimbledon
and the heart space I had created for myself - my place of self-healing and
sanctuary in a place that resonated with my need for urban and country. We were
being offered a choice to live in two rooms in a shared space in Wimbledon or to move to our new
home further outside of London where space, privacy and peace abounded.</div>
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I pulled the card, ‘Transformation’ and instantly I knew what my
decision was as I could see how this new change, the next phase of my life, could be a perfect step on my path.</div>
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We lay down to journey and Old Mother Cacao came and sat beside
me.</div>
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‘Darling, the time has come.
You are entering the field of relationship on a deeper level. You need a place
to root down so you can healthily blossom in love.’</div>
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I watched her as she sat there composed, she inhaled her mapacho,
studying my situation in detail.</div>
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‘You have been waiting for
this, aching for it.’</div>
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I realised the waiting for the perfect place, and the indecisiveness of
my flatmate held its own perfect pattern. Nothing is done by accident on this
planet and my frustrations with how I felt things should be rather than how
they are melted away.’</div>
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‘In your new home you will be in the perfect
place to create sanctuary for people. You will support, heal and comfort others
on their path when they enter your home. In this space you will find peace – no more constant traffic outside
your window shaking your vibration constantly. Remember what Ayahuasca told you about
the constant interruptions to your energy fields.’</div>
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I remember seeing my auric field being constantly impacted by the
unwanted noise and how Aya had told me I would become sick if I was constantly
subjected to this sound pollution.</div>
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I saw my future as we grew as a family and how the extra people in my life would
open me up to new and wonderful experiences.</div>
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‘You will expand in love and
many people will pass through your doors and feel all the better for it.’</div>
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After a while, she looked at me and stated to me that it is time to
start working with her to heal others. She stated it is my path to work with
her as an equal and support those who need to find answers like I do as well. </div>
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‘You are ready my darling, it
is time to learn from me in a new way. Use me regularly and let me show your new path will unfold.’</div>
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When we came out of the journey I pulled the card, ‘The Lovers’. I
realised that a new path to help me refine my reserves of compassion was about
to begin.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">You can find more adventures in Shamanism here: <a href="http://graciebridges.blogspot.co.uk/p/inner-shaman-adventures.html">Inner Shaman Adventures</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Cacao Ceremonies facilitated by <a href="http://www.greatrivertaichi.co.uk/about.html">Carmen Saccone</a></span></span></div>
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1394795828521778991.post-30435689228279717062017-09-24T14:49:00.003+01:002019-11-09T20:54:48.938+00:00Season Change - Blog Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Autumn surprised me. Summer felt
like a long joyful celebration of life in many ways and I revelled in the openness that summer encourages. Fresh from the wild, I still
felt her warmth in my veins – her rhythmic pulsing of zest and extraversion. </div>
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I know I saw a few leaves touch the ground and fleetingly thought I needed to prepare
myself for season change but I somehow believed I had at least a month left to
play, to share in the expansiveness and dream. I didn't want to take notice of the signs.</div>
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And then Summer suddenly left, without a long goodbye. Overnight, trees started to dry up and crinkle around the edges. The air hinted at cooler
mornings, night started to visit a little earlier. Acorns fell to find new homes in the soil,
waiting for the squirrels to collect and store. </div>
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Internally, I felt panic. I wasn’t ready for the shed, to let go, and
change again. I felt discombobulated by seasonal change and the preparation for
fall. I wanted to cling as I still felt summer had so much more to give, I had so much more to
learn. Both the Aniwa Gathering and Into the Wild had taught me so much and there was still processing and integration occurring.</div>
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Yet the earth has its own timings, its wisdom, and continues to teach this slow student about change.</div>
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In university the students were arriving with stories to tell. When I walked in
the park on the way to work, I saw leaves that looked like static fireworks. There
were families arriving in our home, presenting yielded crops for us to feast. There was the
greeting of dusk on my bike ride home. There was the end of another course that
had continued my link to my Shamanic birthright, as I finished the medicine wheel
in its shorter form.</div>
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So many endings and new beginnings. </div>
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And now as my calendar begins to fill for the semester ahead, I feel I am now surrendering and embodying autumn. I have started to turn within. I seek silence and the
whispers of the leaves as they gently detach and start their new phase of
nurturing the soil. As I pile the clothes on to my body, I feel
cocooned from the outside and can sense the foundations for future hibernation. I can feel the rise of the feminine arising in the Western hemisphere. </div>
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I now need to heed and accept change.<br />
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Aho.<br />
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Gracie Bridgeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12383413083986341181noreply@blogger.com0