Wednesday, 20 June 2018

Absence makes the heart grow strong

Absence does make the heart grow strong. It makes mine grow more sure, more full, more absolute in my love for you.

Today as I missed you terribly, I felt huge engulfing sensations of utter impressive empowerment alongside a truth in my soul of our unity.

I know you will always let me be free. And I you.

I know you will always be with me no matter how far I go.

I know you will always support me no matter how much I change & grow.

I know you will always be with me. Are always with me. For we are in each other.

We know us. We are always us.

Being apart does not change the us, the companionship, the truth, the bond of us.

It just proves its strength. Its power. Its truth.

For being with you is the answer to all my quests. And the question?

Who is the one to love me like no other, like I am the best, to be each others favourite, to see in me something that allows me to be the version of myself that I like best.

Being with Ivor is my best. I do not jest. We are each others lifes quest.

Previously our hearts broken and put through many a test.

Now we are united, our heart & souls can heal, love the greatest and honourably rest.

I may be a wordsmith. But for you words are not enough.

They are not of enough strength, or profess enough power that describes our unique and awe inspiring connection.

All I am  left to acknowledge is this...

I have everything to give to only you. And I know you match me in everything back.

You are my one true love, my star travelling wanderer, my soul mate & twin flame.

YOU are the absolute end game.

All I see is you.

In everything I do.

You you you you you.

Ivor Gott the everything of Blou.

I love all of you.

I do.

Wouldn't change any of you.

Proud of you.

It will always be you.

I see everything anew & always in it, I see you.

I. Love. You.


Friday, 11 May 2018

Special People

Sometimes you meet extra special people
Who treat you nothing but kind
You do the same for these beauties, so of course you do not mind

and yet

It still comes as a shock to you
Coz you internally question why
They care for you to the moon and back
Around the world for you, they’d fly

Every time they do something amazing
You give something amazing right back
You all go round and round the reciprocal kindness track

Yet really underneath it all
Is the purest need to say
I love you deeply my friend
I could just be with you all day

Saturday, 28 April 2018

Adventures of a wonderful life

Sometimes things are so wonderful I cant help but pinch myself to check I’m not dreaming.

This weekend past we took my beloved campervan, Beryl for an overnight camp. Just a single night away under the stars to have a teeny tiny mini break. Its amazing how much of an impact one night in a campervan can make to your rest and refresh.

We aimed for the nearby forest of Ae but the gates were closed to the forest and river tracks as there was some serious logging going on. Huge lorries and gigantic areas being cleared so we cleared off and drove a little further down the road until the perfect spot revealed itself to us.

By the side of Kilder lake we found our perfect spot. A stunning combination of wide open mirror glass reflective still waters, huge blue cloudless sky, forest woods, quiet road and no one else other than the occasional dog walker and HUGE logging lorries (more on that in a mo...) We tidied up the area and set about collecting left behind scorched wood from previous fires and new dry wood to burn with the scraps we had from home.

The burnt fire sign amused us so much we bought it home.

We set up our van within minutes just needing a little lift up onto the chocks for bed angle perfection. we sat by the lake as dinner cooked, the rum flowed and my beloved made the most impressive fire wood pile and got a right good fire roaring to life in mere minutes.

As a car approached I watched in hysterics as my fire wood collecting extraordinaire realised that they had left an eight foot  tree  in the middle of the road. This sure had them moving quickly to prevent the car approaching round the curvaceous bends behind colliding with the temporarily dropped log. Disaster averted, car passed safely to the view of a mad sweaty elf standing holding a tree at the roadside. So much amusement on both our parts.

The rest of the wood safely collected and stored van side and not road middle, we lit pretty lanterns to help guide us away from the jetty edge so we didn’t fall into the lake. The huge licking flames from the fire cast a bright warm flickering light, blinding us to the waters edge as the dark sky enveloped us. Said lamps were soon knocked into the water by previously mentioned eight foot tree being swung onto the fire.

We chatted nonsense, laughed all night, sipped rum, watched the sky turn from turquoise to indigo to black. Then we lay on a rug under a thick woolly blanket and watched the stars appear and the fire sprites dance off into the sky.

As we snuggled and cuddled under our blanket a strange rumbling roar seemed to come across the water towards us. we sat up to listen and noticed huge bright lights coming over the road before us.

The noise was reverberating off the trees on the opposite side of the lake and getting louder and louder. After staring into the sound from the darkness for some moments and then staring at each like ‘whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?’ we soon realised it was a huge logging lorry hurtling towards us. We pulled the blanket close around our bodies and tried not to look directly into its many many headlights as it appeared speedily around the corner and lit up everything in its path. Including us and our over night cosy camp. Not just one lorry charged past but two, no three, total six huge lorries. All lit up, busy transporting trunks while honking and beeping at our gorgeous camp position and I don’t mean the fire...

They honked at us. We giggled. And waved back. Laying wrapped around each other in bliss, grateful that this was our Saturday night and we were neither driving to and from work or being subjected to the scary possibility of meeting those trucks coming down such a narrow and winding lane. No thank thee.

As we snacked on cheese and olives in front of the fire a huge white wall flash went across the sky. We looked at each other in surprise and then elation as we realised it was thunder! Another loud clap crashed in the clouds that were building behind us. A quick check on our phone informed us of the incoming amber weather warning for heavy rain. But we did not care. We have a van to camp inside and we both love thunder and lightning. Eventually big dollops of rain drove us back into the van where we left the door open, listening to the thunder roll dramatically around the skies above us, the pitter patter of rainfall increasing to a powerful deluge dance moving towards us from across the lake like a symphony crescendo. To the sounds of intermittent bird squawks, insect chatter and the rolling thunder we fell asleep in each others arms.

Sunday morning was pure bliss. The sky was grey, a constant drizzle drifted from the sky. But our hearts and souls were full of sunshine, full of contentment and joy. We wake and bake and snooze some more. Munching on treats and drinking dirty chai as we slumber under each other, under the sound of light rain blowing on the van and wriggling around the crumbs in our bed.

On our second awakening we talked about the future, laced a long single colourful weave into my loves dreads to make a permanent tie back and cuddled under the worlds thickest, heaviest fluff blanket. The world was a beautiful place. We rested well, ate well, snuggled really well and finally packed up to trundle home with smiles beaming so wide and so bright we did not need headlights to light the way ahead through the grey but not in the slightest miserable day.

Eternally grateful for such a simple, wonderful life. And my beautiful mental elf.

Friday, 9 February 2018

Blou Rain Hyland

Blou Rain Hyland

So this happened a few weeks ago but I have been too busy to find the time to write about it. What with university submissions, performance preparations and getting stuck into a new part time job and an exciting new business venture. 

But finally, its now's official. I am now renamed by deedpoll.
I feel true to myself and am finally Blou.

I made this choice after so much consideration and deliberation over the years.

I made myself an email address in 2007 – Blueloublou and thus started friends calling me Blue Lou.
I also started to connect with my second nickname Rain (from Lou-Rain) in 2009 when I set up my new blog Citizen Rain.

And then, in January 2017, my world fell apart and refracted. As I rebuilt it and put the pieces of myself back together I felt more Blou Rain than I had ever felt before. The time had come to finally own a name I felt represented my true nature.

It was based upon a number of considerations:-

  • A life long desire to get rid of a despised middle name. My mum openly regretted giving it to me, in an old fashioned attempt to try and please her adopted mother who turned out to be an absolute horror to us both. A name that I never felt connection to. Even as a child before I understood my mother’s history with it.  I have never used it, nor shared it. I am glad it is now officially removed, although spiritually it happened years ago.
  • My true first name, my official Sunday name, is Lorrain (yes without an e, its not a typo – and therein lies a whole new opportunity for many 'not using e' related stories. But that’s perhaps for another time...) Anyway my name was Lorrain. I acquired the nickname Lou when I was but a nipper and in my teens this was rediscovered, repeated and it stuck. I was glad to be Lou. It was more me, less Northfleet. Less Sharon Tracey and Lorrain from the estate or the office. (Prounounced Shaaaaraaan, Traaaaceeee and Laaarraine by the way.)
  • However in later life, in my place as part of my new home and community in the south west of Scotland, I met some friends who didn’t accept that Lorrain was such an awful sound for me to relate to myself. to be fair it does sound better in a Scottish accent. Yet it had connotations from my childhood, some ways the name can be pronounced, especially shouted, could send me into a PTSD place, formed by some of the abusive situations I had witnessed as a nipper. And I found myself frequently explaining some of this to my friends, as I requested they refrain from calling me Lorrain. "But its YOUR NAME!" They would profess. But still, no, I retained, my name is Lou. I only use Lorrain in a work capacity, or for official things like the electoral role.
  • I still hated it until wickerman, the year 2011 I think. During which, a good friend of mine and bum wiggling conductor of the local choir, purposefully and unwillingly on my part, first put me through community inspired exposure therapy to the tune of 70 plus choir members saying in unison “thanks Lorrain.” So big thanks to Graham Main. You started a yearly trend that in 2017 came to an impressive end when not only did the choir at Eden repeat the exposure again but including an audience of approximately one thousand people to call out "Thanks Lorrain.". I cried with joy and acceptance for the loving memories now related to this version of myself.
  • Yet my ongoing childhood obsession with planet earths resplendent display of the colour blue, (well all things blue really) and the acceptance that although I've been Lou to my darling dad & most friends for 30 odd years, it's just not quite how I feel about me, truly, since I set up my Citizen Rain blog almost 10 years ago. And so the blue lou rain ball began to roll stroll, grow and glow again.
Rather than shedding a new skin, I have grown a new coat. An imaginary majikal cape of armour, made from the shimmering sequins of my tiny fairy warrior inner being. I’ve added to who I am becoming, by being someone I was once was before. And yet I am a new version.
Blou Lou point two.

And it struck me, as I found myself signing into a building for the first time using the initials, B Hyland, that I realised the final homage here. To my mother. Mrs B Hyland. My birth mother, mother earth and spiritual guide. She would love the fact that I have taken her initial as my own, riding my vibration of the names I never felt honour of, yet taking on her initial with great pride. My new name is of great homage to my parents. Although they have not been together for over 20 years, this is something I feel I own as a reflection of myself and the amazing parentage who have supported me to the person I am today. Through my new name I honour my mum with the B for Beryl (Bezza to those who knew her) and Hyland for my wonderful and impressive dad. As I made this final discovery a piece of paper found its way mysteriously from a box in my office to the bedroom floor in my house reading:

"YOUR ONLY OBLIGATION IN ANY LIFETIME IS TO BE TRUE TO YOURSELF. BEING TRUE TO ANYONE ELSE OR ANYTHING ELSE IS NOT ONLY IMPOSSIBLE, BUT THE MARK OF A FAKE MESSIAH. - to my beautiful daughter, who I miss so very much, but love so dearly that you are always by my side. Take care Lou, All my love, Mum."

Proudly like a butterfly from its chrysalis, I rise with transformative splendour. I shimmy and flutter my invisible wings, stretch my arms wide and shake off the hardship of a long hard life lesson learned.

The final scars faded, the wounds healed. I raise my head proudly, face to the sky and call upon myself to always be grateful of learning, to carry the virtue of honesty and kindness in my soul and to dare greatly in the pursuit of happiness. Be Lou. I say to myself. Actually B Lou. Blou. 

So I made it official. Blou Rain Hyland.

Its ok if you forget and continue to call me Lou, as another friend pointed out last week, perhaps to some people the B will remain silent. I laughed. Its probably the only thing about me that could ever B silent.

Thank you to everyone who has offered me support and wisdom through my life journeys so far.
You know how far I have travelled and how much I have lost and gained. 
But now I feel whole again. 
And so begins the reign, of Citizen Blou Rain.

Peace, love and light, Blou

Thursday, 11 January 2018

Sick in the head and stuck in bed

Having a rock bottom, I hate myself day today.

Its worse when you know logically you are really blowing things out of proportion, that you have everything you could need to live a happy full life, that people love you, that you have a roof over your head, prosperity, food in your belly and many things in your bright future to keep you going.

Its worse because on any other given day I know how lucky I am, and compared to others I have no reason to feel so low.

I am literally making myself sick in the head while stuck in my sick bed.

Its attachment to achievement that drags me down. Validation through action so tightly ribboned around my present, that I cant gift myself the position of being ill.

I tell me and friends tell me – Its ok to not be ok.

So why do I lay here crying about how hard today feels for me?

My obvious good fortune on paper, makes things worse for me. Especially all the small meaningless tasks I have been putting off. All those things that will take 10 – 20 minutes.
‘oh I can do that tomorrow, it wont take 10 minutes.’
‘I can do that in the Christmas holidays.’ 
‘ach its Christmas, do it in the new year.’ its new year.

I look at the long list of things to do and berate myself for not having done them yet.

My neggy naggy voice (he’s called Ken) tells me what a waste of space I am. He tells me over and over that I am not as focused organised clever I like to think, because LOOK!!! here is the proof that you actually don’t get things done. Right here. Actual proof. Here is a list of things you should have done when  you very first noted they needed doing.

You are letting things slip, says Ken.
You are lazy, says Ken.
You are worthless, says Ken

And there it is. One day of feeling low and doing nothing and Ken tries to rewrite everything good I believe about myself.
Why am I like this today?

Have a experienced a trauma – no.
Have I done something wrong – no
The answer - I am ill. That is all.

And being ill is stopping me from thinking straight, from acting normally, from speaking with my usual compassionate filter. Ken should recognise that I have good reason for not functioning well.
I have a truly rotten cold. Not flu, (that is a different bug bear of mine, which I may explain another time) but it is a bad cold. My temperature keeps going up and down. I have limited lung capacity, excessive phlem, sore throat, a horrid cough and a banging headache. Along with all of these physical symptoms, somehow in between coughing up crap and blowing my nose I seem to have lost my sense of self and my sense of humour.

In fact people trying to have a laugh or cheer me up are severely pissing me off.

Usually on days like this I hide away from people. But I cant. I have a lovely lodger who does not deserve to feel the force of my forked tongue. I have a beautiful partner who I most definitely do not want to see me like this, let alone hear the absolute garbage that is spilling from my mouth.
I have a virus but it seems to have infected my personality too.
I have self loathing for being unable to function, even though I tell myself on a minute by minute basis to not be so hard on myself.

I am run down, my poison parrot, or as I like to call it the extremely loud and obnoxious neggy naggy voice in my head that behaves like the drunken asshole in the pub who we all placate but never respect, takes advantage and shouts as loud as possible about how little I am achieving. As if sleeping, healing and being able to get myself and my ferocious headache to the bathroom and back isn’t accomplishment enough.

Ken is trying to undo all the good I have done so far this year.

Even as I ponder that last sentence I struggle to think of what the fuck good I have actually done already this year...

So as the day wears on and I sleep the dopey sleep of those who use night nurse during the day I realise that todays accomplishments will be simple:

  • get showered
  • get dressed
  • be kind to self and others
  • go to house viewings
It is taking all that I have not to bite the head off of everyone who talks to me. So I find myself hoping the houses wont be suitable, so I don’t actually have to negotiate meaningfully with anyone.

As I said, its a day for making myself sick in the head when actually I am just stuck writhing around in my sick bed.