rainy afternoon – busy

I love it when I can have time with my immediate surroundings. And when I think about it, I don’t need much. Social Media always leaves me feeling detached and frustrated, as apart from sourcing, networking, and staying close to distant mates and family, it can also start to make us less connected with who we really are.

I like to think that if I form a bond with a human, it could be similar to real life, and it’s not just a means to gain front house popularity. It’s not like when we go to heaven then get asked by the door keepers, ‘so, how many Twitter followers did you get? Or, how much money did you stack up?’ Karmically the universe sees everything anyway. So, what will be, simply is. We are only ever our true intention. And living with a free conscience is true wealth.

We all make mistakes but taking account for our own destiny and purpose is nobody else’s responsibility. Everyone has stuff going on, both good and bad. But some are much worse off than others. It is not so much luck, but who we have around us. Our Tribe. The people who really do help each other through the mess. Sometimes, just by being a listening ear or a hug. Sharing a fag or grabbing a bag of chips to scoff in the park.

With mental illness there is a thin line between being prepared and reaching out for a frame network. And the internet can become a fine line of confusion, since, as much as being a means to share great things, it can equally become a bow and arrow for keyboard warrior’s and those who know how to inflict a precise and calculated hate campaign. Often targeting a seemingly lone person, with the intention and purpose to make that target feel as vulnerable and detached as possible. Various means to this route could range from a desire for fame, money and an/or an ample amount of free time to plan such acts of spite. Either way such calculations derive from the perpetrators own sense of worth and often they turn to the web to push that onto those they envy most. Often a person who lives quite happily without the need of validation from strangers, all day, every day. A vicious cycle.

Either way, the older I get, the more it all jumps out at me. Saddened by the fact there are those that seek drama by means of (cowardly and indirect) disruption when it is so unnecessary. I myself have at times become very low, but after counselling or just speaking with a friend, it becomes apparent I am simply processing how life events have made me feel. Mentally I would describe myself as strong. I know this, as when I am under enormous pressure my adrenalin kicks in. Especially if someone I love is being hurt or bullied. Worse still, if someone I love is being a bully.

I have however, gone on to make real life friends as a result of the internet. And have sourced crafts and trades this way too. But then there are a small majority that offset the positive by creating a simultaneously ‘fake existence’ online. One of which takes residence over their own ‘real life’ world. The broad term ‘stalking’ covers much of above. And can overspill to the target’s friends and family also being scrutinized. And in some cases, books and scripts are created using the base line of the stalker’s often misguided assumptions. Financial wealth is awarded to the prowler. But guess what. The target remains richer in terms of balance and abundance.

That’s why, it is imperative to think above and beyond small minded cycles that serve no purpose to our origin and purpose. That said mental health is a huge factor towards using the internet to seek revenge and reap havoc. Especially during a psychotic outrage of another. This in turn is ‘so far’ completely unvetted by social media hierarchy. I know, I have been on the receiving end. The web being a cry for any means of ‘often the wrong of’ attention. Where the mentally meek will use any means of falsehood to be heard in a sea of sharks. Then, when they get well, everything is back to the real perspective.

But when this happens, a portal opens for the prowlers to become almost ecstatic at discovering such seemingly potential drama, that could not possibly happen in their own ‘white supremacist’ bubble of bullshit. The web makes tribes very vulnerable. Isn’t life so very wicked at times. We just have to know we can turn it off and find happiness all around us. In my case, alleyways, and my my kitchen, where I just cooked myself and Danielle (my housekeeper at the hotel) fajitas with spinach and peppers. Going to have another in a mo, with a skinny coffee fix. Then my time warp of a girl cave (bedroom), where I find absolute inner tranquility. A space that is full of worthlessly sentimental treasures, to include my crystal ball, rocks, shells, driftwood, tarot and pets. It’s indescribably connected to core.

I gave up regular drinking a few years ago. when I realised I was in a cycle of addiction to the internet and booze, due to ill health and grim living conditions. Wine being my ‘then’ poison and a means to numb my constant sense of no confidence. I went on an all out soul-searching, learning curve and during this time set up Pet Service Directories and Animal welfare groups. Through my unstoppable determination, I was subsequently bullied to fuck by an established ‘designer pet group’ and a couple of seemingly do good ‘social influencers,’ who use their money (millions) to tick heads. I hate snobbery.

This all went on for years. A systematic battle for which my faith would not be deterred. But on reflection the feedback and updates I still get to this day, regarding the progress I made for the animals, make it all worthwhile. And my tech skills vastly improved, due to the long haul out of physical service.

As we get older, we look back at life and wonder how we could have done things differently. But what we must remember, we cannot change the past. Only learn and grow away from it.

tiffany belle harper

We must remember there are those that confuse ‘love and admiration’ with ‘jealousy and resentment’. People who do not know how to feel empowered by any other, than themselves. The greatest people alive, are often ‘seemingly’ the most hated at a social glance. Maybe because they are truly loved within their own tribes in the real world. Where this in turn creates rivalry. Popularity indeed walks alleyways and does not need or wish to fill stadiums or win prizes. Wisdom has always been free for us all. Never forget that. Dew glistens brighter than diamonds and we can all afford nature.

Two nights a week I may enjoy a drink. It’s a 9% rose fusion made with strawberries and summer fruits. I thoroughly enjoy it on ice with a splash of tonic. I also have a takeaway and make wax melts, soap and bath fizz. I listen to jazz. I know it sounds boring, but I get off on it. I have a load of rescue pets too.

I was a young mum to two boys. I hardly had a social life. In fact, I cannot remember having one at all. I had an open house for all their mates. Three jobs. I would spend all my spare income on food for the kids. I drove them everywhere. I recall taking them to see Eminen in Milton Keynes. The town was rammed. There was absolutely nowhere to park up to wait for them. So, I rather stupidly drove all the way home, walked the dogs. Put a wash on then drove back. Due to it being so busy it took me 3 hours to get there. It was pouring with rain and my phone battery was dead. So, I got out my old banger of a car and ran around the arena circuit looking for the group I had to take home.

I was so worried, not only that I had lost my own kids, but also the two boys with them. I think they were about 12 and 14 at the time. I had given them strict instructions how to stay safe. And where to meet me. But the place we had arranged, which is where I had dropped them off, was now closed off to divert all traffic. The entire system was mayhem. Eventually finding the boys, I was by now almost wetting myself. I had an old washing up bowl in the boot so hid my best and went for a pee in there. Not one of them thanked me for my efforts to transport them to and from the concert. But we don’t do it for praise. It was their first gig. We do it to fill their lives with good memories. But as they turn to adults, they can all too often forget the things we did in favour of what we did not.

I love my boys, but it has not been easy. I am similar to both of them, but in different ways. I am proud. Our children, no matter what age can break our hearts, repeatedly. And we have to allow them to do that. I want James to move to Blackpool as I think he could nail this town. And I want Ashley to release his confidence with balance and harmony.

I still miss Dad. He was my best friend. I never really knew Mum. But I am trying. Our lives have been so different.

I want to retire before I die. But then work keeps me from over thinking. I sometimes miss blogging so much, now I am living in a goldfish bowl. Not everyone wants to be clapped by strangers. Life is much bigger than that. We are all on the same journey and it’s how we feel with our own space that counts most. Nothing to prove here. Am fine with me. I do good. Best I can.

Finally here is a video by a really good mate of mine, Seca One. Speaking quite openly about his history on the streets, together with his mind and how he turned it into being a successful artist. I hope it can help at least one person. Men tend to suffer in ways that are harder to detect. Often becoming hostile and aggresive. This makes me worry. Men need to be heard in a way that takes away a sense of delusion and guilt shifting.

Tiffany. X

From the Archives: I Am in Peace: the Ministry of Margaret Fell by Mary Sharratt – Guest Blog

Moderator’s note: This marvelous FAR site has been running for 10 years and has had more than 3,600 posts in that time. There are so many treasures that have been posted in this decade that they tend to get lost in the archives. We have created this column so that we can all revisit some of these gems. Today’s blogpost was originally posted March 6, 2019. It is paired with a new guest post abut Margaret Fell which will be posted tomorrow. You can visit the original post here to see the comments.

margaret fell

This linoprint of Margaret Fell can be orderedhere.

Pendle Hill will forever be associated to the Pendle Witches of 1612 who live on in the undying soul of the landscape and its folklore and who inspired my 2010 novel, Daughters of the Witching Hill. Pendle Hill also gave birth to the Quaker movement.


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