Recently I’ve been helping a friend come to terms with many events in her life the main one being the loss of her mum. We did this through a shot story I wrote changing it as she worked through the feelings and thoughts she had along the way. She had been her mother’s carer through the short illness that took her mother away bit by bit. Traumatic events that have life changing consequences that are either good or bad that need to be worked with to try to make sense of.
All through this process she had said how my words have helped, making peace in her heart. I gave her strength of mind she tells me, that the way I write puts things in a perspective that she had never thought of before. In reality it is the way she reads with that beautiful mind of hers and thinking that gives my writing its sparkle.
Through life we can become craggy and gnarled as we grow older but understanding and enlightenment can be a shining light on our minds true beauty, if we take the time to look through the differing angles. On her fortieth birthday I gave her a rock, inside of which had a beautiful array of amethyst crystals. Minds, thoughts, time, writing and reading for me all represent the beauty in that rock.
I never really had many books when I was growing up and on a trip to Shakespeare’s home I picked up a little green book that shone a perspective on my life that sheds shards of light on my thinking, it was called ‘A Shakespeare Treasury’ where sonnets 30 (Memory) and 60 (Time) sit side by side. The contents of this book were selected by Levi Fox (if you look him up on Wikipedia you will see what an extraordinary man he was) how clever of him, it is in my opinion a very well thought out approach to Shakespears work and life in general.
Somewhere in the reading of these two sonnets I mixed them up and come up with
As waves hasten to the pebbled shore
Old woes new wail my dear time’s waste.
No wonder they put me in the bottom set for everything at school, what a confuddled brain I have. However for me these words that have never been placed together held tight my belief that you should acknowledge old woes and wail a little for things that could have been but remember to make time in your memory to hold onto the now looking at from the perspective that makes you smile.
Her are the two sonnets
Her are the two sonnets
Memory
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Time
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
So as we come to Christmas Eve when the festivities are about to kick off, or have kicked off in the wrong direction, hang onto Shakespeare’s sentiments-that is to say hold onto those moments that count, release those that cause pain then “dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end”
With seasonal love
