“I’m late, I’m late (for a very important date)” sang the White Rabbit, and so am I, publishing this week’s writing our way whole.

Did you think I’d forgotten you? What does it feel like in your body, this being forgotten? or at least, this thinking you’ve been forgotten?

When in fact I was remembering our rendez-vous, all along. As it says at the end of one of my favourite songs, by Lucinda Drayton /Bliss: ‘When the world runs out of time, I’ll be there‘.

I digress (again) – it’s becoming a habit. Coming back, past the poppy memorials and the cenotaphs that this year saw few crowds …

Think of all the ways in which – living through the pandemic – we have changed our relationship with assembly, and with communication in general, especially “online”.

Since March 2020 even I, Dinosaur of the Online World, have laughed, cried, sung, chanted, danced, meditated, recited poetry, exercised, given lessons, shared retreats, led a retreat, received therapy, bared my soul, and more … all by Zoom on my phone (my lap-top is too old to co-operate).

Which has meant downloading the appropriate App …

Here is a heart-felt plea on behalf of the great un-Apped from an older friend:

It’s a smart life now after Lockdown

~

Disconnected?

Not connected?

Get the app!

You can’t pay here.

Get the app!

No smart phone?

Get the app!

I am old, I don’t know,

I am not connected.

~

The doctor, the bank,

The building society.

Library, pub,

Restaurants, shops.

Lockdown code, 

please sign in.

What, no phone.

No app, no sale.

~

So no smart phone, 

Disconnected by age?

Disconnected by cussedness?

Get the app!

Can’t park your car?

Can’t buy a drink?

Buy a meal?

On my own, lonely.

Get the app.

~

Isolated by COVID?

Can’t go anywhere.

Get on the bus?

Go to the club. 

See friends?

Get the app? 

Disconnected millions,

Get the app.

~

So no smart phone, 

no connection, isolating us 

from everything, everyone.

Others take this new world,

their digital life for granted.

Can’t beat them then must

we really join with them?

Change our lives for ever?

No need for apps.

Working in the garden.

Walking, watching, 

listening and seeing.

Thinking, writing, drawing 

recording thoughts anything.

Doing something new.

Now your time is your own isn’t it?

~

Copyright John Tuton Jackson 31 August 2020

That poem helps me to remember my own personal credo to embrace and encourage inclusivity (including wildflowers in my gardens, for the past 42 years). What does it say to you?

Let us know!

Brain Dump on remembering and forgetting

In our usual way, I invite us to continue each phrase once, twice or thrice, letting the writing flow forth in a stream of memoryoff we go!

Today I remember …

Today I can hardly forget …

Today I want to remember …

Today I’d rather not remember

Today I’ve forgotten …

I hope that I’ll always remember …

And repeat as required

Remembering also, having just experienced so many months of deaths from Covid-19, as well as the sombre “not in my name” and the “lest we forget” memories of earlier years, here are some images from where I live, and where the community remembers, movingly. And where the village memorial clock, whose pleasant chimes can be heard on the wind all around the village, even by ears as deaf as mine.

Golden ThreadWork

As ever, select an idea or phrase from earlier (or later) in the session or from my friend’s poem, or use one of the following phrases. Write it in your ThoughtBook.

Without efforting, continue the phrase onwards, in a free flow of words or images, onto the waiting page.

I shall always want to remember that …

Carried on the breeze, the chimes of memory …

If App stands for Application, then …

“Do this, in remembrance of me …”

Let’s forget about …

Do you remember that time when …

I zoom on the magic carpet …

Saltire pebble on Brora beach Copyright Kathy Labrum McVittie November 2020

Appreciation practice

for you to write your own, before mine

Today I am grateful for:

~

~

~

Today I’m grateful for:

~ inspiring and stimulating Zoom calls recently, ‘writing our way whole’ one-to-one with eager companions

~ successful dental treatment last week – without anaesthetic

~ safety in the fog driving down to Inverness and safety in the dark coming back home

Further resources

Community-made yarn poppies, on railiings between the A9 road and River Brora

And this to remember the nineteenth century poet Thomas Hood:

I Remember, I Remember
I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday, –
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now ’tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
by Thomas Hood (1799-1845)
https://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/