Anne Morrow Lindbergh, from 'Gift from the Sea'.

'Distraction is, always has been, and probably always will be, inherent in a woman's life.

For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the central mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel.  The pattern of our lives is essentially circular.  We must be open to all points of the compass; husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive likes a spider's web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes.  How difficult for us, then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives.

...With a new awareness, both painful and humorous, I begin to understand why the saints were rarely married women.  I am convinced it has nothing inherently to do, as I once supposed, with chastity or children.  It has to do primarily with distractions.  The bearing, rearing, feeding and educating of children; the running of a house with its thousand details; the human relationships with their myriad pulls - woman's normal occupations in general run counter to creative life, or contemplative life, or saintly life. 

The problem is not merely on of 'Woman and Career', 'Woman and the Home', 'Woman and Independence'.  It is more basically: how to remain whole in the midst of the distractions of life; how to remain balanced, no matter what centrifugal forces tend to pull one off center; how to remain strong, no matter what shocks come in at the periphery and tend to crack the hub of the wheel.'

Anne Morrow Lindbergh, extract from, Gift from the Sea.

Adjusting ...

Alice came to a fork in the road. “Which road do I take?” she asked. “Where do you want to go” responded the cat. “I don’t know” Alice answered. “Then,” said the cat, “It doesn’t matter.

Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

Source: Oh Fairies

It's fascinating (for me) to watch myself struggle with having made space and silence to write ...

I didn't realise quite how addicted I had become to distraction.  'Addicted' for want of a better word.  Facebook is perfect as a distraction.  It's full of some of my favourite people and, often, it's the only place I easily and instantly reach them.  It's playtime all day, if I allow it be.  Or forget that it shouldn't be ... on a slow day when I am quite lost and lacking in self-discipline.

And my FB wall was full of interesting folk.  It wasn't the tedious stuff you read about in the 'worst of FB' stories.  They were posting politically and intellectually interesting stuff ... as well as day-to-day life, links to good music, and their stories too.

These days of allowing this silence to fall around me haven't been simple but slowly I'm growing  used to the peace of it all.  Instead of multiple story-lines telling of other worlds running there in my head, I only have my stories ... mostly.

The loveliest thing is that I am receiving long emails from friends who have either already left facebook or who want to stay in touch.  Long emails are bliss and I find myself setting aside time to reply, instead of them being lost in the avalanche of action that my life used to be.  And links to good music are often included.  I would hate to lose those introductions to music others love.

Yesterday I was consumed by a desire to further prepare myself for the long winter ahead.  Bookshelves were moved, the sofa went upstairs to Miss 9's room, replaced by a exquisite yellow armchair I found secondhand and today this office space/bedroom is so much more beautiful.  When the sun angles in through the window behind me now, it is no longer absorbed by the other deep-red bookshelf, instead it reflects off the wall painted a warm terrocotta (I think) and lights the middle of the room with a warm glow.

Light, and that colour range from pale yellow through into a deep gold, they are things that I love.  My desk area is clearer than ever, and the small round red patterned rug that we found is perfect under my chair.

The paddling-people delighted me, in the image below, but so did the house.  If I had a Pinterest board, I'm almost sure that it would be filled with images of houses and rooms made for dreaming and writing in...