I begin writing this a little before 5am in the knowledge that at some point today one of you reading it will be the 2000th hit on my blog in fourteen weeks and two days.
I have shared my thoughts with 99 friends that I have on facebook, many have passed on and shared my words, my rambling & meandering has been read in thirty-three countries, that’s been inspiring for me. I use the blog as a way of expressing my feelings, thoughts, ideas, experiences old and new. It began in pain and sadness, an attempt to free myself from a failed relationship, it has moved far from that starting point and come to mean much more to me. It has helped me to journey to places I could never of imagined and learn about myself, the world and other people, it has opened doors and brought new friendships, affection, it has helped drive me to new experiences and opened my world from a dark introspection and self-imposed silence to a raw new openness where all is possible and potential and exciting.
I am inspired to write, to hear stories from others and recount them, to share conversations and experiences, for all I have written there is as much unsaid, confidences shared, secrets whispered and moments too fragile or tender or revealing to share the light. Maybe one day these to may be fuel for more creative writing, but for now I carry them with warmth.
I wanted to write something that explained in some way how I feel, I hope it doesn’t sound as though I have been visited by the Ghost of Eric Morecambe and created one of his ” This is a poem what I wrote” pieces but here goes:
When the sun shines on me and I feel its warmth I think of days less complicated,
When life was un-cluttered and feelings worn on sleeves, emotions unfettered & the child in me ran free.
Time marched and I wore my experiences as armour to keep out injury, but armour rusts and tarnishes, it slowed me down and obscured my vision, each step a struggle.
Now I seek freedom, my metal jacket is discarded and I have open eyes, open hands and an open heart to touch the world, senses alive.
If lack of armour means injury then scratches and wounds heal, scars fade with time, and if they remain they are a memory of a life well lived, a rite of passage, a beauty most perfect when flawed.
I seek the sun and to look once more with the eyes of the child, to wonder and to ask why,
to laugh and to cry, delicious, vulnerable, exhilarating, open to all elements,
I am alive and life is for living……………………….
6 thoughts on “The Ghost of Eric Morecambe”
Just want to say how much I enjoy reading your blog, I look forward to seeing them in my inbox, its so brave of you to share in such an honest way.
As a 50 year old female I can identify with many of the issues, it’s so well written and I often find myself mulling over it in between readings. I am also a londoner who loves Portobello and it feels like catching up on the thoughts of an old friend.
Keep up the good work!
Thank-you so much I really appreciate hearing from you, people are reading but I don’t get too much feedback.
I told your sister (i work at BMS) how much I enjoyed reading your blog (recommended to me originally by Meghan) and she told me that no one feeds back so encouraged me to do so, glad you appreciate it, but I do so enjoy it.
Wow Martin you are doing so well, it puts me to shame. Keep it all up(that sounds wierd) :-$ xc
Thanks Carolyn, I am keeping it up as best as I can