When I make jam I generally put off writing the labels for days. The jars hang around in the kitchen then finally I write those labels, hurriedly. I’d not thought why, until today.
This evening I staggered to my room dead tired after picking fruit most of the afternoon and then making a batch of jam into the evening. First Gooseberries growing in the hedge close to the monastery then, once again, over the hill to my favourite place of the moment. To pick Raspberries in a wildlife-cum-forest garden – with fruit bushes and trees too. Love the place, love the people.
Writing my labels just now I remembered the shadow of early punishments at school! ‘Write a hundred lines’ the teacher would say, write ‘I must try harder’ she instructed. Write, ‘Raspberry Jam. 16th August ’21’, nine times.
Interesting how such early experiences leave a lasting impression, influencing one’s behaviour (not to mention a life) for numberless decades.
So many impressions on the young sensitive mind. Some subtle, some less so. My youthful misdemeanors were minor ones. Scares, minor ones.
This post is for those young minds (and bodies) scared unbearably, astonishingly, in such a way – totally off the scale. Repeatedly.
9 thoughts on “Marked for Life”
Thank you. Reading this is like hearing the first rain drops of healing after a long hidden drought.
Aw, bless you dear friend.
How interesting. To make the connection. 😊. Wonder how many of our behaviours are linked to the past.
Memory plays a big part in our habitual behaviours I believe and born out from my own experience. Experience of the world, and myself responding to it…..
True but I made a lot of money by writing lines for other students and charging them for the privilege!
Bad girl! Good for improving hand writing. And for the pocket. I hope you saved up for a Trombone.
A very moving dedication.
Thanks. Heart felt actually. Thinking about emotional and physical safety, and vision…..
I had a bit of a giggle as I’ve been canning and blending wild blueberries and blackberries, along with never-ending tomatoes from my own garden for days. (I’ve moved to Oregon from Ca)
But then late last night I had dark demons running amok in my head and one thing or thought that reoccurred was words , a sentence or careless comment that made a deep lasting negative impact on me.
The damage is done to one that sometimes haunts in the dark night, guess it was best to examine it, it’s lingering effect in the wee hours and decides enough…wrap it up like a ball of string and tossed it out the window.