Kindled Meme

– exploring the purpose of connection


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Moving Marvel mountains – inking intent

Lets move some mountains

Seething, heaving, making a break – “He’s not happy”

What a great image! [Grrr!]

Lots of folks in dark places. Lots of folk shredding their threads.

But not all folk have a comic to tell their story.

If you wrote your own comic what would you be doing?

20 pages dedicated to the interesting thoughts in your head… 10 pages contemplating  incongruence in your professional identity… A tense but ineffectual chapter about living in fear off having a conversation with someone who really matters to you. Or an unconvincing ending where you struggle to ink the words “I deserved better”

It would be great to write a comic of our lives that sold big – on all the newsstands, that gets turned into an app, that gets traded amongst geeks in cellophane wrappers at conventions for the next 100 years…

Someone told me that “your life today is the sum result of all the decisions you have made in your life up to this point…”

But your comic – your future – that can be different.

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Parenting – “When Robots get me”

Its 4.30am and I roll over. Fresh space and a stretch. The daylight is slipping under the blinds.

But as I turn – Whoa! – I can see our boy is in bed with us. Trouble.

Hey, whats up?

“Nightmare…. Wont stop…… I always dream of Hogwarts….. Not this.”

What is it?

“Robot. He’s getting me!”

Where!

“In the garden. A transformer. So big. He’s got an axe.”

What is he doing?

“He’s chasing me. Hes got an axe. Hes really big”

Mmmm… Shall we put roller skates on him? He’ll get stuck in the mud and on the gravel.

(My boy thinks)

If he’s got muddy feet he cant come in the house. Mum wont let him.

(He thinks some more)

Why is he chasing you anyway?

“He’s big. He’s a black transformer. He turns into a car and can go fast”

Why dont we say he is a “Chicken transformer” – he can only turn into a chicken. A funny chicken. That lays easter eggs

(My boy smiles)

Why dont we ask him why he is grumpy? Would he like a hot chocolate? One with marshmallows on top? Robots love marshmallows and they love hot chocolate. Maybe he can come and chat in the kitchen. If he takes his muddly robot shoes off…

Hot chocolate is a favourite in our house – my boys eyes are wide open and the frown and fear has gone.

But its 4.30am and I need to sleep. I tell him to roll over and form a cuddle. My face is against his back. My thumb is in one of his hands and his other hand is hooked back over my head and he holds onto my ear.

His shoulder blade against my face is sharp – not soft like Fran’s. Do shoulder blade wear smoother with time. Like molars wearing down with too much chewing. If we use our arms a lot through life will the motion smooth us down? (Elephants have 4 sets of molars in their life – when the final set wear out its time to give up status and lie down with some dignity.)

My thumb feels the shape of his hand wrapped around it. Strong hands – the five year old is built for climbing, wresting and hunting. This boy will be strong when he grows up. His torso is skinny and lean – he is like one of those rubber bones that dogs chew – no fat, no soft fleshiness, just firm. But he’s warm and I love him very much.

Some memories you can take pictures of – but these memories I never want to loose.

And I become aware that these moments are moments I take for granted. Because life with kids is hectic and distracting but they wont be like this forever.

The photos on my iPhone are great keepsafes. But warmth, connection and love like this doesn’t get stored on a phone too well.

And so Im writing it down becasue I dont want to forget.


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Today I want seafood

I live in land-locked Oxfordshire – edge of the Cotswolds – its beautiful –  facinating buildings, every village with its own shape and history and life is good.

But today I want to be by the sea. I want seafood. Be in Capetown eating Kingklip. In Sydney eating squid. In Bangkok eating god know what. Not just the taste but the sounds, the chaos the colours bouncing between the sea and the sky and the freshness in the air. Today is Sunday – there are people breakfasting in Mission Bay, Auckland drinking fajoa juice looking across the water at Rangitoto knowing it’s the only place to be – but taking it all for granted (I just spoke to my mother-in-law in Waiheke and – yes – it was a beautiful morning in NZ).

Hey, I even want to have Oysters. I hate oysters. Ive never tried oysters. I fear them. My lizard brain holds me back everytime that they are on offer – and today I want to take on that fear and be there – by the sea – stretching myself – and then discovering the best kind of seafood ever.

Its daft being in fear of oysters – but at least realising its a barrier and its irrational is the first step to fixing it.

I want to go for a paddle but the water is going to be *so cold* – hell, get in there!