MourningSorrowfulMother

Ringletted Wight (Poem) As regards my previous post about thinking that the living can need the dead, as well as vice versa, I think there are also times when relationships with those deceased to the earth are harmful. Not necessarily because the spirits in question are “evil” or malicious, but because they don't realise or care about their deleterious effects on those on earth they get involved with or/and because those receiving their presence can't beneficially handle the energies. I have experience of that. I think the best thing to do when you are feeling out of your depth in these situations is to retreat or get assistance, because there are some very dangerous places in The Cosmos. Ringletted Wight is a poem touching upon this.  Ringletted Wight  Oh Ringletted Wight  I know you’re somewhere out there in the night  I've sensed you hover past my window pane  Beyond those black-out-curtains, sensed you drain,  the atmosphere of light while you’re unseen...

 Below is a link to a place I've always felt hugely drawn to: Crossbones Cemetery in London, England. It's a 19th century mass burial ground for female sex workers who died impoverished. At that time and place in history these were so many in number. I've always had a huge sympathy and rapport with female sex workers, although I've never been one, (in this life?). A site of neglect in their era, in contemporary times it's a shrine to them erected by caring members of the public. I believe that sometimes the dead need us and sometimes we need the dead. This is one theme of the novel I'm trying to write. I believe that love, from the angle of a deep understanding, empathy and appreciation, heals, and often people don't get that on earth. Perhaps we're born into gappy families where there's no one around for us, or not enough bonds or bonding, and that continues. It certainly is possible not to be meant to be born because there's no one and nothing ...

I have a Facebook account, though I don't go on it much. I used to save copies of the chapters I was writing to it on private mode. "Memories' came up when I logged on, three days ago on December 30th, and it featured the first chapter of the novel I've been trying to write, dated 29th December 2024. By the time I'd uploaded that, I would have spent within a few days, and two or three weeks, working on it. I would have uploaded it in the hope that it was now good enough to be a completed version - or, at least, a good enough one for the time being - so, I'm not sure exactly how long I would have been working on it before 29th December 2014.  However, it being uploaded then, means it must be roughly a year since I started trying to write a novel. A few days before 30th December, I'd tried to decide when exactly I started "Goldilocks", and I hadn't much of a clue. I couldn't decide at all. My younger daughter was very sick from birth and lat...

 I'm in mourning for my baby daughter, who died some months ago. The time before she died, when she was very ill for many months, was very traumatic too. For the past year I've been trying to write a novel as an escape from all the pain and trauma. It started as a reason to go into another world, where the most devastating reality of her disabilities, and of other extremely devastating losses that had happened over the last few years, didn't exist. I’d been a hobby writer, and at one time a poet published here and there, throughout my life, and periodically a journaler, and so to a pen and notebooks and the document apps on my phone I turned. This has continued to this day. I’ve been writing about characters who had been in my head for decades; characters invented when I’d so much wished my unhappy life was different and started to imagine an ideal one in my head. I started writing with a scene I’d once written out of a sudden compulsion about twenty seven years before in m...