When my girls were little, we often used to say 'here is good'. Maybe a picnic spot, maybe a pew in church. Often just home. Here is good. It is enough. Thank you for reminding me.
Your words are full of wonder and power. You have helped me to rethink our assumptions about growth & value. Especially when health is precarious. Or we are tired. Thank you
Oh Suzanne they are so wonderful. I've noticed they make a very specific, distinct sound when they enter the nest, kind of like a rapid clacking? It sound just like a door knocker and I always imagine it's them saying, "it's me! I'm home!" x
What a lovely quote! Yes, the same pieces rearranged in endless ways. When my partner Fraser worked at Lego, we'd often go to Lego House in Billund and, as you left, you were given a bag of six 2x4 plain Lego bricks and a little card that showed a unique combination/arrangement/construction you could make using those six bricks. Every single person got a different blueprint, because from just those six bricks there were 915 million combinations! They'll never stop being able to hand out new ones!
Thank you Josie for reminding me to slow down, breathe, and appreciate again my own equivalent of your beloved starlings, your dancing conifer and the wind chimes next door. Your gift for evoking sacredness in familiar everyday details is precious. I'm so glad you're here.
Hello dear Josie. Your words resonate deeply. I have no starlings but yours, thank you for sharing them.
Because of you I started to write again. Because of you I found the perfect birthday gift, your newest book, for a friend who also struggles. Because of you and your first book, I made an online friend who read it.
Because of you, so many unseen things weave their ways.
New things that you know nothing about.
And because of you I catch my own voice in that bloody refrain “I’m sorry.” Sorry for being ill/dull/boring/weak, sorry that nothing works, sorry, sorry, sorry.
So much love to you, Elaine. Let's stop apologising for being here, now, just as we are. We are being exactly what we need to be in this moment - just HERE, and here is good. Here is perfect. So many unseen things will be weaving their way out from you too! xx
What you always offer, dear Josie, is a new perspective. Even if you feel like you’ve offered it before - it’s new because it’s today and I still need to hear it! And, even better, what you offer is comfort to those of us who are in similar places. And that never gets old 🙏🙏🥰🥰
There is such a fundamental freshness to life, isn't there? It's not the same as 'new' or novelty, but everything is FRESH, isn't it? It can't help itself. Like dew every morning. Thank you for this, Joy (what a perfect name ❤️) x
Dear Josie, I hear you loud and clear - and resonate. There are starlings that regularly nest in the corner of the roof, just above where my desk is in the room below. I call them "Starling Darlings". It's good to speak to the other-than-human, although I don't know why. The year I turned 70 I succumbed to Long Covid, which went on for over a year - and then there has been a very slow recovery where my strength and stamina had to be rebuilt. But I was grateful for the simplicity of lying in my bed, looking out on the neighbourhood, at the gulls swooping past, at the trees on the horizon. And, yes, I went deep inside at times. I learned things there. While I can now be up and about, I reckon I know how to be still, to listen, and maybe to die. I wish you healing. Write what you can connect with in the moment. That is enough.
Honestly, these are such useful, useful lessons. Suffering is no fun, but if we can alchemise illness into learning how to continue and, yes, end our lives well, we basically win at life, I reckon. I am so pleased to hear things have eased! Thank you so much for your companionship.
you make the invisible visible to others who are too busy to see or who can not see. That is important. A life's work. Thank you for telling us about the starlings. I love them too - their beautiful feathers of rainbows and their gossiping. .
It is appreciating the small everyday things that brings contentment and fulfilment to a life. I have admired your ability to do this ever since I read your first book years ago. This post reminds me of Mary Oliver's poem "Invitation" - always one of ,my favourites. Thank you and continue to enjoy your starlings
You are not alone. I’m sure your thoughts resonate with so many of all ages and levels of decrepitude! They sure do with me.
How your words found their way into my inbox, I have no clue. However I appreciated that I saw them today and wanted to tell you that you have a gift for painting with words which goes waaaay beyond the flim-flam of life, making the detail of the ordinary sparkle.
Your words are a magic carpet for me. Their chronology is of no matter. The way they change me, the shared joys ( adoration of starlings included), the insight, the refkrctions they generate the sharing of what you live through. All matter. As of course does knowing how you are.
Thank you thank you thank you for the going deeper, the staying with and seeing the sameness again. I find the relentless drive for ‘new’ exhausting. I want slow, attention to glimmers, space to breathe. Thank you.
And also, I do hear how very very hard it is for you to be in this, again, again; how hard it is that you can’t have that new that you wish for.
Showing up to the day is enough. And the way you notice and appreciate all the tiny details, and then share them with us, is more than enough. Thank you.
When my girls were little, we often used to say 'here is good'. Maybe a picnic spot, maybe a pew in church. Often just home. Here is good. It is enough. Thank you for reminding me.
Here is SO good. So much better, often, than we think it is. Thank you for being here. Here is good with you!
Your words are full of wonder and power. You have helped me to rethink our assumptions about growth & value. Especially when health is precarious. Or we are tired. Thank you
Oh I just love that phrase. I hope I'll start using that too, Thank you
I love to hear about the starlings, I really do, please don’t ever stop telling us about them xx
Oh Suzanne they are so wonderful. I've noticed they make a very specific, distinct sound when they enter the nest, kind of like a rapid clacking? It sound just like a door knocker and I always imagine it's them saying, "it's me! I'm home!" x
Virginia Woolf said, "Arrange whatever pieces come your way."
You have a gift for arranging and re-arranging those pieces to create wonderful blimblings.
Please keep writing about the starlings and the conifer and the sounds of number 6. Someone has to be witness to the magic of our ordinary days.
What a lovely quote! Yes, the same pieces rearranged in endless ways. When my partner Fraser worked at Lego, we'd often go to Lego House in Billund and, as you left, you were given a bag of six 2x4 plain Lego bricks and a little card that showed a unique combination/arrangement/construction you could make using those six bricks. Every single person got a different blueprint, because from just those six bricks there were 915 million combinations! They'll never stop being able to hand out new ones!
Thank you Josie for reminding me to slow down, breathe, and appreciate again my own equivalent of your beloved starlings, your dancing conifer and the wind chimes next door. Your gift for evoking sacredness in familiar everyday details is precious. I'm so glad you're here.
I'm so glad you're here too! I love that we all have our own treasures, right where we are. No one is denied their own ❤️
Hello dear Josie. Your words resonate deeply. I have no starlings but yours, thank you for sharing them.
Because of you I started to write again. Because of you I found the perfect birthday gift, your newest book, for a friend who also struggles. Because of you and your first book, I made an online friend who read it.
Because of you, so many unseen things weave their ways.
New things that you know nothing about.
And because of you I catch my own voice in that bloody refrain “I’m sorry.” Sorry for being ill/dull/boring/weak, sorry that nothing works, sorry, sorry, sorry.
Because of you I am grateful. Thank you ♥️
So much love to you, Elaine. Let's stop apologising for being here, now, just as we are. We are being exactly what we need to be in this moment - just HERE, and here is good. Here is perfect. So many unseen things will be weaving their way out from you too! xx
Yes, a pact. No more sorries! ♥️
⭐️❤️⭐️
What you always offer, dear Josie, is a new perspective. Even if you feel like you’ve offered it before - it’s new because it’s today and I still need to hear it! And, even better, what you offer is comfort to those of us who are in similar places. And that never gets old 🙏🙏🥰🥰
There is such a fundamental freshness to life, isn't there? It's not the same as 'new' or novelty, but everything is FRESH, isn't it? It can't help itself. Like dew every morning. Thank you for this, Joy (what a perfect name ❤️) x
Dear Josie, I hear you loud and clear - and resonate. There are starlings that regularly nest in the corner of the roof, just above where my desk is in the room below. I call them "Starling Darlings". It's good to speak to the other-than-human, although I don't know why. The year I turned 70 I succumbed to Long Covid, which went on for over a year - and then there has been a very slow recovery where my strength and stamina had to be rebuilt. But I was grateful for the simplicity of lying in my bed, looking out on the neighbourhood, at the gulls swooping past, at the trees on the horizon. And, yes, I went deep inside at times. I learned things there. While I can now be up and about, I reckon I know how to be still, to listen, and maybe to die. I wish you healing. Write what you can connect with in the moment. That is enough.
Honestly, these are such useful, useful lessons. Suffering is no fun, but if we can alchemise illness into learning how to continue and, yes, end our lives well, we basically win at life, I reckon. I am so pleased to hear things have eased! Thank you so much for your companionship.
you make the invisible visible to others who are too busy to see or who can not see. That is important. A life's work. Thank you for telling us about the starlings. I love them too - their beautiful feathers of rainbows and their gossiping. .
The adorable gossiping and the incredible altruism.
Thank you for posting today. You and your words are always a comfort.
It is appreciating the small everyday things that brings contentment and fulfilment to a life. I have admired your ability to do this ever since I read your first book years ago. This post reminds me of Mary Oliver's poem "Invitation" - always one of ,my favourites. Thank you and continue to enjoy your starlings
Nobody writes about these things quite like you do. This brought me to tears. (In a good way.)
You are not alone. I’m sure your thoughts resonate with so many of all ages and levels of decrepitude! They sure do with me.
How your words found their way into my inbox, I have no clue. However I appreciated that I saw them today and wanted to tell you that you have a gift for painting with words which goes waaaay beyond the flim-flam of life, making the detail of the ordinary sparkle.
Your words are a magic carpet for me. Their chronology is of no matter. The way they change me, the shared joys ( adoration of starlings included), the insight, the refkrctions they generate the sharing of what you live through. All matter. As of course does knowing how you are.
Look what's already here. Thanks for this Josie.
Thank you thank you thank you for the going deeper, the staying with and seeing the sameness again. I find the relentless drive for ‘new’ exhausting. I want slow, attention to glimmers, space to breathe. Thank you.
And also, I do hear how very very hard it is for you to be in this, again, again; how hard it is that you can’t have that new that you wish for.
Showing up to the day is enough. And the way you notice and appreciate all the tiny details, and then share them with us, is more than enough. Thank you.