Hi all, it’s Farzana, your host, with a huge welcome to Thursday Connectors.

Our theme is ‘Difference’ and I can already feel the difference in the climate since our last Connectors. Here in the UK, as the weather is getting cooler and the hues and the shades of nature are turning red, brown and grey, I’m also feeling the effects of this change.

I went to my GP and had my annual flu jab in preparation to the wintry days and chilly nights this week. And as the nurse was going to pump my bicep with a ‘pneumonia’ jab, I was like, “Hey hang on a minute, what’s this all about?” I never needed one of these before. Why do I need a pneumonia vaccine?

So, it happens that it’s a new thing the NHS is offering to vulnerable patients. My Achalasia diagnosis qualifies me. But I wasn’t ready to have it until I could at least read up on it first. Having done so, I’m still not convinced, but I do have another appointment booked, nonetheless.

Since Covid, and the whole hoo-ha about the vaccinations and that, I don’t know what to really think about all these jabs and vaccines. I had all the Covid vaccinations, but I also know many who felt differently and didn’t have any at all who have lived to tell the tale. However, I’m not anti-vaccinations at all. Yet, at this age, I’ve started to question things more than I once did. This difference is most likely because of a change in me and a change in my life experiences. As I’m getting older, perhaps I’m beginning to question more and beginning to take action, as opposed to the me of the past who went with the flow, trusting authorities and institutions on most occasions

So, there’s me rambling on about my life’s goings-on again, when I have a page full of exciting Connectors to share with you, exploring the broad theme of difference.

First up, this poem made me both laugh and sigh. As in many aspects of life, sometimes obsessing about something can often weigh us down and affect us in unusual ways.

Hi, Jo. Let’s connect:

Dreaming Of Pigeon Pie

I think I quite like pigeons, But when they’re far away
Chirping in the treetops
While in the woods they stay
Where they just coo and fluff their feathers, 

I know pigeons can be useful
They carried messages and news
Sent in the heat of battle
While over hostile guns they flew.
They flew with streamlined feathers

But today I have a problem
and I think of pigeon pie
as I look upwards from my yard
and a whole row of them espy.
Cooing and fluffing feathers

As they settle for the night
On high gutters sills and pipes
They bill and coo and fluff their tails
And then they say goodnight.
Still cooing and fluffing feathers

I know this all sounds very sweet
And why should I be cross
Because there is white guano everywhere
And they don’t care a toss.
They just poo and fluff their feathers

First of all, I scraped it up
And put it on my plants
I’d heard from many gardeners
How growth is much enhanced

But it’s a smelly nasty job
My interest soon did wane
And now I was more intent
On seeing off these pains.
Who still cooed and fluffed their feathers

My first idea was bird spikes
it cost a hundred pounds
for someone to climb a ladder tall
And fix them all around.
But they still cooed quite unconcerned

They either sat behind the spikes,
Or perched on gutter high
And even on a sloping pipe
I watched them with a sigh
As they cooed and pooed and fluffed their feathers

I had the hosepipe in my hand
And I adjusted it to squirt
But all that happened that time round
I got rained on with liquid dirt.
They enjoyed their shower as they fluffed their feathers

Their beauty sleep it did disturb
They were surprised and flapped their wings
but then they all went back to sleep
Did they even softly sing?
As they cooed and fluffed their feathers.

Soon I had a cunning plan
I would get a long, light pole
and scrape them off their cheeky perch
during night patrol.

And then I thought a lovely kite
Would be a good idea
With a bird of prey, so big and black
That would fill them all with fear.

But who would fix it up for me
up two storeys high
Perhaps that plan was not so good
I decided with a sigh
They just cooed and fluffed their feathers
They weren’t worried –ever.

© Jo Renton, 2021

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Next, we connect with Juneha, who reflects on some of the differences she’s been through and how they’ve affected her as a person.

 

Hi, Juneha. Let’s connect:

Differences

Significant moments teach us lessons that help us grow.

My dad’s death came at a crucial time in my life. I had just had the youngest of my four children and nearing the end of my maternity leave, there were decisions to be made. The options, although clear, sounded weird when I said them out loud: go back to teaching and nurture other people’s kids, or take a break and a closer look at my own.

After years of running after children and childcare, late nights, early mornings, and relentless working weekends, something needed to change, and that ‘thing’ was me.

It’s funny saying that, because I don’t think it actually changed me as much as it reinforced who I always was. I was never about running after the pounds and chasing the big dreams, I was always about being comfortable and having enough that the wheels of life glide along a little smoother. But, so consumed in the ways of the world, I’d lost my way a little.

It was the wake-up call I needed to get my priorities in order: choose between all the things that mattered over the things that could be put on the proverbial back burner.

After all, as far as I was concerned, life shouldn’t be about living to work as much as working to live. The realisation was always there but it hit me hard at that point – money may be able to buy you a lot of those dreams you’ve slept through, but always prioritising it above all else could compromise your peace, as it had mine. Juggling a heavy workload and a demanding home life, I realised I was not living. I was just giving.

It was a moment of self-reflection and appreciation.

I counted my blessings and focused more on life’s plus points rather than its minuses. I was lucky enough to own my own house – I’d worked hard to pay for it! I was lucky enough to have a husband who could work and manage the bills while I took the time out to concentrate on my young and growing family. I was lucky enough to still have time to change the things in my life that were not working. And that’s exactly what I did. Since making the decision to take a long career break all those years ago, I haven’t looked back.

Now I work when I want to. Most of the jobs I do are temporary. Agencies are good like that. It might not be for everyone, but it gives me the one thing I was craving for amongst the chaos: control. My timetable is dictated by no one other than me. I choose when to work, to rest and certainly when to play. The word ‘permanent’ is misleading anyway. And I suppose that’s the biggest lesson I learnt through my grief: nothing is permanent, least of all the life we fill with things and people we are destined to leave behind.

© Juneha Chowdhury, 2024

Connect with Juneha on Facebook: @JunehaChowdhury

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Next, we connect with Rachel, whose piece tells us about how, despite the differences spiralling in and out of our minds, we simply persevere and carry on.

Hi, Rachel. Let’s connect:

Be Mindful They Say…

Another day at home trapped with the most abusive of partners, her own brain. Heart pounding, she works through the toolbox of self-help techniques.

Distraction. Sink filled with foamy water, she tackles the piles of dishes from days of neglect. Next, mindfulness.

‘Try hard to experience the moment; immerse yourself in it,’ her inner voice commands.

Closing her eyes, she tries hard to focus on the sensation of the water and the feel of the dishes beneath the surface. A louder voice inside says, ‘Sod it!’ She does not want to live this moment, or be immersed in this chore. Eyes open, she gazes ahead through the gap in the net curtain. Is her brain the enemy? She sees a kaleidoscope of light. The rainbow continues to dance; squinting, she sees a flash of white. Pulling at the window dressing, her mouth hangs limp. The magnificent creature stops; a horse with muscular limbs, shimmering in the light of the rainbow. Its head slowly, carefully turns towards the house and a halo of light emanates from the singular horn protruding from its head. Eyelashes highlight a stare: meaningful, meant to convey a message, not of this world. A flicker inside her very core spreads a warmth. Creativity and imagination live on.

Desperately, she feels the burn and twitch of eyes ready to blink. Reluctantly and involuntarily, they close.

Her focus returns to the grey lace limply framing the window. She notices a dead fly, laying skeletal, on the sill. Behind her, the clock ticks monotonously; a chipped, unwashed mug is lying  in her hand. The moment is timeless.

Deep inside her is still the warm seed of hope, creativity and light.

© Rachel Derrington, 2024

Connect with Rachel on Facebook: @rachelderringtoncounselling and via her website: www.rachelderrington.com

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Finally, we connect with Nathaniel, who sent in this poem which I felt fitted our theme perfectly.

Hi, Nathaniel. Let’s connect:

From The Diary Of Wasted Talent

Quiet as I keep it, and as talented as I am,
I’ve never felt that I was good enough
precisely why I grind so hard

Talent is only as good as talent can produce
Passion, worth ethic and timing
change the game

I was always chasing you
I have no desire to be the best
I want the respect of the “best”

I feel like I’m running out of time
and as badly as I wish I could help the world,
right now it’s difficult to help myself

It’s a damn shame
that when she wears that dress,
I just can’t help myself at all

My guilty pleasure is my attraction to darkness
but I love God more and always will
so, I have no love or fear of any demon

It was a fun three years
but I lost my sense of direction
three years is a long time to be distracted

Fight or flight could get me killed
especially, if I don’t have the sense
to be scared enough to run

Rest in peace Jay,
Part of me feels like I owe it to you,
to achieve greatness before we are reacquainted on the other side

© Nathaniel Terrell, 2024

Connect with Nathaniel on Instagram: @natej.story

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What fantastic Connectors this month! Next month, with our theme extended, I’ll have more writing reflecting difference.

Until then, take care and see you soon.

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