Earth Day…

Photo by Valentin Antonucci on

Yesterday, my garden was finished. I have such gratitude for my garden. It is peaceful even though one can hear children playing, the occasional lorry at the roundabout 200 yards away.

So my garden celebrates Earth Day with me. I rejoice in nature as it reminds me of the splendour of God. All those intricate patterns on leaves. On flowers. On the birds that feed at my feeders and seek worms in the soil.

It is magical to me. I take rest there. I snooze there. I read there. A garden is healing to the soul like a drink is refreshing to the body.

I hope you have enjoyed Earth Day and find ways to lighten your tread upon this planet.



I have no memory of learning to read. My first memory of reading was sitting on the floor in front of my Dad while he read the Sunday newspaper. When he changed to another section, I read the back of that.

Anything with words were read by me. I went through my Dad’s book shelf, my sister’s text books. Her homework. I read just about every book in my classroom.

The topic was irrelevant. Whether a story, a recipe, a DIY manual. I am grateful that I never came across pornography or erotica.

When my parents had a boot room added to the home, I watched every move. The foundations, right through to the roofing. Used bricks were chosen so that it would blend with the rest. I know because I asked.

My parents renovated the house themselves, only paying for skills they did not have. The lights would go on and off at will, until my parents could afford to have the house rewired. I learned the best placed to put electric sockets.

I can paint a room perfectly because I watched my parents. I have painted many of the places I have lived in. I know how to hang wallpaper, though I have never desired to do so.

I watched my parents build a garage. I know about plumb lines, how to place each brick, how to knock a brick in half. I have never used this knowledge; the only walls I’ve built are for flower beds which I don’t want to look perfect.

I know how to maintain the exterior of a house. This I use infrequently as I live in a terraced cottage.

My mother could not teach me to knit as I am left handed. So taught myself and later my mother gave me a very rare compliment on how good my knitting is. My mother lacked any patience, it was her way or no way. My daughter learned to knit from me. She is also left handed, but I allowed her method to be whatever worked for her. She made some scarves, and quit. It is not cool to knit.

Education is not filling an empty mind but igniting a fire

My knowledge extends to greasing joints, changing spark plugs, choosing a good used car.

My great love is gardening. I guess I got this from my mother and my Dad. I don’t do straight lines like my mother, however. I like to see flowers jostling together, in unruly fashion.

My passion is also to teach. I loved teaching my daughter as she asked to learn. I also used incidences to teach her. Like when she heated nail varnish in a pan on the stove. I was alerted by her screams and then, running downstairs, the smoke alarm. I threw a wet dishcloth over it, not understanding her refusal to wet one (I wanted to change places with her so she would not get burnt). Then she told me she had added water and it got worse. We chatted about putting out fires.

Learning is not just academic. There are so many practical skills to learn. I admire practical skills so much. I admire carpentry in particular. My Opa was a cabinet maker and made beautiful furniture and objects of nature. The remaining ones are in my home as my mother destroyed so many.

Published in KnowThyself, Heal Thyself


Overall, a good day…

This morning my man put together my replacement swing seat. It is wooden so will not rust or rot. It fits perfectly where the old one was. I planted while he was here, and our chat was companiable. He is such a quality man.

A friend contacted me today to say he is coming tomorrow to help in the garden.y He is another man of quality. I have such wonderful friends in my life. They far outweigh the empty headed people who abuse me on Facebook. Gossips are toxic.

It is so satisfying to see progress in the garden. It is such a healing pastime. I believe we are innate gardeners, the spark just needs to be lit. I have gardened since childhood. And in every country I have lived in.

I have a new pain. It is in my ribs but also a spasm of a muscle under my ribs. The pain is incredible. Until a new prescription arrives I use gin and bitter lemon for relief. I don’t like doing this but it is temporary.

I have told my boss at SWAST about the ridicule and abuse I have had on Facebook. He has complete faith in me and said how much value I have brought to SWAST.

I am so grateful to work for such a fantastic organisation.


Some people in my town…

Yesterday, I found a lot of abuse on my post in a forum for my town. Such ignorance and stupidity.

It all starts with Benn Jackson breaking his word and lying about me. How foolish they are. What meaningless lives they have. Gossip without checking any facts.

Such empty people. So sad. They have my pity.

It seems rare for people to have a purposeful life these days.

I wakened with pain today. I monitor my blood sats and know what causes them to drop, so that is useful.

I am grateful to no longer need antibiotics or steroids.


How Trauma Affects Our Body

There are a lot of people going about their lives with the effects of trauma affecting their body, sleep, mind, and relationships. They often seek help from a physician and are given a prescription that either doesn’t work, or numbs their mind and emotions.

Trauma takes many forms — we mostly associate it with a form of violent physical impact. These can be a car wreck, rape, assault, being shot etc. Continued domestic abuse is trauma, as is being hit once by someone you trust, being bullied in childhood is trauma, any abnormal parenting is trauma although as children we believe it to be normal. Whenever it is realized as harmful people often don’t know what to do.

Other trauma may be the death of a parent, or their abandonment, being forced to do labor around the house (I don’t mean age appropriate chores like doing dishes, or helping to wash the car).

Many ailments are caused by trauma; headaches, neck pain, back pains, tension, insomnia, anxiety, memory loss, stomach problems.

This is because we are body and mind. They are not separate. If an ailment is begun though trauma, it is no less real than being caused by inflammation.

Here is an example. A young woman was driving a car and reached a four way stop. A truck was coming from the left, some 100 yards away. The young woman started to cross the junction, in accordance with Californian law.

Her next memory was feeling incredibly tired. She proceeded to drive but the car was making a clunking sound. She pulled over and tried to get out to look out the outside of the vehicle. The driver’s door would not open. She climbed through the passenger side and walked around. She saw only a large dent.

Getting back in through the passenger side, she caught sight of her hair in the rear view mirror. It was red with blood, all down the long length of it, and her shirt was red with blood too, and some on her jeans. She saw a bluish grey mark about one inch in a triangular shape. She still was unable to realize what had happened.

Deciding to turn around to get help, she came across some people roughly her age. She stopped and asked if they would call her home number. She noticed that they looked scared of her.

All this time her ability to drive was not impaired.

When we are in shock we continue to function.

The next thing she knew was that she had paramedics talking to her and cutting off the car door. Then she was in the ambulance being asked what year it was. She was troubled that they did not know. She is unable to recall if she answered or not.

Her next memory is in the Emergency Department. Someone she could not see said that she need stitches. A shaver started to buzz. This triggered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from a previous, devastating incident. She started to scream, tears flowing. The staff were kind enough to reassure her. She was able to gradually stop her screams.

In all, she had 40 stitches in her head from the top of her forehead going over her skull, and above her right eyebrow.

The husband of the family with which she was living arrived with another of her friends. We’ll call that man Joe.

The paramedics had called Joe and told him to get to Pomona City hospital quickly as the young woman was bleeding out badly. This was a trigger for Joe, as his brother had committed suicide a few years previously.

When the hospital finally said that young woman could go, she sat up to leave but her friend insisted she remove her shirt and, wearing a shirt over a T shirt, gave her shirt to be worn home. This was the first time young woman saw her shirt properly. She described it as having a red front with just a few places of pink and white stripe left visible.

Joe carried the young woman to his car. He later carried her into the house.

His wife wanted to help her wash her face. On seeing her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the young woman passed out.

This accident traumatized the young woman. For years she was terrified when a car approached a T junction with the road on which she was driving. A highway she had used regularly with a left turn became a torture. One day she was waiting to turn, but froze. She could not trust her own judgment anymore even though the car wreck had not been her fault.

Fortunately, a very kind driver drew level with her on the right and signalled to pull out at the same time. She thumbed up her thanks and pulled out in tandem with the other car, dropping behind as her next turning was on the right.

  • Carried. When the young woman was carried by Joe, that tight holding started a recovery. Trauma is lessened by tight hugs, holding, and cradling. A nervous system so damaged by the violence and anarchy of the car wreck, responds to tight holding. In all, Joe carried her four times, as on the way home from the hospital he took her to church to be prayed for. He was hugged by older people who were there. Her peers were too scared of her wounds. He then carried her back to the car, and then carried her into the house. Later, he would carry her when she fainted after having her stitches removed.
  • Talking. Many friends visited her while she was recovering. The couple let her use their double bedroom during the day, and she often lay beside her friends as they talked. This started the healing process. Traumatized people tend to repeat themselves if they have no one to listen to them soon after the cause. This has been noted in patients who have been in Intensive Care.

So, we see that the two main therapies are holding and listening. These are the primary needs of a baby. If they are not held they will not thrive. If they are not heard when they cry, their needs cannot be met.

I have laid my body over a woman who was crying from trauma. I was careful not to be inappropriate. A man in my care collapsed. His face was drained of all color. I knew he was bleeding internally. An emergency was made and I knelt beside him shouting his name, it brought him to near consciousness but the paramedics got it wrong and put him on their gurney with both head and feet raised. They should have only raised his feet so that blood would still reach his heart and brain.

References: My notes taken while in a therapeutic relationship with the young woman. Sue Chamberlain, SRN, Intensive Care nurse, UK.

Published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself


Church of England

Photo by Cosmic Timetraveler on Unsplash

I’m a private person I admit, but I live in openness

No secrecy for me, no lies — my memory is not that good

Oh how you bewitched me and yet failed me all the time

You took the money I put as offerings, the meals I brought

The errands I did for those who needed help

You bewitched me and then turned your backs

Free me, free me from the doctrines of the Niceans

Erase from me the falseness of Constantine’s mould

Unbind my mind from the lies you teach

And the occult in which you play out your rules

No one could have been crueler, not even a demon from hell

No one expects betrayal and sell out from those who call ‘sister’

Is given stones when they ask for bread or trust

Shunned when visited by violence in your offices

In law we have ‘habeas corpus’ — due process, transparency

But I learn to my abhorrence, you practice the arts of darkness

Straight from the pits of hell, and until I realised the trick

I thought I was insane, crazed, and my beliefs confounded

I thought so many times to drive into the harbour, into a bus

To take so many pills I would not wake again and feel such agony

Which I thought to be visited on me by God — but he is good

My child is far too beloved that you should steal from her!

You formed a file about me which had a direct lie within

The words of those who knew nothing of the assault on my person

And the vague references made had no sense to me at all

– because there was no veracity contained therein

You branded me a nuisance, a whiner, worse still a liar

Hearsay poured out, but in the wrong context — gossip dead straight

I was bewildered by your questions because they had no relevance

To me or anything I knew, seven false allegations

Wipe my mind clean, cleanse me O God, this pain is yours

They assumed an email was from me, but no, my ex’s concern for our child

Because his account was born in my pc and thus an alias of my account

But Lord you were betrayed by your own people

I will not again enter the doors of established Christendom — it does not exist

You follow Constantine not the Lord or his teaching of love

Jesus did not come to start a religion, but to make the way to God

Open again, and to stand in the gap for us. Not ways of the dark

I will flourish, I will blossom and you have cursed yourselves

In cursing me. May God forgive you if you admit your wrong I cannot

And no one should be allowed to join your church, your dagger poised,

To stab and ignore if they should fall foul of your world of ‘Vicar is God’

Published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself


Some of my readers…

Some people come here to be nosey. There are people who behaved so badly as neighbours that they were mentioned in my blog. I never say where I live, and would never put my address on here.

They moved because they were stupid and don’t realise there are many people with that last name here.

I am so glad they are that stupid as they made my life untenable and refused requests from the council and even the police to stop causing me agonising pain.

Who does that? Who knowingly causes unbearable pain to another human being? Torture is a war crime. They were torturing me.

They send their minions to hassle me. They don’t live a purposeful life. They live with bitterness and unkindness.

I am enjoying better neighbours now. I have made a window box for them and passed some of my daughter’s childhood things to their children.

I enjoy giving pleasure to others. I always have.

The previous neighbour believed me to have fake accounts. I’m not sure what that means. The flowers I sent were returned. She has written to other people about me maliciously.

What a tiny, sad, mind.


I gave myself a day off…

As Wednesday had been so stressful, I decided to take it easy yesterday. I did start some writing but left it incomplete.

I planted a few plants and watered them all. They are suffering as they have been left too long. This is what happens when someone breaks their word. I am reliant on other people. I need them to be reliable. And they were paid with very good quality items.

I was in touch with friends in Malaysia and Leeds. Another friend in Reading always makes contact. My friends in Virginia are always there for me. Friends since I was twenty.

I went out for a brief time which made me feel better too. I can see the harbour from my window, but being outdoors outside of my garden was good.

I like to smile at people, I am surprised at how many don’t smile back. But others will be helpful. A man saw that I was struggling to put my scarf over my shoulder and did it for me without being patronising in any way. People like that are wonderful.

I now have to be treated for the side effects of so much steroids passing through my mouth. I have oral thrush which I have never had before.

It promises to be a bright sunshine day. I hope the temperature rises.


Yesterday was tough…

I had a very stressful day yesterday. I had to sort out a problem with the delivery man from the pharmacy. All good now.

Then the NHS trust that I work for asked me to complain to BT about a 999 call that caused delay in responding to my need. I had told them as a point of improvement. It turns out though, after three calls, that the emergency service required must deal with the complaint.

It was the most difficult day I’ve had in ages. I went to bed at tenish but woke t 4am.

Today is sunny. I shall try to do some planting in my garden.


Paramedics yesterday…

This meme is for amusement only. I don’t drink every day. Far from it.

Yesterday I awakened feeling pretty good. I was writing and communicating with my lead at SWASFT. I cannot say how wonderful these people are.

I gradually realised my chest was heavy. I went downstairs to open my post. After a package proved challenging, I found I could not breathe.

Paramedics, who were so much fun, fixed me. I felt alive again. One finished opening my package, took out my recycling, and made me a cup of tea. I am required to have a drink after nebulsation. It affects the mouth and throat.

I carried on after that with a smile in my heart.

I found the evening very tiring. The Subutamol had left me wired. And exhausted. I went to bed earlier than normal. I am up early and the birds are beginning to sing.