(Prompt: BUS- Use the word or have the word be within another word.)

Very, very busy.

SO busy I am busted. Physically, emotionally, mentally.

Today – mostly emotionally. Dropped our daughter off at university, two hours away from home. Not too bad really… not like its on another planet right?
May as well be. She will be studying to get her masters degree in astrophysics.
It is possible she may read this post so I am still going to keep myself under control…because you see – she worries about me. She really does not need to, I will keep myself – busy. I do so wish she could stay…

She worries about her siblings, I promise you, daughter of mine, I will keep them busy too! They have very big footsteps to follow in – you did not half set the bar incredibly high. Though, you know as well as I do, that because they are so much like you, they will do precisely as they please and follow their own path without regard for the pressure of teachers, friends, or their mother and father. They will be true to themselves, and the example you set teaches them the best thing they can ever own – how to think for themselves. How to know where they want to go, and how to go out and get it, through tremendous obstacles.

Let’s face it – your life has not been the easiest. This last year has thrown more curve-balls then imaginable. See – it is not really a big deal for a young adult to attain results in their education and go off to Uni, but when you consider the changes, not only in the last year but in the last seven…you are made of steal and I salute you and wish I was now, half the woman you are already at nineteen.

I wrote you a poem when you were born, before the busy set in – and in it I asked for you to have graciousness, kindness, joy, humility, resilience, protection and mostly a spark and enthusiasm for life. Perhaps those are all things I wished for myself, but I am glad I asked this of the universe for you, though not sure I needed to because all really is as it should be and turns as it must (another great lesson you already understand at your sweet age). I am glad for it because, you are all those things and more. Unbelievable just how patient you are and still display character traits that inspire your physics teacher to ponder,how to imagine life without you. I echo their sentiments.

Contagious – you may not see or believe that you affect people, but you surely do.

Your granddad who passed on a year ago two days ago would surely be proud and shed a few tears of such mixed emotions alongside us.

Do you recall, in between all the busy we have found ourselves in,  how you wondered how to fly? How to spread your wings. How you thought you would never be able to? How you thought you were so different from other girls your age? Do you recall, how butterflies – as I wrote you before – take their time to emerge from the cocoon? How if they push out to soon they damage their wings? How you wondered what your wings would look like? How you could see the other girls wings shining in the light and you yearned to grow up as they had…how you could not see YOUR wings because our wings are behind us and only in what we mirror to others do we ever see our truest colours on our wings…

Take a look behind you now as you catch the reflection of them – in the smiles, and the tears of joy in the hot pot of emotion you give to those who have had the joy of knowing and seeing your beauty, a long time before anyone else did – especially you. Stay busy at all you love and so enjoy your flying dance through life now. Stay humble, fly proud. Stay strong, rest easy in your weakness. Stay the path, fly high.  Your wings are ready  – let them catch the sun and shine like the stars that light up the night sky you adore so much.And I will ‘stay’ busy with all those things too – I promise)

‘But mostly – dear Lord, keep her safe in your palm…’ (quote from ‘Prayer for a Child’)

And that is me before another smiling tear falls today.

Thanks for reading.




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Linda G Hill – Stream Of Consciousness


Play on, Live on.

Played guitar for first time in roughly three weeks.

All good.

Well internally for me… not sure about the surrounding ears, but they are fairly tolerant. Even the birds.🙂

It is actually surprising, even after so long.. yes, that is long to go without ‘practicing’…after two hours playing, I am finding there is an improvement from the previous time… which is nice.

Though, when first starting up again my fingers get twisted! After a while it settles, and my excitement at stealing a moment urges me to focus and try the harder stuff while I have chance. 

It is always nice when you click with how something works… even just how a sound comes together.

I do thank my son. Hearing him play, watching him, even if out the corner of my eye, has taught me vast amounts.

I will never reach, or catch up to his level, my understanding of sound is limited, but… when I can find a tune I like and play it roughly, singing along, it teases me into rest. That kind of rest that settles my soul.

Perhaps I should istead take those moments to practice my art, or imrove my writing, start that book you know, or… work, work on something that could go somewhere. I do… but it is not enough to always do things that have actually got and end goal forming… we also need to do that which is seemingly… a waste of time… because.. it is in the futileness of simple or complex pleasure that we know is not our main priorety to sharpen or improve upon, or take to the highest level we feel needed to be able to feel we can say we have conquered it and are succesful in our chosen paths… that we find reason. Counter intuitive? Or, a needed escape from the achievement/success mantality… 

When I can play my own sounds that form a melody in my head, or heart, or even soul, that.. is pretty priceless to experience.

See, I always say, all I wanted when I was a kid was to be able to paint, but really, poetry started because, all I really wanted through growing up surrounded with a great variety of music, was to play an instrument and write songs. I kinda gave up on that when my sister took the singing stage, and daddy was not able to buy me a guitar. Dad grew up with music, his mum sang opera, he played piano into his teens, and regretted rebelling fom lessons as they would not allow him to play jazz.  He educated us about music styles and genres, and took pride in his knowledge of a vast amount of musicians of all styles. He seldom stopped listening to music.  In fact, it is still odd not hearing music drifting downstairs from his room. (Nearly a year since his death??)

When I turned eighteen, he did afford me that guitar. By then I had transferred this passion, simplified it, into what I do today… write poems.

Mum, gave me writing. She adored my poems. She gave me art… she could not draw, but, she went without to buy me crayons and paint and funny animal stencils that inspired me to create.

Instruments were out of reach… they did what they could.

Art, has just always been a given, it has been less challenging,(been doing it so long…) I get bored with the same medium, same sizes, flat surfaces etc..(sculpture thrills me! As does giant canvases!)

But music… music is mysterious, music stretches my rhythm, music is contemplative, focused, reqires concentration, meditation..simply because it is one thing I desire strongly to be able to do because I just like it… a lot, but, it is not a natural inborn talent.

It requires passion and dedication to gain any result worthy of paying any attention to. It is not part of my identity…

I can say, I am an artist, I am a self taught freestyle poet/writer ( and yes that required hours of practice, but still, it comes with much ease, and has had a LOT more time allowed for it), but, I cannot say, I, am a musician… there in, it becomes something that is purely for the sense of pleasure and satisfaction it gives in its ‘nothingness and pointlessness’ of simply existing in the moment. 

No purpose to strive to, no goal to attain, no score to achieve, no ambition… just being – a human being, in that small space in time.

I am grateful for that.


I Am Still In The Battle

Fairly sure it is quite obvious to most that I am not certain what direction to go with my blog. I don’t think that really matters, simply because I never really did!

Idiot Writing started a good three years back as a place to put poetry.
I was going to post once a week.

Rapidly that changed to every day. Then my art got jealous, so she joined in.
Rambles, got the better of me, and they found themselves slipping in.

It became a place to meet people, read what others where thinking, their opinions and views, their wonderful creativity – etc. I miss that side of blogging terribly much…

Talking to folks. The banter, the laughs, the insight, the discussions. Things change, we don’t always change along with it..that can take time, and sometimes we shouldn’t. Sometimes we just have to ride things out, often on our own. There is a reasons monks go off into the mountains.

I guess the season I am in – is my writing is becoming again a place of solace for me.
A place to ask myself questions, and find answers. Not QUITE there again yet, but, when poems begin to come again…I know I am on my way back to finding the flint to light the fire with once more.

I always have written. I have not always done it on a public platform..but I figure, some of that stuff I don’t WANT here, and some, if it has helped me in some way or I feel it may be something others can relate to.. then – it will find its way here.

I think pretty much anything we write , others will relate, but it also depends on just HOW honest we want to be with the world. Most of you who have read my rambling for a while, will know I get pretty honest, but… I seldom get personal. Why? Because whatever I portray on here, reflects not only on myself but people who have not chosen to share their world – with the world. I can share my thoughts, but I cannot, share terribly much of all the specifics. I think that is sensible really. Some are happy to… it makes for that ‘personal experience’ – humans love to see into others lives. To follow where other people go and what becomes of them.

I prefer at least – a little bit of cryptic play.😀

Where did that all go? Cannot recall what I was even going to say! It was not this!

Plus – its bullshit, maybe it is what I want to be, not what I am…that is often the case…
That is also one of the reasons why I don’t write in such a way very often anymore…
(and why I so much feel I NEED to begin to write more once again)

I am, or rather, have become, unsure of myself and my views and beliefs. Terribly very fluid season I find myself in.  I feel like I contradict myself, and do not even believe myself sometimes.
I think the only thing I really DO know and still hold to be true is:

All our lives really are a poetry, and I am STILL –

Battling the hypocrite within.

I shall continue here… writing. It is not finished.
I am still in this battle, perhaps I am simply attending to my wounds for a time…

See – even MORE reason to write… for words shall shape our souls, heal our wounds, and bring our direction to rise into its course once more. (Well so do bloody actions!😉 )