People should smile more

Posted by Evelyn

I had some lovely good news today about the safe arrival of a very precious baby girl and this song came to my mind. Maybe I can’t change the world…..but today I smiled, people should smile more.

People should smile more
Im not saying there’s nothing to cry for but you’ve got
Everything laid out for you
Just close your eyes, take a deep breath and start another war

Keep buying, keep moving, this city, is sitting,
next to me, well laid out, it’s gonna come, one thing is certain

I can’t change the world
Cos tryin’ to make a difference makes it worse
It’s just an observation I can’t ignore
That people should smile more

People should smile more
But the lights are so bright that they blind you, just one more
Meaningless scientific breakthrough
The more we know, the less we care whilst damaged on the way

Keep moving, keep buying, this city, is sitting
Next to me, well laid out, it’s gonna come, one thing is certain

I can’t change the world
Cos tryin’ to make a difference makes it worse
It’s just an observation I can’t ignore
That people should smile more

Doo doo ba doo da doo dee dee do x4

I can’t change the world
Cos tryin’ to make a difference makes it worse
It’s just an observation I can’t ignore
That people should smile more

I can’t change the world
Cos tryin’ to make a difference makes it worse
It’s just an observation I can’t ignore
That people should smile more

I hated my brother. When he died, all I felt was happiness…

Liz Hodgkinson writing in The Daily Mail 31 July 2012

The news came as a shock, yes, but it didn’t provoke tears, or even any sense of grief. I’d just heard from my niece that my brother Richard had died of a heart attack, aged 62, following an apparently minor operation. And all I felt was a surge of happiness and relief.

That day, five years ago, a long, dark shadow that had blighted my existence was lifted. You see, I hated my brother and he hated me to the point of pathology. So much so that we hadn’t even seen or spoken to each other for 20 years.

I imagine this sentiment will jar with many because it goes against everything we are  supposed to feel for our siblings. After all, it is meant to be the strongest and longest bond we will experience in life.

To admit such animosity is to break one of our strongest social taboos — but the feeling is far from rare, with psychologists estimating that in as many as a third of all families there is bitter hatred and rivalry between siblings.

Writer Margaret Drabble’s long estrangement from her novelist sister, Booker Prize-winner A.S  Byatt, is a case in point.

Their feud, which started at birth, is, according to Drabble, completely unresolvable, and has provoked much interest.

Ever since Cain slew Abel, stories and myths abound of siblings turning against each other.

But what does it actually feel like to hate a sibling? Well, it’s something that is always there, lying dissonant and dormant in the background. You dread the slightest contact, whether by letter, email or phone call.

In my case, before my brother stopped speaking to me altogether, he would preface any communication by saying: ‘You’re supposed to be so clever.’

Harmless at first glance, perhaps, but words designed to fill me with rage. And they achieved their goal, unerringly.

When there is hatred at this level, you can’t even pretend that person doesn’t exist, as it burns a deep and lasting hole in your psyche.

The animosity between my brother and me stems from childhood. Apparently my mother had only wanted one child, so when she became pregnant with my brother while she was still breastfeeding me, she was distraught.

He was born 18 months after me, following a very difficult birth which nearly killed our mother. Right from the start, I was the firm favourite of both parents and the question: ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’ was often asked.

Such favouritism, I believe, is the crux of it. American psychologist Jeanne Safer’s latest book, Cain’s Legacy, explores this very phenomenon.

Writing from her own experience of being estranged from her brother since birth, she believes it is favouritism that causes such bitter sibling rivalry. ‘When this happens, it sets you up for a lifetime of strife,’ she says.

‘The bond can never quite be severed, yet the bitter hatred gets ever worse. Because it happens before you can speak, it goes far deeper than anybody ever realises and can never be healed.’

Read the whole article here

Muriel’s ashes

It was the Jubilee weekend and a year since we had all gathered around Muriel’s hospital bed as she told the Doctors that she wanted no more treatment, no interventions, no resuscitation. She told us she had had a wonderful life, she was ready to go, that she wanted to be cremated and she wanted her ashes to be scattered in an open, high place.  This is the place we chose.

Those of  her children and grandchildren and great grandchildren who were able to be there, each took a handful of her ashes and threw them to the wind. Little children keen to ‘have a turn’, adults laughing and crying all at the same time.

I took pictures for those who couldn’t be there – and when we looked at them afterwards we were amazed to see this one – looking like a proud lion above the clouds! Reminding us of her strength and courage in her living and in her dying. A lady who, in her youth had played bridge with the Shah of Persia, raised seven children and been the proudest Nana and Little Nana to so many more.

Into the freedom of wind and sunshine
We let you go
Into the dance of the stars and the planets
We let you go
Into the wind’s breath and the hands of the star maker
We let you go
We love you, we miss you, we want you to be happy
Go safely, go dancing, go running home.

Posted by Evelyn

Song for a baby

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-xmLD85M8o

Evelyn found this – played in memory of a baby

The morning cold and raining,
dark before the dawn could come
How long in twilight waiting
longing for the rising sun
ohoh ohoh Oh ooh

You came like crashing thunder
breaking through these walls of stone
You came with wide eyed wonder
into all this great unknown
ohoh ohoh Ohoooh Oohh

Hush now don’t you be afraid
I promise you I’ll always stay
I’ll never be that far away
I’m right here with you

[Chorus]
You’re so amazing you shine like the stars
You’re so amazing the beauty you are
You came blazing right into my heart
You’re so amazing you are…
You are

You came from heaven shining
Breath of God still flows from fresh on you
The beating heart inside me
Crumbled at this one so new
ohoh ohoh Oooh ooohhh

No matter where or how far you wander
For a thousand years or longer
I will always be there for you
Right here with you

[Chorus]

I hope your tears are few and fast
I hope your dreams come true at last
I hope you find love that goes on and on and on and on and on
I hope you wish on every star
I hope you never fall too far
I hope this world can see how wonderful you are

[Chorus]

You’re so amazing you shine like the stars
You’re so amazing the beauty you are
You came blazing right into my heart
You’re so amazing you are…
You are

Post mortem photography

Posted by Vale

We had quite a debate recently when we published some recent post mortem photgraphs.

They were respectful, intriguing and, some of them, quite lovely in their own way. But they made us – and some of you – uneasy. Did the photographer have permission to publish? Was it right to expose the dead – so vulnerable in their invulnerability – to public gaze in this way?

We weren’t always so squeamish. Back in the days when photography was still a new art, the idea of photographing the dead was seized on as something that, like embalming, preserved ‘the body for the gaze of the observer’. The quotation is from an interesting essay by an American, Don Meinwald, about Death and Photography in 19th Century America.

The photographs were for private consumption rather than public sharing and Meinwald links them to the Ars Moriendi tradition of funeral portraits. Photographs of children were especially treasured:

These photographs served less as a reminder of mortality than as a keepsake to remember the deceased. This was especially common with infants and young children; Victorian era childhood mortality rates were extremely high, and a post-mortem photograph might be the only image of the child the family ever had. The later invention of the carte de visite, which allowed multiple prints to be made from a single negative, meant that copies of the image could be mailed to relatives.

The quotation comes from a portal site over on Squidoo with lots of links. Fascinating. Macarbre. Unbearably poignant.