Your Story in 6 Words: Can You Do It?

I went to see my lovely artist friend Sandra Turnbull last week. She had an open house at her North London studio and it was, as usual, an inspiration to see her and her work. One of my favourite pieces, tucked away in a corner of her workshop was this: My Story in 6 Words.

My Story in 6 WordsEver since, I have been trying to come up with mine. I finally got it this morning: Fear, Sorrow, Music, Motherhood, Books, Magic.

My Story in 6 Words

It’s harder than you’d think to do it!  If you send me yours, use the hashtag #6WORDS and I’ll add my favourites to this page with a link to your blog. The #6WORDS can be in any format: Photos, Instagrams, Tweets, Facebook messages, comments… etc. I’ve shown you mine, I’d love to see yours:)
Your life stories in #6WORDS have been rolling in… some of my faves so far include:
Mum Older Single Story #6Words
 This from @mumoldersingle LOVE. JOY. SORROW. TRUTH. TRUST. SPACE.
 @katetakes5 made me laugh with  SEND. HELP. DROWNING. IN. ODD. SOCKS.
 @dorkymum has me intrigued with ISLAND. ESCAPE. BOOKS. POLITICS.  LOVE. LAUGHTER.
 Having had a good ol’ life chat with her a couple of days ago, I’m really feeling the one from @oldermum:    TRAUMA. VINYL. ECSTASY. PSYCHE. FEMININE. WORDS.
 Also love WINE. WHINE. SLEEP. MUNDANE. JOY. SHINE. from @actuallymummy although how a loquacious schoolgirl got hold of booze, I don’t know.
 I love them all… please keep them coming and I’ll add as many as I can X

My Friend the Watchmaker: Notes from a broken heart

Notes on a broken heart

I am sitting with an old friend in the last few warming rays of summer. We are at the edge of the days now ~ the season of endings when the long shadows  descend.

You are deeply sad.

You ask me what I know, and it is this:-

What I know is what I see, and what I see is the majesty of your heart and the vastness of your soul. I am awed by the gentleness of the former and the immeasurable warmth of the latter.

I know that life  gives us the test first and the lesson too late.

I know that we are repeatedly uprooted from our dreams, not realizing we were sleeping so deeply. That we are constantly propelled into the wilderness not having realized we were on trial until we have either lost or failed.

I know that the road ahead is perilous, littered with broken stems, lost compasses, illegible maps and glass splinters. And I know that if you have to, you will walk it blind and still find your way home.

I know that buried in your heart is a masterful clock. Its skeletal coils are wrapped around invincible cogs that move too quickly through the joy and too slowly through the shadows.

And I know that soon, in some arbitrary second, this clock will silently reset itself and you will begin again.