Home…?!

Home…?!

Home. Funny word that.

Home is where my parents are. Or the hotel in whichever country I am travelling around. Or my bedroom in my flat share. Or my sisters’ flats, when they cook me good food. Or my friends’ homes, when I stay overnight.

I have always felt like I am still searching for home too. I am fluid, life flows, and so adapting to circumstances is in my blood. As you may already know from previous posts, my family has migrated from Middle Asia across to Europe, and back to the Far East, while others born all over the Middle East have travelled to Europe and the West. So, yes, to me, home is, in essence, this world, and wherever I lay my head each night.

I only mention this ability to adapt to circumstances because I know that there are many people out there who consider change a “bad thing”. People I work ‘with’ (ahem, work for…), or drink with… those whose families date back centuries, all of whom were born, lived, and died in one place, their little part of the world. Those who were “freed” when the Berlin Wall went down, but who harked back to the time when communism gave them a structure they could understand.

People are habitual. A lot of us will dig our feet in, trying to avoid those changes. I have done it too – in a spiritual sense; but that’s a different story I won’t tangent on right now.

So this afternoon, when I stepped off the plane and caught the bus back to the street on which I live currently, I was staring out the window at the beautiful autumnal colours of the cherry, oak, sycamore, birch and maple trees, and sighed to myself dreamily, “It’s good to be home.”

My next thought followed quickly: “It won’t be home for long.”

Changes are a’brewing. Winds will blow me to Northern Europe, in search of another home to bed down in, to get to know.

I know though, that wherever I am, I will always be searching for ‘home’.

Because home isn’t a place. Or people. It’s a person.

Despite all my cynicism, I am not ashamed to admit…

I still believe in love, and most especially, in companionship…

In wanting to spend time with someone who inspires, motivates, encourages, honours and respects you; someone who is attracted to you because you are emotionally, socially and financially independent, rather than someone who is needy, or simply a trophy.

Small edit to the paragraph above, 06 Nov 2016:

The same can also be said for true friends – for those are the ones who stick by you through thick and thin, see you at your worst and pull you out of that darkness; those who believe in you and your ability to help them, to hold them up also, and be there when they need you, just as much as they will always tell you the truth of any subject – “yes, [my] ass does look big in that dress, but that’s the point, isn’t it chicka?”

All of this is what a true companion is as well, except you get a bit more touchy-feely-ness from them; the cuddles in the early hours of the morning, and when you reach over in bed during the night, searching for that warm skin beneath your fingers. That is a much more intimate companionship, but just as acceptable on all levels.

This evening, I would like to raise a glass to all those strong, independent people out there, who are also searching for their own ‘home’, whether it’s a place, a person, or simply a state of mind.

Peace. Love.

Jojo xx

Image: Sunset over Luxembourg, November 2016

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. November 2016.

Passed my Level 2 Assessment!!


Thanks to Tom (centre) and Bert (right), for being really amazing chaps, and doing the Survival School Level 2 Assessment – and passing it – with me!
What a weekend… thanks to Graham and Dave, Instructors at Survival School – your patience and guidance were greatly appreciated throughout the weekend.

I can’t wait to get the grit out from under my fingernails, scrub myself clean, and cook myself some warm food… oh wait, I can’t do the last – I’m off to Madeira tomorrow lunchtime! Diving, hopefully, if not too cold?!

Keep you posted…

Jojo – solo wanderer, adventurer, solivagant xx

Left to right: Bert & Tom on fire bow & drill; Dave & Graham in uniform, looking on – instructing! 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

A. E. Housman: A Shropshire Lad

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither; here am I.
Now – for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart –
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind’s twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
I want to say thank you to a lovely man in my life for sharing this poem with me; I am even more appreciative of the fact that he only remembered this poem because of me (I blush at that, lol).

The words certainly resonate with me, and while I don’t understand all the references, I did come away with a general feeling – that we’re here only a short time and we should enjoy it while we can.

No wonder my friend thought of me – I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

Read more on the poem here: Housman.pdf

And here: Poets’ Corner – A.E. Housman

Read more on the poet here: A.E. Housman, 1859-1936

 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

​I love those moments…

​I love those moments…

 

I drive along country roads in autumn;

warm,

vibrant,

coloured leaves fall from the trees,

dancing,

twirling around the top of the car in front,

and swirling in a mini hurricane that I drive through unseen.

 

Waking up on a Saturday morning in my own bed,

not hungover,

and realising I don’t have to work till Monday –

I eat, toilet and crawl back into my dreams.

 

I watch the sun set over the city from a bedroom window,

shafts of piercing sunlight,

highlight,

the miniature tornadoes of bugs,

hovering yet circling,

from the heights of the buildings down to the street –

formerly invisible, discreet.

 

The awkward moment when I have to put on a show,

that everyone believes is truth,

but that I know,

is just another face of my many;

and the butterflies keep whirling,

the excitement,

the adrenaline.

 

The look on a baby’s face when it’s all scrunched up from crying,

and how it changes bit by bit,

from the chin up,

when you make that little face smile again.

 

Breathing in the scent of a man,

as I lean into him,

my arms entwined

around his strong forearm,

surrounded by the masses,

as we stroll through the drizzly,

vibrant night streets of London.

 

Listening to music while on a journey,

loudly,

and hearing the full song to the end when I’ve already switched off the engine,

some time ago.

 

Reading a book that makes me laugh,

or cry,

or get angry,

or any of the aforementioned combination;

or simply enlightens me,

helps me escape to worlds of wonder,

and detachment.

 

Walking out of an office building in winter,

it’s already dark –

but taking comfort when I look up,

and see a blanket

of stars,

pinpricks in thick dark blue velvet.

 

Waiting to catch a bus or a train,

in the early morning hours,

when it’s frosty out –

I’m all wrapped up warm,

cosey hat and scarf up to my bottom lip,

I see my breath come out in playful swirls,

then dissipate.

 

Going for a walk on a crisp winter morning,

just as the sun is rising,

its rays strike the stark empty branches of a tree,

dividing through them,

to bounce off the sparkling dew-crystallised grass below,

on the other side.

 

The sound of waves as they lap gently

against a moon-drenched shore,

the wind a veritable friend

chasing the waves

cooling the heat of my skin

as I sit there silently,

watching,

listening.

 

Springtime in a forest,

the sounds of the birds,

the light of the sun streaming through the tree tops

the baby green of the plant life

erupting all around you.

 

Laughing,

laughing a lot

and even at the wrong moments –

but it’s good for my soul

and those around me,

so why stop being a wee bit silly?

 

I love these moments… and so many more.

 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

Poetry Contest Deadline: November 1st

To encourage other budding poets out there…

the poet's billow

The Atlantis Award is given to a single best poem. The winning poet receives $200 and will be featured in an interview on The Poet’s Billow web site. The winning poem will be published and displayed in the Poet’s Billow Literary Art Gallery. Up to five finalists will be considered for publication. *The contest deadline has been extended to November 1st*

We nominate for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net Anthology, and The Best New Poets Anthology.

See our submission page for details.

Read last year’s winner and finalists.

View original post

USA, UK and France committing a war crime by flying over Syria in support of terrorists

I just want to make everyone all over the world more aware of what’s going on right now…

Uprootedpalestinians's Blog

US, Britain and France now air force for terrorists in Syria

By Finian Cunningham | RT | October 9, 2016

For nearly six years, Washington and its allies have gotten away with playing a cynical double game in Syria’s war. But now the mask is slipping to reveal the ugly face of Western involvement – it is openly siding with terrorists.

Russia was correct to veto a French-sponsored draft resolution at the UN Security Council this weekend. Along with American and British vigorous support, the French proposal centered on halting military flights over the besieged northern Syrian city of Aleppo.

As Russia’s foreign ministry commented, the French initiative was tantamount to giving air cover for insurgents dominated by the internationally proscribed terrorist group Jabhat al Nusra. In short, a no-fly zone protecting terrorists would have been imposed in violation of Syrian sovereign rights, as well as international law.

An alternative draft…

View original post 1,039 more words