It was an enforced Coventry that I imposed upon myself.  There were very strong and valid reasons but oh! how I missed writing the words and weaving the reality. This was not as a result of my own doing….I arrived at ‘Coventry’ through the concepts and precepts of others and so it was wiser – a truly Buddhist gesture – to slip into the quiet and sojourn there for a while.  Did I heal?  Yes….there was a healing process fought against at first because I could not accept ….but once the struggle that my soul felt compelled to exercise, once the flailing arms and angry inner words passed….there was a stillness.  It was like accepting the death of something I once loved with all I ever had. It was a knowing that nothing will be the same as it was….nothing will be as open and honest ….it was gone.  Replaced by…?…? I accept that certain things will never be the same and I have learnt. To what depth my learning? I wish that I could bare my soul and show the scars….they have healed and I have become, I believe, stronger.  I mourn many things….I mourn that my father QM left me with so many hurtful memories. I mourn that I cannot recall ever once calling him ‘father’. I mourn that I could never have told him how badly wounded I was as a child, an adolescent and adult because of his fierce words and temper. I mourn that I could not tell him that material wealth was not a balm for emotional pain.  I still see evidence of his presence at my home and I have worked ceaselessly over the last three years to set his spirit and mine free from the bonds that bound us.  For days and weeks it goes well with not a thing or memory….and then something during the day will trigger an emotion and I have the anxious dreams.  I pray…in my own concepts of prayer….that he is at peace….that his own angry and damaged spirit is healed by the Great Physician of Life who fashions our souls.  I want that for him. In death I want us to be at peace.
This week sees another exam session.  I look back on the months of preparation for these first ever ‘Performance Awards’ and I know I could not have tried harder with the students.  As a teacher I struggled with absenteeism, winter illnesses and conflicting issues within the students psyche.  I could not make the deadline of sewing 16 new Spanish skirts…I fell short with 4.  I had to upgrade the ballet skirts since the students all grew….this I managed. All is as ready as I could do on my own.  My students are participating in the local RACA eisteddfod which happens each year and while I prepare those who wish to participate in Drama I nevertheless once again learn and assess as I listen to opinions of results and concepts of adjudications…..why do I feel fear?
This is a coming week of enforced silence, control and endurance. There is nothing more that I can do….but there is always more that needs to be accepted and endured.  ‘Like a lamb to the slaughter…with no voice’.
The Truth to tell? ….since Truth is reputed to set one free?….I am terribly tired of so many realities I can’t change within my profession.  It’s hurting bad. 
I have discovered a writer of children’s stories called Edit Maud Nesbitt….I cannot believe the brilliance of this woman’s writing.  I have shared her stories with the Drama students by giving them the CD of some of them.  When one needs escape or quiet repose there are always the words that rush like a waterfall over one and washes away all fears.

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