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|Subject: A83485821 - Ramblings of an Ordinary Woman|
Posted Apr 11, 2011 by frannie
|Entry: Ramblings of an Ordinary Woman - A83485821|
Author: frannie - U14838357
Ramblings of an Ordinary Women
1st March 2011
With the impending closure of the shop I am forced to confront the reality of looking for future employment. As with all the other recent decisions in my life, I am relying on the Cosmos for help. I stumbled across the theory of Cosmos ordering some years ago. The new millennium was upon us, humanity seemed ready to embrace a new age. Science and technology had opened up a world of possibilities. It seemed as if the human race reached adulthood. Ironically, however the age of enlightenment seemed to be about to be replaced by the age of illusion. New philosophies and religions based on mysticism and ideas once dismissed as naÔve were cropping up all over the place. There was an upsurge of alternative therapies. The worship of Mother earth as a benevolent life-force, and use of crystals in healing were the order of the day. Adulthood can be boring, everyone secretly longs for the magic of childhood. Personally I favour the use of a plaster to cover over my cuts, and would rather take a tablet to cure my headache, but I too was captivated by the idea of seeing a rabbit pulled out of a hat.
My ex mother-in-law, a trained nurse was one of those people who signed up for the magic. She took a course in reflexology. For seven weeks she attended a night class and graduated with honours. To be accurate, she was presented with a badly printed certificate with her name written on it, stating that she had completed the course. But to her it was a licence to practice her newly acquired skills on an unsuspecting public. It became impossible to mention any little aches or pains in her presence without her volunteering her services. She offered to impart some of her newly acquired knowledge to me once. I was suffering from abdominal pain at the time and she promptly came around for a consultation. She explained to me that in order to find out the cause of my problem she would manipulate my feet. I am not entirely against the idea of alternative therapies. But somehow I found it difficult to believe that a seven week course held on a Tuesday night would equip her with the skills to diagnose cancer by wiggling my little toe. She began her examination and asked me to tell her if any of the spots she pressed caused me any pain. Apparently this would be an indication of the problem area. As often demonstrated by her baking, she didnít possess a light touch, and her brutish prodding caused me to wince in pain quite often. It became apparent that if the results of her examination were to be believed I had several severe ailments in most of my major organs, and an ambulance would be required to rush me to the hospital immediately. However, she decided that a cup of tea would be preferable whilst she consulted her books. After some deliberation on her part, aided by a couple of digestive biscuits and some Earl Gray, she concluded that it was probably nothing to worry about and would go away of its own accord. Comforted by her diagnosis, I treated myself to a fish supper. I was rushed to hospital later that night to have my gall bladder removed. The doctors were confused about the bruises on my feet, but decided that they were unrelated to my illness.
I digress, I do that a lot. Cosmic ordering was one of the philosophies that appealed to me. Apparently, if my understanding is correct, one just voices their desires and wishes to the Universe and the Universe gives you what you ask for. Part of the philosophy of cosmic ordering is that there is no such thing as coincidence, everything happens in response to what we desire or think and becomes reality. I was somewhat sceptical at first, after all it sounded like the demented ranting of new age hippies, but I was willing to be open-minded about it.
However, it does have its drawbacks, because if the Cosmos does have a gender I think itís male. I have had successes in the past, when I have voiced my desires out loud, but sometimes the results arenít necessarily the ones I had hoped for. To be fair, they have been what I have asked for, but far too specific for me.
After all, I had suppressed my cynicism enough to sit through my friend Sueís humanist wedding, which involved sitting in a field in Wales together with a collection of aged bemused relatives and various family members. The choice of venue somehow didnít live up to my pre-conceived image of a summer meadow full of daisies and cowslips; it was an unused field beside a busy road overgrown with dandelions and thistles. The invited guests sat in a circle, their numbers swelled intermittently by the transient attendance of the bewildered passengers on the local buses that passed by. We were all witnesses that day, some by choice, others by coincidence, to the declarations of truth and eternal love voiced by bride and groom. The cosmos did listen that day. When the couple subsequently divorced, three years later, Sue remarried a car mechanic (he had been driving past on her wedding day and they had met via a mutual friend on facebook), coincidence, no it canít have been, thereís no such thing. When Sue had voiced her wedding oaths that day and her desire to be Georgeís wife, the cosmos answered. George is also the name of her now husband(she should have specified George Fry the man I am standing opposite, the one whoís hand I am holding). The Cosmos was put on the spot, split between the choices of the two Georges present; it did what most males do, applied logic. Just like the ordering of CDs on a shelf, it chose the one which came first in the alphabetical pecking order. Likewise when George Blake had glanced over at the wedding party and had involuntary said I wish I had one of those, he was speaking about the BMW festooned with wedding ribbons. Happily their subsequent wedding was held in the registry office, followed by a party at the local pub. People are fickle. Or maybe Sue had long stopped believing in magic. If the Cosmos is male, then you just have to spell out every little detail of what you wish for. Unfortunately, as a woman I find this difficult to do. As a woman I expect you to understand the nuances and underlying factors of everything I say.
The old adage Ďbe careful what you wish forí seems to be based on truth. One New Years Eve, sat alone, lamenting my lack of a social life, listening to love songs on the radio, I mused on the thought that there was no one in my past who I could relate any of the songs too. No special someone whoís face came to mind as I cried over the lyrics of George Michaels ĎLast Christmasí. None of my exís fitted the bill. Maybe if I had been listening to Gloria Gaynor, events might never have turned out as they did. Fuelled by too much red wine I must have spoken this thought out loud. I happened to be browsing the pages of Friends Reunited (a sure sign, I had drunk too much and really needed to get out into the real world more often) when I saw a name which sent me spiralling into the past. There on my school home page was the boy who had haunted my dreams, sleeping and awake, during my adolescence. I felt the rush of excitement as only a thirteen year old can, not always advisable for a woman of forty seven. Any sensible person knows that Alcohol and the internet spell disaster, but unfortunately Alcohol is not renowned to be a provider of good sense. I promptly emailed the golden boy of my youth. Just a casual note really, saying hello, donít suppose you remember me, etc.
When I awoke the next day and memories of the previous evening began to come back to me, I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine and promptly went about the day in a state of denial. Life was normal, apart from the occasional mutterings from me of ĎOh Noí. Later that evening I did what any self-respecting woman who had made a fool of herself would do. I checked my emails. There it was, a reply from my beautiful boy. His email was wonderful, he said he did remember me, and had often mentioned me to friends over the years. Apparently he had told them that he knew a girl once (me) that was really intelligent and had often imagined that I was teaching somewhere now. I overlooked the fact he remembered me for my brains and not my stunning beauty, and replied. A series of emails followed, we wrote to each other every day and I found myself becoming infatuated with him all over again. Then one day he sent me some photos. The first one was how I remembered him. It was taken when he was seventeen; he had long strawberry blonde hair and stunning good looks. The next photo was of a short fat bald man who bore more than a passing resemblance to Charlie Drake the comedian. The Cosmos can be very cruel sometimes. It had given me what I had asked for, a long lost love from my past, unfortunately he was wearing the disguise of an old man. A series of meetings followed, but try as I might although I was desperately looking for the boy within the man, I couldnít see him. He was hidden beneath too many layers of fat. Eventually by mutual consent (on my part) we stopped corresponding.
My faith in the Cosmos was still intact, albeit if I had to add a few little tweaks of my own. I started to rethink over so called coincidences that had occurred in my life and my findings were quite spooky. Like the time I wanted another plastic greenhouse thingy for the garden. The one I had was too small to accommodate all my tomato seedlings and I wished I had another one. The following week I visited my bossís wife to do some typing and there was one which she no longer used packed up beside her kitchen door ready for the tip. So it would appear that I had asked and the Universe had answered. There were lots of small things. Phone calls from friends, which I hadnít seen in ages, but had been thinking about the day before. So inadvertently I had been Cosmic ordering for years without realising it.
Armed with this new found knowledge I became a follower and set about voicing my desires and sat back and waited for the results. I had read that sometimes the things we desire might take a while to come to fruition, so itís advisable to consider what would happen if you had wished for something and it appears when you no longer want it. There are dangers in life that we bring upon ourselves. Sometimes we wish for things that we think we need and when they present themselves in an unexpected form we have to deal with the consequences. A case in point that illustrates this concerns my friend Norma. I told Norma about cosmic ordering and she said Ďall I really want is more moneyí. I advised her that one shouldnít wish for money. Apparently that is taboo. Itís okay to ask the Cosmic for an idea which you utilise to enable you to become rich, but not for money itself. But she ignored my advice, she wanted more money. Later that day, when she went to work her boss gave her an unexpected bonus, so she was a convert. She continued to wish for more money every day. No more money was forthcoming so she stopped believing. Later that year, her husband had a stroke and was confined to a wheelchair. She got her wish. Her income is now supplemented by his disability allowance and her careers allowance.
I havenít asked the Universe for anything recently. It all seems a bit too risky for me. But now I am willing to try again. I will try to be really specific. Here goes. I want my talents as a writer to be recognised by a reputable publisher, who will forward me an advance to write a novel, and not take it back when if I fail to write a bestseller. I want to earn enough money writing to enable me to support my children, live a comfortable lifestyle and pay my mortgage. I want to enjoy writing, write what I want. I want full editorial control over everything I write. I want the universe to show me a way to utilise my talents as a writer successfully. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait. I am willing to deal with the consequences, and when my novel about the plight of the demise of knitting as an art form is published, I will gladly sign copies in Waterstones. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
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