Author: Catherine

I have been thinking about the way time moves. Not with nostalgia, just with the awareness that life goes faster than we expect. We look back and realise whole years passed quietly while we were busy with something else. Ten years can feel long while we live them, then shrink the moment we glance behind us.

Some moments stay.
Others disappear without warning.

I have been longer with my husband than without him. 25 years. (Married 18) It is a simple fact, but it shows how much life shifts without us noticing. There were many versions of me before this one. All of them led here. And here feels right.

People often treat short moments as unimportant, yet they shape us more than we admit. A sentence someone said. A wound that formed in seconds but stayed for years. A quick decision that changed direction. Time gathers everything, even the fragments we barely registered.

For a long time, amor fati was a quiet philosophy I carried with me. Not loudly, but as a way of looking at my life. Amor fati means “love of fate,” the idea that everything that happens, welcome or unwelcome, belongs to the path that leads to now. It is not about calling every moment good. It is about recognising that every moment is part of the whole.

At some point, without realising it, I drifted away from it. Life grew busy and loud, and the things that usually keep me centred slipped out of focus. But recently, amor fati returned. Not as a rule, not as a performance, but as a calm way of standing in my own story. A reminder that nothing in my past needs correcting. A steady place to return to when the days get difficult. It feels like my baseline now. And I like that. It feels true.

And with that clarity, I still do not regret anything.
Not the missed chances.
Not the unclear choices.
Not the mistakes.

Regret tries to rewrite what cannot change. But nothing in my life would look the same if even one moment had shifted. Every turn, hesitation, and leap shaped this present.

To love fate is not to pretend everything was pleasant. It is to accept that everything belongs. To see the past as something complete, not something waiting for repair. Decisions made sense in their moment, and even the hard ones carried us forward.

There were things I did not do.
Words I did not say.
Possibilities that dissolved before becoming real.

But regret does not help. The past stands as it is. What remains is how we see it. And when I look at mine directly, I see movement, growth, and lessons that would not exist without the difficult parts.

We cannot waste what was never ours.
We cannot lose chances that were never meant to stay.
We cannot undo what formed us.

So I choose acceptance over regret.
Clarity over longing.
And amor fati as a steady way of living.

Time moves. Moments slip through our hands.
But every one of them brought me here.

Everything we do leaves a trace. 💜❤️

###

PS

By the way, 32 years ago Nirvana’s unplugged album was recorded, released a year later in late 1994, mere months after Kurt Cobain’s passing at 27 years old. That album is older than Kurt ever was. And his legacy moves on. Let that sink in.

I move through the world
quiet enough to be overlooked,
present enough to be seen.
I take space without asking,
and when I leave,
something in the air lingers.

I am the weight of barely enough,
the pressure of far too much.
A step back when I meant to stay,
opening my eyes when I should have hidden.

I fade for a moment,
then reappear
with an uninvited breath.
Places I swore to avoid
still find me on their ledge.

I keep silent until it turns heavy.
Thoughts live on my tongue
and never find a way out.
Light thins
when I move through it,
leaving imprints on unthought thoughts.

Rooms are bathed in shadows
if I stay.

I am the dream that wakes you at night.
A whisper and a scream.
Invisible, then blinding.

I am everything you need
and never can have.
The poem behind your thoughts,
the words that vanish
the moment you blink.

Don’t go away ’21

i like this one, how it was written and what it said. It is unmistakably my voice, but I am more restraint now. The musicality is strong in this piece too.

if you don’t like clicking linke to read, here is the complete old poem:

I am between flying and sinking
Between dreaming and thinking
There are a million reasons to be
Endless new days to see.
And all I want is to be with you;
To be awake in your thoughts too.
If you could hold my hand
You would feel and understand.
There are too many words to say,
Plead with you and beg: don’t go away.

what do you think?

To be honest, I was looking for something to repost, something worth your while. And I stumbled across this particular post from November 2024.

Remembering November – throwback post

The post is an archive of sorts. I did well with those posts, but only a year later I had already forgotten they existed. Good thing I go down the archives once in a while to be reminded of little gems.

Another piece worth revisiting from November 2024 is this one:

It’s the musical/spoken version of a poem called Threads that I wrote. The words and the voice are mine; the music and production are Daniel Cavanagh / Weather Systems. His music elevated my words into a different sphere.
The piece is about feeling a presence; something universal, something constant yet impossible to explain. It drifted into a more spiritual space than I normally write in, but it felt right. It isn’t about romantic love; it reaches deeper.
And, as always with poetry, it remains open to your own interpretation.

https://on.soundcloud.com/qDWJGHn7Qfd52eV6ba

Thank you for being here and seeing me. It matters.

You see, I had a couple of not so great days. Two days ago everything happened at once: losing my keys, my diary, my necklace, breaking my favourite pair of boots because I fell up the stairs (the sole came off). It was also the birthday of my father in law and of a woman who is very dear to my heart, and in all the chaos I forgot to wish her a happy birthday. And it was the anniversary of my grandma’s passing.

The entire day was simply too much and resulted in anxiety. I overreacted, but that happens after a night of no sleep and overstimulation. By the way, I found everything again.

Then yesterday started well, until suddenly during class in the morning my head began hurting. It was dull at first, until it developed into a migraine not thirty minutes later. I took some meds, but they did not kick in. In the meantime my eye began watering and my head felt like it was about to split in two.

My colleagues urged me to go home, which I did, skipping a team meeting. Once home, nausea was added to the mix and the headache became much worse. It became so bad that I called into work and said I would not be in today. I do not do that lightly. It feels like failure, like letting everyone down. But I needed it.

There is still a dull ache behind my left eye.
Maybe you are wondering why I am sharing all this here. It is easy. It is something I noticed in myself. I am the one who carries everyone through storms, but when I am in need of a lighthouse it seems as if they are out of lighting bulbs.

This blog is an emotional home where I do not need to carry everything by myself internally. I know the way the blog is conceived means it does not invite comments or likes. It feels too intrusive, does it not? But that is alright.

One truth remains. If you are here, reading or maybe even clicking the links, you are part of the journey. You are invited to witness the tiny pieces of myself that I reveal. Apparently I reveal everything and nothing at all. I like that idea.

Goodnight, sleep tight.

Brace for war
We never really saw
We never really saw

Tumbling down the clouds
Crumbling in our doubts

Dance
Dance
DANCE

We don’t know
We don’t know

Flowers on our graves
Cold shoulders without grace

Brace for war
The sky is losing a star
The sky is losing a star

All the love we lost
Fading into dust

Dance
Dance
DANCE

We don’t
Know
Never
Know

If my moon is calling your waves
and my colours awaken your soul,
then my walls need to crumble.

My reflection shivers in your window
when the sun rises at midnight.
Ride with me on our last breath.

We will meet again
in sandcastles built on clouds.
Because we are soap bubbles,
a blink of an eye.
Born of stardust,
drowning in the sky.

I spent a bit of time with the blog today, just quietly rearranging things. Nothing dramatic. But the menu at the top makes a bit more sense now.
You’ll find poetry, writing, spoken pieces, music reviews, and the stream of consciousness posts in clearer sections. It’s still the same space, just a little easier to navigate.

This blog has been here for more than a decade and, as you probably know, the archives are… a lot. I didn’t always tag things consistently, and I rarely thought about how someone else might try to find something later. I wrote and posted and moved on.

So now I’m trying to make the older work more available, instead of letting it drown under the newer pieces. There is good writing in those early years too, if you find it, lol. Even now, there is still a lot hidden underneath the surface.

I’ll keep slowly sorting, re-tagging, and making the paths through this place a little clearer. I also noticed links that aren’t working anymore or photos and videos that aren’t loading. I’ll sort it out slowly.

If you feel like wandering, wander. You will notice there aren’t many likes or comments. But I guess that’s because of the tone and voice of the blog. Don’t be shy. If you encounter something and want to say something, do. I am quite available (even if I don’t look like it.)

There is no right order, no recommended starting point. Just follow whatever title feels like it speaks to you. Or don’t. The space is here either way.

Just a small change.
But it feels good to have touched the roots again.

My dreams are burning,
flames licking at my feet,
setting fire to broken bones
on a new moon night.

There is no air,
only smoke and dust,
and I am suffocating
with every breath I take.

Once I had a future waiting.
Now only the past breaks me.
I stand in the ashes of who I pretended to be;
an invisible stain on a clear sky.

I pray for the rain to wash me away,
to fade me out before you see me.
But the stars show no mercy.
I am a lighthouse no more.

Ruins ablaze, cold to the touch,
I hide my face and shatter.
Hold me one more time
before nothing of me remains.

I wake with loss clinging to my skin.
My heart racing without aim.
Nothing is everything. It is all the same.
I close my eyes and give myself to darkness again.

She arrives like light settling on the evening table,
quiet, certain, without hurry.

The air shifts before she speaks,
the way weather changes before rain,
a fine electricity beneath the skin.

She sees what surrounds her as it is,
and holds her shape until she unfolds.
There are rooms in her built from memory and bone,
and doors that open when it is least expected.

Her love moves the way the ocean reshapes stone,
not sudden, not loud,
a persistence that leaves an imprint.

She touches without claiming,
and the body adjusts around her,
as if making space were something it always knew how to do.

When she leaves, nothing collapses.
The room keeps its shape.
The day continues.

Yet the body remembers
what the mind sets aside,
turning, almost involuntarily,
at the slightest trace of her.

Such a dramatic title, but here is what happened. For weeks I had this idea sitting in my head, taking up too much space. I wanted to create a new method for my class, something short and simple to help the children move from free play to more focused activities without losing their calm. Nothing complicated. Just something that works and feels natural.

Until now, I’d been using the Méthode Félicitée. It’s meant to help children transition from one activity to another, using a mix of movement and calm moments. In theory, it’s great. In practice, I never felt trained enough in it, so I kept improvising my way through. I used it for two years and always felt slightly off, like I was following a map drawn by someone who had never met my class. And this year’s group is different again. They are more lively, more sensitive, and they don’t respond well to routines that feel too strict. So I decided to make my own version.

In my head, it was all very clear. I could see the flow, the order, the balance between calm and movement. It made perfect sense in theory. But when I finally started creating it last week, it was a complete mess. The cards didn’t look right, the activities didn’t connect, and the whole thing felt flat. I got frustrated. I started doubting the idea. I almost convinced myself to give up and just use the old method again.

And then today it happened. Out of nowhere. I sat down, started from scratch, and somehow it all came together. I worked for hours without a break, completely focused. Ten small exercises, a mix of relaxation and movement, about fifteen minutes in total. I called it Vague d’équilibre, the wave of balance. It felt right immediately. Like something clicked into place.

To anyone else, it’s just a bunch of cards. But to me, it’s so much more than that. It’s the relief of finally making something that matches the idea in my head. It’s the quiet joy of not giving up. I showed it to a few people and tried to explain how happy I was, but no one really understood. Someone even made fun of me for being so invested in “school stuff.” I just laughed it off, but still. They don’t know how much this meant to me.

I hope these cards actually help. Maybe not just me, but someone else too. Maybe another teacher will use them one day and it’ll make their mornings easier. That would be nice.

Today was also the last day of a French training I’d been following. It was about how children learn new languages, and it turned out to be much harder than I expected. I thought it would be about songs, stories, and playful activities. Instead, it went deep into language acquisition, how children build meaning from tone, rhythm, and context long before they can speak properly. It made me rethink how much learning happens between the lines, how much depends on how we talk and not just what we say.

It was all in French, which is fine for me, but it still took a lot of focus. Reading theory in another language is one thing. Writing reflections about it and trying to sound intelligent is another. I caught myself rereading the same lines over and over because my brain refused to cooperate. But I got through it. Slowly. One cup of coffee at a time.

By the end of the day, I realised I’d been working for nine hours straight. No lunch, no breaks, just me trying to finish everything before my brain shut down. It’s been one of those days where exhaustion and satisfaction walk hand in hand. I’m proud. Quietly proud.

There’s no applause for this kind of thing. No one is going to give me a certificate for making flashcards or finishing a training module. But still, it feels good. I did it.

Now I can rest. Or at least try to. Because knowing myself, it won’t be long before my overthinking mind wants to convince me that it is time for something new again.

By the way, I can’t remember if I mentioned it here on the blog: last July I was convinced that I would write a new novel in November (for NaNoWriMo) – I don’t think that will happen.

It’s midnight 🙂 Goodnight

Where are you tonight?
I can’t feel your mind in mine.
Where’s your moon tonight?
Hiding behind clouds? No sign.
I can see the truth tonight.
Featherless wings will never fly.
We’re lost at sea tonight,
waves like cellophane alight.
We forgot how to dream tonight.
Even stars lose their shine
before they fade from sight.
Where are you tonight?

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🤎🖤🩶🤍🩷

I woke up in the middle of the night and this fell onto my screen. Only half awake, I don’t know what those words mean and I have no idea if they make any sense or if I remember them when I wake up. What does this mean?

If you are looking at this collage, you see all the books I’ve published to date. It doesn’t mean they are selling like crazy, it just means that there is a trace of me, of my thoughts, my fantasies, my inspirations; there is a trace of my unquiet mind on paper. And it is easily and readily available for everyone curious.

But it also means something else: if you have been in my life, on my mind, under my skin, in my dreams and in my blood since 2015, you are probably mentioned in more than one of these books.

Welcome to my world. Thank you for being my muse.