Monthly Archives: July 2015

The open-hearted jam man

if you’ve walked on the coastal path out of Shanklin on the Isle of Wight towards Ventnor, you’ve probably come across a table of jams and an honesty box.  This is the work of the Luccombe jam man.  He’s been at it for years.

This morning my partner asked me, ‘is it the same honesty box as when he started?’ ‘Does he take it in at night?’ ‘Is he watching from behind the curtains with binoculars?’ ‘How long would this work in a city?’

I’ve been thinking about open heartedness in my practice. How scary this is – so many opportunities to be hurt or drained.  How often does the jam go unpaid for? 

But it lifts my heart to think that either he continues regardless, or that people are good and honest – either works.  I wonder if a postcard to the Luccombe jam man, Luccombe, IoW would find him?  I wonder, in this city, what is my jam equivalent?

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Letting go of the past, sock by sock

I come across a pair of my father’s socks.  How long have I had these?  He’s been gone a decade and I think I’ve had them nearer 20 years. They’re darned (does anyone even do that any more?), presumably by my mother. Maybe I’ve worn them, but not in a long long time.

Still it’s hard to add them to my charity shop rag bag.  I didn’t have the best relationship with my father.  They are socks of no particular significance.  I hadn’t even realised I had them.  But still hard to let go.

Here I am again dwelling slightly in the past again. Leaning back in all my yoga postures; failing to seize the day.

They’re definitely leaving, once I’ve taken this photo, once I’ve written this post, maybe after some tea….

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