… into the unknown …

The photo below is of my talented and complicated dad as an eight-year-old boy in carnival outfit during 1926. He did

Dad – in 1926

not quite make it to 100 … He died last Friday, 99 years old. I’m glad he went peacefully and without pain.

His parting released me of the anxious waiting for the day when I must sort his things, though I had a taste of this ordeal two years ago when I organised his care.

Even though I was an only child, my dad never supported me financially, not even my education, or the education of his grandson. There’s an endless list of what I could not do right for him.

And I still I loved him, and wished for his approval. What he leaves behind will not ease my situation, but most likely incur expenses I can ill afford. Age is often extended these days, and children tend to experience more and more that a parent’s last resources are eaten up by their care needs.

Even when communication within relationships is loving and open, the other will always remain partly veiled, and a mystery. My dad survived hardships after the First World War, the Spanish Flue, and the Second World War, which traumatised him. He could not quite adjust to the intellectual freedom of my generation. I admired his thirst for knowledge, his fine-mechanic and inventive skills, his achievements as a photographer and painter, and his up-and-go cruising around the world with his second partner after my mum died 30 over years ago.

Earthrise, Dec 1968

Most importantly, my father and my mother  gave me the invaluable adventure of life – an embodied consciousness in this amazing time, when the outer and inner universe so rapidly expanded. For this gift I’m deeply grateful.

Still, I wish I had not allowed my dad to diminish my self-value quite to the extend I did, which came home to me once more in this dream.

Strangely, the week before last I started my very own Patreon site, hoping to spark a little support for my creative output.

I held back with the launch – feeling scared. I’m an introvert after all. But here it is, for my readers to explore.

Go and click on the link, have a look what I made of this platform so far, and bring up the question …

For now, I’ll hang on to my constructive mantra, something I heartily wish for all my readers:

A little more freedom, a little more happiness, and a little more beauty.


Filed under Blog

17 responses to “… into the unknown …

  1. I wish peace for you and your father and much joy for you in the future.x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. having now lost both of mine, i know how that feels… and- worse yet – the going through the ‘stuff’, the endless dust of accumulation…
    my most heartfelt condolences, Ashen… there IS light at the end of the tunnel

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you ☼
      Stuff, goodness, we do accumulate rather more than the tribes of old. I try to clear clutter, especially paper, not easy. And who knows what happens to our litter in the virtual spaces.
      I’m craning my neck towards spaciousness and light.


  3. Ashen, my heart so goes out to you, as I SO can relate. My parents were never proud of me, but they were more helpful than your dad was to you. There was a great deal of dysfunction in my family. My parents had traumatic deaths, so I feel your pain. However, after my parents died, I realized that I could FINALLY BE ME!!

    Celebrate the intelligent woman that you are. You may even discover that you are an extrovert in hiding… I was. In my case, I am happy to say that my parents are now gone. Do what you need to do to grieve and then flap your wings and FLY!! You are an intelligent, creative woman… Celebrate YOU!!

    Liked by 2 people

    • You’re very kind, Gwynn, thank you.
      Parents certainly open the way for us to enter time, and the relationship with them, good, bad or non-existent is often complex. Fortunately, to help us further along, so we can become who we can be, there are also significant others, soul brother and soul sisters we meet in life.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Yes, soul brothers and soul sisters can give me the oxygen I need to help me out of my shell on my journey to be me. I learned that family is not necessarily blood relatives. Family is the people in life who support you with like interests and ideas. My parents only believed that family were blood related. I’m expanding my horizons! Keep letting the fresh air in and embrace life!

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Sending you comfort to deal with the passing of your father, and all the thoughts, feelings, and memories this brings. As always, you are wise to use your creativity as an outlet. It’s our only hope!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. A little more freedom, a little more happiness, and a little more beauty.

    What a wonderful mantra!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. All condolences Ashen. I’ve read this only now. The father daughter relationship is so complicated-may you find or be at peace as you deal with the aftermath of his death🌸🌺

    Liked by 1 person

  7. May you be peaceful, happy, and light in mind, body, and spirit (from the first the Thich Nhat Hanh nine prayers).

    Liked by 1 person

  8. A very touching, sensitive and candid remembrance. Thank you, Ashen.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, David ☼
      I’m familiar with the episode you dug up from T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland, where the Starnbergersee features. It touches a nerve in so many ways. I’ll write more about this place where I grew up.


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