Monday 1st August – Lammas

The ninth century text, Old English Martyrology, refers to August 1st as the day of hlæfsenunga, which translates to ‘blessing of bread’.

At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. 

You don’t need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. 

No record of it needs to be kept and you don’t need someone to share it with or tell it to. 

When that happens – that letting go – you let go because you can.” 

Toni Morrison Tar Baby, 1981

You let Go because you can? 

Like lying floating in the summer sea

Opening the front body 

And releasing, relaxing back Into trust 

Into the arms of life

Into now

Being here now,

August 1st


My heart is heavy

pumping slowly 

but still certainly pumping

My breath?……

Where is my breath?

I am able to feel the Warm sun 

and the slightest of cool breezes wafting in.

One lone bird is chirping

But the birds are in moult, lying low

And it gets no response.

The cat checks in,

There is a rustle from upstairs 

As a teenager stirs from sleep.

I feel my desire to stay in hiding.

My breath lengthens and something releases in my shoulder.

The Almanac for August alludes to all manner of socialising and festivities 

But there is nothing I would like less.

I crave solitude,

I feel frazzled.

My solar plexus a writhing nest of serpentine nerves

I am just back from holiday 

Only to still find myself in a place of overwhelm 

And needing to escape all demands on me

Even the cat’s miaow triggers a clench in my stomach

Those festival explorers extolling the virtues of kayaking months through uncharted territory 

Still evidently Struggled to navigate parenthood and care giving

We really don’t have to go so far for adventure 

or to be hero’s and heroines.

My mum messages.

The letter from the hospital 

Has arrived before the appointment I am going to with her

It reports a small but residual amount of cancer.

Simultaneously, a copy of the letter pings through on the family group chat.

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