It's been a sombre week. Remembrance Sunday has become a personal memento mori, a time to recall November deaths including this week another friend who 'should have died hereafter'. But this time of year has become an anniversary of new beginnings, too, for me; celebrations and mourning overlapping like some strange mandorla. Researching that word I found a great website explaining the iconography of the symbol - the intersection of sacred circles - and the need for each opposing aspect to include its shadow side: "In this place, you are living on the threshold and this requires faith. All transformation takes place in liminal space."
So then I had to look up liminal, and found that in mythology, a liminal being combines two distinct states of simultaneous existence within one physical body - like the Green Man, Tiresias, and Pan. Duality apparently makes them good mentors, but dangerous. Like life, really.
And then I notice the mandorla-shape of this shot of Bristol marina I took on Sunday, from my son Sam's houseboat, and I like the picture even more.
On a lighter note, the Frome Writers Circle met again after a long summer sabbatical, hosted lavishly by Mike and with 80% attendance - just 2 of the group missing. We share fragments and stories with Alison, regularly successful with women's magazines, taking the role of arbiter of submissionability for that market. I can relax into participation without leading, and the range of voices is always enjoyable.
The week ends with a recording session at the Media Arts Centre, as Howard puts the final bits together for the 'Live & Lippy' DVD to show some of the stuff Hazel & I perform - great fun, and good practice too.
And here's gorjus Florrie May, visiting with Sarah, to give the week a final lift. I didn't intend to go all grannyish in these postings, but November needs all the uplift it can get.