Happy Sunday from Us

And Pseudo Echo


Funky Town, a little town of funky dance steps and crazy dance moves. Oh, no, that is just our lounge!

Just a little Sunday happiness.

You may dance as you like, where you like, for as long as you like!

You rock.

You're Welcome!!

What You Are Like; Sometimes When I See You

Sometimes I see you, but sometimes I don't remember to.

When I look at you both, and each, Romeo and Persia, I realise that sometimes I don't actually see you but rather see what you are doing and sometimes more what you are doing that isn't right!

And I know that that is plain wrong but sometimes as a parent I become wrapped up in what is required, needs to be/get done, and sometimes, even, how society's expectations are/n't being met (but not so much that last one because God himself only knows how little I am concerned with what other people think but rather how I myself believe things should be).

I blame time. A lot. But really it is my own issue with trying to manage what I get tangled in thinking is important. Usually it isn't, really.

Some days I struggle to get dinner on the table. But usually that is because we are busy, doing, being, playing, me directing and intervening.

Occasionally it is because I have got caught up in a stupid/pointless/time-wasting task (whatever task means)!

But there is one thing that I am grateful for today. And that is the ability to recognise that sometimes I don't see you and in so recognising that I try to readjust myself and really look at you.

Sometimes I see you when you are sleeping. You are different. Unencumbered by life and my rules of engagement. I watch you sleeping often. Most nights. I see resemblances. I see peace. I see dreams and nightmares. But mostly, I see you. Not what you are doing, right or wrong (that is so subjective a sentence right there). I see the beautiful child I brought into this world. My heart is permanently wrapped around you both. But in these moments, time stands still and I am able to just feel love as it flows through every part of me, it rests deeply within my soul.

Sometimes I see you and it feels like my soul is only composed by you. I know that isn't true but what I do know is that it is you that silently, as a by-product of who you are, encourages me pick up and move on day after day. Because everything I do has meaning with you. Because everything I did before has less meaning than 'this moment' with you.

I am also grateful that most of the time I remember how important it is to be true to oneself and never be angry with you.

Sometimes I see you in music. I wonder if you would like that song. I imagine how you would dance to the music. You both have this innate sense of movement with music. And then I see you, really see you. Dancing. Romeo with all your Hip Hop moves which are innate and which you love so much. You are drawn to the music that requires those moves and you make the moves so fluidly. The other day you spun on your head! It's not my dance style. But sometimes when I see you doing it, it makes it mine too. And Persia, the way you move your hips and shine when you dance is so natural and captivating. Even though you usually laugh while you do it. When I see you twirl like a ballerina, you make me believe. Believe in dreams and innate senses and everything that makes you believe who you are and why.

Sometimes I see you through the lens. Sometimes I see you in focus and sometimes I see you in retrospect. Captured for posterity has more meaning than just that. It means, to me, that sometimes, when I haven't had the sense to see you in that moment, I get to see you in that moment in a different way. In a way that is less time-oriented and more focused than my lens will ever be.

Sometimes I see you and this makes me so incredibly grateful and happy.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to see you. And today I have seen you again, just differently:

It was all...

...about...

...a tiny feather.
Lost in the wind.
Like I get lost in you,
Pershi baby.

When I see you...

...you are...

...thinking.
Always thinking.
I want to know what.
But I don't want to interrupt you.
I almost never ask you.
When I do,
you say nothing.
Like you don't remember.

Sometimes I just don't see clearly.

And sometimes I am blessed enough to see you.

Sometimes I know what I would see if my view of you wasn't off-centre.

And then there you are fully centred and everything is there for me to see.

I see you, in your world of ideas and ideals.

I see you caught up in the moment. Oblivious to everything else.

You are this unstoppable force of pure atomic energy.

I love to follow you, silently, in your investigation of life and nature.

What...

...are you...

...thinking?
What I wouldn't give for a moment in your head.
But then  I remember that I have
never really wanted to intrude that far.
But sometimes I just want to see you more.

Sheer joy changes your whole face.

So does it change when you catch someone watching your happiness.

Sometimes you learn by following your sister. And vice versa.

Sometimes you play together.
A tag team of sorts.
You against the world (and me). 

Sometimes I see you clearly. Romeo.

And sometimes it is you I am seeing clearly. Persia.

Mostly I see you both.
Differently.
The same.

Sometimes you play in individual unison.
Affected by and affecting each other.
Alone.
Together.
I like to see you,
when you have no idea that I do.
Sometimes that is the more true you.
Separate from my rules and judgement.
My opinion absent. And rightly so.

Sometimes I see you. And sometimes I admit my view is not so clear.

Always, I believe in you.

Forever, I love you.

You are two of those things in life that you didn't know were missing until you got them. Didn't know it was possible to breathe without. 

Prologue Part 1

It has been more than 5 years since I experienced a very tortuous hell times three. I have really needed to talk about it, well not actually talk about it to someone because I find (aside from my counsellor a couple years back) no-one really understands, appears to understand, can/could understand, or would/should ever understand, the unbelievable hellish nightmare I was locked in. But I have to get it out.

I remember the after-effect was such that where a Doctor would normally ask a patient to fill in a health assessment form occasionally (perhaps once a year and for some never), I was asked to fill them out weekly. Not only was that the request, but I was also told in no uncertain terms that I would experience a crash of emotional, physical, and mental, magnitude. Be prepared, very prepared, and be careful. But don't worry, really, because we are here, we are aware, and we are prepared!

Feck. How do you prepare for what someone, a professional with experience in these matters, expects but which you apparently have no control over and no idea of exactly what this apparent event is going to be, look, feel, or be (did I say be already?) like.

Before I can even begin to get close to discussing what I need to, in order to reach the here and now (which is fairly good all things considered), I think I need to place my life in perspective. Because this will allow me to try to make sense of my life now, then, and in between. To make sense of me. I suppose it will also allow you to somehow begin to understand me and my life and the how's and why's that surround that.

So, here goes...

Twenty years ago last August, I was a drifting teenager. Looking for life without actually knowing what life was. Looking for direction without really having any clue as to what that meant. I have wonderful parents and a loving family. But one thing I never learned was life. How to be, do, have, act, behave, want, move, HOW TO LIVE A GOOD AND SUCCESSFUL LIFE. No blame, that's just the way it was. Although I did learn how to spend money (but not banking or saving - = not good money sense at all and I still grapple with bouts of thrift and expenditure galore), and I sort of understood the concept of get married, have children, grow old, die.

What more could there be?

So here I was, drifting around the big city, staying out of trouble (by the grace of God no doubt!) but just wandering. I grew up on a farm, and while not far from suburbs and city, it was still city lights that ultimately meant different and interesting and thus I gravitated towards this. My best friend and I used to just wander around town. Investigating, always moving, looking, learning, just being. On one particular day, as I walked through yet another building with my best friend (a very popular and cool shopping and living locale), these loud men's voices could be heard. (Okay we were actually in an area that we probably shouldn't have been but we were nosey sixteen year old girls....seriously...tell us we can't/shouldn't and we simply have to, like we have to breath! My friend freaked out a little and then we were face-to-face with dark, serious, men. Caught by these foreign men in a place we were not supposed to be. We mumbled an excuse and skedaddled only to bump into them around the corner (since we hadn't actually left the building we were now standing there silent).
The tall man asked if we'd like to join them driving somewhere. My friend declined instantly. I, on the other hand was not only not afraid (where perhaps I should have been) but was equally intrigued.
We declined all the same. They then asked us to come back later to watch a dvd in their apartment. I agreed. My friend was still freaking out. None-the-less we met them later. In their apartment were women's high heels and a really curly thick wire. My friend was now FREAKING OUT. I was still fine!

Two Iranian men. Handsome (to me), friendly, and funny. AND, they had an apartment in the centre of the city! I married the tall one, one and a half months later. I had just turned 17. I should clarify that it wasn't the apartment that enticed me, it was FATE that pulled me in. Drowned then and there! True love.

We grew together. He is 8 years older than me (but not wiser (okay now I'm just being mean lol)). We have spent almost 20 years in love and fighting. Magic.

During this time, I was an early childhood educator, had enough of enduring that, became a University student and stayed there. Travelled, worked, loved, hated, studied, travelled...It was all about books and soaking up an education. I wish to be paid as a perpetual student be my name!

From 1999 to 2003, I studied my butt off. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology, then grdauated an Honours degree separately, and then squashed a massive 65,000-word thesis Master's degree into 8 months. Then I made a huge move. I moved to Oxford to study Arhaeological Science at the University of Oxford...

Prologue Part 2, will be here shortly. I just need to muster the energy to dredge up old yet painfully-fresh feelings and memories of hell and heaven all wrapped up in one event.