A Year in Review

So, it's been while.  So long in fact, I had wondered if I would even remember how to do this.  Good news though, it would seem I haven't slipped into premature senility just yet.

So, a fair bit has happened since we last met. I finally got out of that horrid workplace. So, I'm now in a totally new job, which has brought along with it more than a few challenges.  Not sure that I've found my niche, but for the moment, as I find my feet, I am grateful to be in a workplace that values me.

My body and I continue to be at odds. Some days we stand eye-to-eye 'till one of us cracks, but then other days I'm waving the white flag from the floor.  So, it's still a bit of a juggling act, and lot of mind-fuckery.

It's almost a year since I joined the world of online dating, and... well... the thing is - nothing has happened. Which makes this little fun fact, a little disconcerting...

Every. Day? In The World vs. StrangeBird, the score  is 1 to nil. Or is that 3 000 000 to 1. That's a lot of fucking zero's. The Supremes said "you can't hurry love", but Jesu - must I wait until I'm a pensioner?

Other news that has adversely affected me:

Joe Manganiello got engaged dammit. And...

Joseph Gordon-Levitt got married!  I would've taken a hyphenated name for you Joseph?! 

And I found out these two pieces of news in the same week.  It's been rough.

Still, we gotta keep moving. Until next time, "take a card, take a seat"...

river flows in you

I usually feel completely lost; utterly frozen in some ordinary life, scattered with just enough crap to make me sometimes sad.  In flickering moments, dotted throughout the threaded line of my existence, I get a strange feeling, like this place in time was made just for me. I get a glimpse of the plan, like the Angels accidentally dropped their notes, and between blinks I get to see it, and know that maybe I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

I'm learning all the time. And then, sometimes I regress, I hate where I am, and my situation.  Like when my sore foot is being a bitch, or a migraine comes to visit, and stays awhile. But, I'm reading a lot about peoples versions of life, and pain, and peace - and I understand we all have our shit. I want to become a better, happier person, in spite of my shit, maybe even because of it. Wouldn't that be ironic?

And to you, The Boy Who Stopped, I realised that while meeting you was refreshing and scary, sort of like the rush of sensations you get when you slide into a really cold pool, I wasn't ready for anything more.  I thought I might've been, but I wasn't.  So it's sort of ok that you stopped talking. Because I don't know really who I am, and I don't like myself very much - and that's in the pile labelled 'shit I need to figure out' and I'll be forever locked out of the next stage of life until that job is complete.

So I'm a work in progress, and I suspect you are too. I do hope our paths will cross again, when the time is right.

evolution is hard

This year the universe has been screaming at me to change; I'm trying you fucker is what I usually scream back in the dead of night. After I've read my latest self-help book, completed a guided meditation and over-thought my actions of the day (not necessarily in that order, that would definitely defeat the purpose of said activities).

Seriously, change is on the menu, as is being a better human.  But it's not easy work. Evolution is not easy, despite what the bible says. Dear God, please don't send me to hell for that comment.

At work, I am positively surrounded by self-obsessed assholes - and it takes every bit of my self control some days, not to outwardly mock their tone and narcissistic verbal diarrhoea.  You know I'm doing it in my head right, and sometimes it sort of just slips out...

Anyway, being around these kinds of people, aside from shitting me off, also reminds me about the kind of person I don't want to be.  Not in a self righteous kind of way, more just in the vein of I don't want to be a jerk.  The thing that erks me about these variety of humans, is the way they treat their underlings, because you know that totally speaks volumes about someones true character. Talk is cheap. You could be the richest, smartest, most beautiful person in all the land, but if you don't show respect to the people around you - I'm gonna think you're a turd.

So, this journey of bettering myself (for want of a better term) has led me to reading some interesting things. I came across this lovely quote the other night and it fitted perfectly with how I've been feeling.

"When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them." - Martin Buber

I realised this is what I'm searching for.  This is what I'm trying to reap, sow and cultivate in my own life and I love it.  I want to be a conductor of this type of energy - whether you believe it comes from God, or some other source, it doesn't matter.

This also provides direction for 'The Dating Experiment'.  To some guys I'm obviously a set of breasts and a hoo-ha, which is not ok.  So really, it's great when they out themselves that way inclined, because I can quickly avoid them, and move on.

Imagine my surprise, when over the weekend some really cool guy contacts me via this dating website.  I'm talking out of this world calibre of conversation. I don't even know where he lives, but it doesn't matter, because he wants to know about me, he wants to know what I think - he's incredibly interesting, and dare I say, too good to be true?  What scares me most of all, that I can write to him as me, carefully selecting and constructing the things I want to say, because I know he appreciates it.  I don't know where it will lead, but I hope we continue to write to one another, and maybe, at the very least I'll have a friend in him.  It's just so exciting to find one of 'my people'... it's serendipitous.

Being surrounded by assholes, makes the discovery of someone authentic even more sweeter.

shit happens to everybody?

Last week, on the day I found out I would have to stay confined to a 'moon-boot' for the next six weeks I was feeling more than a little sorry for myself.  Thinking about how I had arrived in this shitty spot almost one year ago, and how I was still trying to dig myself out, one handful of dirt at a time.  Wondering if I would ever see an end to pain, medical bills, heat packs, muscle rubs or hydrotherapy pools 7am on a Sunday. If I'd ever get asked the question "and how have you been this week?" without having to pay the person afterwards.

On this day I took a work call, from a guy wanting to change his appointment. He was a friendly guy, it was an easy request and I was happy and able to oblige.  And out of nowhere he expresses to me how happy he is that he is getting better.  That there was a period in the past where he thought he never would, how he wished, now looking back, that he had written down just how awful and hopeless he had felt, because now he could say "look, it turned out ok".

I didn't know this guy, he didn't know me - but he delivered a message that I needed to hear.

So, it's a journey. I suppose for now I console myself with the idea that not every ones journey is the same road, or the same distance. It just is what it is.

"Do not chase people. Be you and do your own thing and work hard. The right people who belong in your life will come to you, and stay." - Wu Tang Clan

the shallow end of the pool

I found out today that one of my cousins is trying out to be a competitor on "Beauty and the Geek" (as a beauty). I feel pretty confident that for as long as I live, I'll never do anything quite as ridiculous to top that.

I think this is good news for me.

And now, a little celebratory Ray....

gift horses

Today is Friday, which is great all on its own, except I have other things to be grateful for.

My niece started walking today - which means she has finally begun on her track to normal childhood milestones; which means one less thing for my anxiety ridden sister to worry about.  It means, of course - chaos - because she's going to be a little menace, but for my niece it means freedom, for her, a tiny triumph in a world chock-full-of stumbles and roadblocks.  I'm pleased that she has mounted this one successfully.

Yesterday was my sisters birthday, and I was able to spoil her with gifts - which I suspect made her feel, for just a fraction of that day that she was important - and for that small time, her mind was not fogged with worry and doubt.

I had a doctors appointment today.  I had to wait nearly an hour to see my smiley GP (who I suspect has more patients... and patience than time) and I got kind of what I expected - plus by utter strange coincidence I ended up sitting next to the aforementioned hot tradie.  I couldn't believe it - as if scripted in some midday rom-com movie, all the choices and moments collided right there.  Well, there was a little awkward, and no actual talking - but I did learn his name.. and that he breathes really heavy (an asthmatic perhaps?) But it was a surprise I didn't expect and a reminder that you just never know what's around the corner.. or in the GP waiting room.

I also received some mail today - some items I purchased for myself (so kind of like presents - if I forget who paid for them) but also other sparkly, surprising - beautiful things that would make your heart whistle (if it could whistle, healthily... hmm).

Also, the weather was a glorious 34 degrees, as opposed to the scorching 44 we had days earlier - so I was happy to walk in the sun without feeling my skin fry.

All of these things, these little unrelated things, crashed together and made for a day littered with great moments.  I guess all we can really hope for in life, is a series of great moments strung together in close succession.  Today I wear these moments like a string of pearls.  Tomorrow may hold any number of things, but just for now I'll be thankful for my moments, and I will not - I refuse to look that gift horse in the mouth.

And, as a complete side note, a celebration of this hot little biscuit Matt Corby...

a turn up for the books

Well, thank Christ that didn't happen! It's quite nice to be on the other side of an apocalyptic prediction.

Here we are one day away from Christmas, a time when glitter is finding its way to unusual places (and will continue to do so for many months to come); and pork crackling is being coveted at disturbing proportions.

I get a funny kind of feeling this time of year; a mental itch that maybe I haven't done enough - for myself, for others. As the year is skidding to a close, I remember all the things I should have done, the changes I should  have made - and I feel guilt, and fear.  

All I can hope for tomorrow is that it is spent mindfully - that while I open presents, my mind isn't wandering to the days ahead; that as I eat delightful Christmas foods, I won't be thinking about the many ways I need to change myself.  Just for tomorrow - may there be peace of mind.

And for the lovely nine, who support me from afar, a Merry Christmas to you. May you be right where your hearts wish to be, and may you and yours be blessed beyond measure.

prayers

Hearing about what happened in Newtown Connecticut has made me feel angry, confused, but mostly deeply, deeply sad. I don't know what kind of people perform such horrendous acts and I don't like living in a world where things like this just happen.  Who is accountable? God? It's moments like these I start to entertain the idea that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the world did implode.  We've done a pretty good job of fucking up the environment, and each other. If we all just evaporated into the particles of dust we came from - we'd be free to float in the galaxy - free from these kinds of nightmares.

My heart skips a beat when I think about the children in this tragedy - which leads me to think about the children in my life.  How I love them so incredibly much and how destroyed I'd be if anything ever happened to them.  Then I remember I can't protect the people I love from this life, and the fear is momentarily crippling.

I can't do anything but try to be a good person, and pray.  I pray for the families of the ones lost, for the people confronted by this horror, for those whose lives have been cut short and for humankind. 

the things I didn't know

the amazing source

When I look at this picture I feel less alone. Maybe because it looks something like hope.

I had been doing fine in life. I had been getting along as best I could. Then I went and did something stupid like go wandering in the facebook woods alone, unprepared for what I would stumble upon.  I stalked John and found something surprising and confusing.

His profile had disappeared for a while - it's not like I did a weekly check or anything, but last time I did, he wasn't there.  Last night however - he was back.  He has a new relationship - which he actually declared on his page - she is a perfectly ordinary looking woman - with a baby.  There were photos of him and her (with the little him) plastered all over, and all I could think was that he looked happy - really, honestly happy.  It seems like finally he has the instant family he said he always wanted. I'm not sure why it shook me so much - but I was left reeling.  One moment I'm finishing a late night cup of tea, and the next I'm discovering things that required much more emotional intelligence than I was able to muster on a Sunday evening.  What the hell happened while I was drinking my cup of tea?

I'm not sure why I've reacted this way.  Perhaps I'm jealous, or disappointed that it wasn't me who put that joyful twinkle back in his eye. Or maybe it's just that I wish I had the pictures to prove I'd moved forward. Truthfully - she looks like the kind of girl I would get along with, be friends with even. Further truths be known, I'm almost relieved to find he's no longer with the other one - the bad apple.

Anyway, I guess these are just the kind of flips and dives that life takes, even when you think it's moving predictably straight. It's a reminder, not to be complacent.

gastro girl

I think the gastro that struck me down may have just been a blessing in disguise.  Of course, it was horrible - but it also forced me to slow down, and the three days away from work have been an absolute gift (wrapped in toilet paper and dry biscuits crumbs, but a gift nonetheless). I've slept so well, my muscular pain has been at ease, and tonight, after being able to eat dinner, and drink a cup of tea later, with actual milk in it, was beyond fantastic.

It has been a rough ride - I have been irrational, angry, upset, depressed.  Convinced the world hated me, when maybe really all it was trying to do was tell me to slow the fuck down. Thinking I was being punished - like maybe I'd committed some selfish, questionable acts and this was me reaping what I sowed.  I haven't been coping well lately and the people around me have been hit by the stray fire, but I figure at least in acknowledging my misgivings, it makes me a better person than most.

I'm not trying to be sad.
I'm not trying to be witty or charming, or right - I'm just trying to be me - an OK version of me.

I miss writing, I miss having silly thoughts and being taken away by them.  I miss having banter with that inexperienced writer voice in my head, because sometimes she's good fun.

The other day, eating lunch on the steps of the veranda, I dropped a morsel of cheese. I figured the ants would think it's Christmas - but then I wondered: do ants 'do' dairy? I have to admit that after thinking about it, they kinda seem to me like the kind of creature that might be lactose intolerant.

I want to be bullshit intolerant - my own, but especially others.

And I don't want to be made to feel bad, just for every now and then putting my hand up and asking hey, well what about me?

The past three days have reminded me that the world isn't going to fall apart if I sub out - it will continue to turn.  Stepping back has provided a lovely echo of perspective.  What a shame I can't take a picture from up here.

ding dong the witch is... gone

These last couple of months at work have been quite difficult for me.  My 'boss' returned to her former position as supervisor/maker/tyrant of my work-world, and I have struggled with this.  We had a falling out of sorts, maybe 2 years ago - and I've never been able to go back.  I haven't been able to forget what happened, or how it made me feel.

The difficulty with this of course, is that when you can't stand your boss - every decision they make feels like a personal attack, every thing they do, every thing they don't do - grates on the metal link of the weakening chain that is supposed to hold everything together.

I don't hide my frustration very well either, which makes things awkward.  I suppose I'm like a simmering pot of water, once I reach that level - boiling point, it is an ugly shitting mess and impossible to go back.  When I say that I haven't been able to forget, what I really mean is that I will not let myself forget.  There's that bullshit song "forgiven, not forgotten" - I can't forgive, I can't really forget. Maybe I'm a bad person; certainly I must be a poor Catholic. I know God must be shaking his head at me in disgust sometimes.

I know I turn into a bad person, my heart turns ugly for a time, and I hate myself for being this way.  I acknowledge that my expectations of people, of life, are far higher than they have any right to be.  I know I can be self righteous and judgemental, my version of "right" is always better than anyone elses. I can say she does this to me, but really, I let her get to me.  Like those wise ones say, we can't control the world, but we can control how we react to it. Well, me and the world have a volatile relationship - guess who's going to win.... (hint: it's probably not going to be me) Does this change the battle?... Not. One. Iota.

Today my boss served her final day as my boss, which should excite me - should make me feel proud for surviving it all - but really, I look down at my dirtied hands and rub tired eyes, and I know I am not a winner here. Our paths clashed furiously, and my road will be permanently kinked because of it.

She won't be gone completely, she will still have close links to my place of work.  I may not have to see her everyday, but her name lingers on the lips of those around me; her shadow threatens to cast in cold corners.  Worst of all, from the outside, she is perfectly charming, her humour is disarming, and by the look of her, you cannot tell she's rotting underneath.  The washed out Italian blood that runs through my veins quickens in fury at the thought of 'her', and it may be responsible for these dramatic descriptions. 

At times I have been utterly graceless and conniving, and of this I am not proud. But, she is gone - and for that I am thankful.

I'll try to grasp the lesson with both hands.

moving in the generally right direction

Jack Nicholson says "take your medicine!"

It's no secret I have been a little down lately. I'm not sure if it's been the slight reduction in meds, or maybe just the anxieties that the change brought about. I've been feeling "off" - fuzzy and floaty, as if I've been walking on marshmallow ground that at any time could collapse and suffocate me. Thankfully, I don't feel like this so much anymore.

It's been quite a tough week.  Things at work are moving into a whole other gear.We are heading into a crisis period due to a lack of staff.  I have endured periods like this previously, and I know what's in store, which I think in some ways makes it harder. Something else quite sudden happened this week too. Dear C - my equally complex work mate, with the power to make me cry, announced that she must leave. She told me on Tuesday and was gone by midday on Wednesday. C left because she has been unwell, and hasn't been able to overcome the medical things that are going on.  It's nothing life threatening, and I know that given time, she will be fine - but it was a sucker punch to the heart to see her go. Even though age and profession divided us, I felt like my secrets were safe in her hands, and I will miss my friend, my ally, C.

You can never really know how long someone is going to be in your life.  I suppose sometimes people stop in briefly while making their way to somewhere else.  I am grateful, that after such a short period of time, I had been able to share a glimpse of myself with C. 600km now separate us, and realistically I don't know if I'll ever see her again.  Why is it, I wonder, that the people you want to stay are always the ones that leave too soon?

I saw this clip for the first time the other day.  Unrelated to Beth Ditto and her creepy, harsh makeup, I actually find the video clip quite offensive to watch - I find it to be an eye sore, which is such a shame because I actually like the song, and its message. Maybe we could watch with our eyes closed?

conversations with god

Late Sunday night, while everyone else was sleeping, I decided it might be time to break the silence between me and 'the big guy'.  I had a chat with God, about nothing really, about my preoccupied mind and some of the things that float in the space between logical thoughts. Who else are you going to talk to at 11pm at night? Who else is going to be there to listen?

I don't know how I feel anymore, about God and his posse of Angels or spirits, or whatever.  In the past, if I needed something desperately, if I was worried or scared, I would beg, pray and cry - often simultaneously; I suppose it was a comforting thought to say it out loud, and hope it would be heard.  But then, I felt like a bad person - the dodgy character who only ever comes to you when you need something. And then I also wondered about the point of it all?  And then I guess I figured if there is anyone 'out there', then they had plenty more important work to carry out. So, I stopped.

These days I try to find comfort in the words of wise and/or crazy and interesting souls. In clever moments, I try to roll out my bad thoughts like dough - break them down and mould them into shapes that don't scare me.  Sometimes I try to journal it out, of sorts - but it always tends to turn into a 'wahhh - session' without any answers.  Just me, reading over the entry thinking "yep, that's some fucked up shit right there.... aaaaannnd still feeling the pain" .  And then, for the longest time, this blog replaced the journal - I could say the things I couldn't say to my family, or friends - I could be outrageously silly or selfish or ridiculous, and people might hear it - but they wouldn't have to listen, and they would never have to know it was me, so I could never be judged.  The blog space has opened me up, but I think maybe I've been getting lazy too. I hope I haven't been putting genuine shit out into the world, but then, this doubting voice in my head tells me maybe I am.

So when I spoke with God that night, I apologised for the lack of conversation. I thanked him for the sound of the rain as it fell upon the roof above my head; and I thanked him too, for the small blessings I had overlooked while other things were happening. This blog is a blessing, and if I treat it right, it will continue to help me sort the things within my head.  I think the confusion comes when I try to entertain.  I'm not an entertainer - for all the non exciting, non glamorous things that happen (or rather, don't) in my life, I think of myself as more of a deep space reporter - this is the shit I'm seein' and this is what it looks like to me. Sometimes it comes in the form of a cute celebrity, a lovely song, a quote or picture.  This has to be ok, because this blog is an extension - no - bullshit - it's not actually, it is the real me.

No good ever comes from this bird over-thinking anything, so I'm going to try and go with the breeze, where ever it may push me. It's all about the journey, right?

The Writers Club

I arrived early, before the library had even opened. I don't like to be late. I recall that desk quote from weeks ago, which declared that punctuality is "the virtue of the bored" - and it made me angry all over again. I don't have to be bored to want to be punctual, to be respectful of other peoples time, maybe I just don't like rushing around in a fluster! I'm not really so angry about what some asshole inferred about my punctuality, I'm nervous. I don't know who will be there or what I'll have to do. I don't know why I am here.

The lady running the group today, is a grandmotherly figure - 60-something with grey choppy hair and a splash of bright lipstick - she's wearing a warm woollen jumper and one of those odd hybrid neck scarves that makes me wonder, is it for warmth or fashion? She has that crackly but joyful voice of wisdom, she muddles and fusses to herself, but I suspect her disorganisation is not a choice, but purely a way she gets everything in her life done. I deduce she is busy, and important, and probably a writer of fiction in her spare time, between painting landscapes and pottery classes. She's got spunk and I like it.

I survey the group. I missed the first meeting, so I don't know anyones name or 'story'. Some intellectuals, professionals, mums, creative's, wannabes and maybe one or two actuals. There's one other younger woman seated two spaces away - during her choppy reading later on reveals she's dyslexic, well there's always one ('special case' not dyslexic; sometimes I want to be the special one).

The lady across from me has a friendly smile and a name I can't pronounce, but she is warm and kind. She talks with a fellow South African seated next to her - I hear this lady talk about the novel she's almost finished writing, I recall seeing her name in the newspaper bylines - this one means business.

I recognise some local personalities, art-scene identity's and a crazy old woman who uses her walking stick like a bat - I remember her from work, she used to dance around the parallel bars as if they were a merry-go-round. Whenever she opens her mouth, sharp shards of truth come flying out - why oh why did I give her a hard copy of my assignment - she'd likely tear it to shreds in disgust, chew it whole or will it to spontaneously combust with her cold stare. Yikes. She got something like spunk and I don't like it.

I struggle during the in-session writing exercises, three minutes for the first, ten minutes for the next. Most of the attendees seem to slip straight into their ideas, I fumble, tripping over my own hands as if my fingers were not my own.  After the exercises, most people read their work out.  I can't - not yet. It's not up to scratch, I tell myself I need more practise.

I'm lazy I thought to myself - these people work at their craft, write and re-write. Not me - I just expect it to gush out of me like a broken pipe, all greatness and truth. I don't think this is how it really works. Tick tock...clearly not.

During the break, I linger at the table - become involved (by mere locality) in a conversation with the South African ladies. We talk about some of the stories that have come through, what might be involved with the 'critque'.  The ladies turn to my work - they are being pleasant - "read it aloud" they tell me "it helps if you read it aloud, because then you can hear what's wrong". What's so wrong? The kind one tells me she really liked this one particular line, all of two lines, fifteen words. "You should always include something positive in your critique" the other tells me. Right.

Exactly how many creative pursuits can one person have before they appear desperate? I tell myself I just want to be great at one thing, not good at many things.  Truth be known, I want to be great at all things, most, if not all of the time.

While procrastinating in the final ten minute challenge, I mull over the experience.  I realise the group could be good for me, if I let it - if I don't take things so personally and accept that I'm not the worlds greatest anything. Take the lessons where they are given, and hope they pay off. I pull a clean page from beneath and scribble quickly so no-one sees, "oh StrangeBird, quit plucking at your own feathers - you must get yourself some thicker skin"....

SB

stocktake

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung...
May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong...
May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

- Bob Dylan

I think it's very easy to become complacent - as each day blends into the next.  We think about things, only in terms of how they effect us - we assume things are going to be the same - until they aren't anymore.  It's difficult to find safe ground, when you're trying to be mindful of the moment, but also figuring out where to step next.  No one is to know the road map, or the challenges we might meet along the way.  I think sometimes it pays to slow down at the 'give way' signs and just appreciate the people and the things we have in our lives, right now - as if they were a magnificent parade - the theatre of your life. Our shops and warehouses regularly count stock - as if cereal boxes and bottles of soft drink are precious.  Maybe it would serve us well to do a regular stock take of ourselves - to be grateful for what remains on our shelves, remember what has passed through our doors and discover the gems we have collected in our lost and found boxes.

I don't pretend to be saintly - I get pissy and angry at little things, I forget my blessings and get caught up in things that don't matter - but I do hope to devote a little more time to the things that should be celebrated.

Two of the scariest things you'll ever learn about life:
1) There are no guarantees.
2) It's not fair.

SB

there is a kingdom

I found a real friend. I can't say how, because in truth, I do not know. I suspect it was one of those curiously normal days, when, in closet-to-Narnia style, I stumbled upon her world and adored what I found. Gods angels may well have been holding a neon sign directing me to this woman, a sign I could not see at the time.

On this, International Women's Day, I celebrate the arrival of this woman into my world - I look back and wonder where it all began? I shake my head at the utter ridiculousness, that two peoples life-lines could clash together so fantastically; separated by state lines and time zones - some might laugh at the suggestion that I found a best friend?

I speak so dramatically about this lovely person, perhaps because in my adulthood, I had resigned myself to the reality that my time for finding and making real friends was over.  For so long, not letting anyone in far enough to see the mess beneath - I figured I'd forgotten how to connect with people; maybe it was all too hard.

Sometimes life delivers beautiful and inspired surprises and on days like these, awe is the only appropriate response.

Today, I celebrate this person, because she is an inspiring, strong, courageous woman who encourages me to celebrate myself - in this day and age, who does that?

There is a kingdom, to which we belong, where we are princesses - bound not by blood - but by things far more magical - spirit, heart and other things unseen. The doll and the bird.

SB xx