International Women’s Day (March 8) is a global day celebrating the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women.
On this day, I am happy and grateful for the toil and endeavours of the many women along history, without the efforts of whom I could not have been what I have become: a strong woman with choices. I was able to choose to study, to have a career, to write my bold words, to vote and to be voted for.
A merry day for all the women of this world!
I illustrate with a picture of one of my favourite artists: Remedios Varo
When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew the path;
With the falling of the snow,
With the cawing of the crow,
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowen mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom.
Art – Samuel Palmer, Harvest Moon, The Weald, Kent, 1833
“When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”
– C. S. Lewis
“I was most inspired by pity for the beast’s awful loneliness and self-disgust. His tragedy is to know all about beauty and how to create it in everything around him, but to miss it in himself.”
– Angela Barrett, on illustrating “Beauty and the Beast”
What if some day or night a demon were to steal into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: “This life as you now live and have lived it you will have to live once again and innumerable times again; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unspeakably small or great in your life must return to you, all in the same succession and sequence — even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself…”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
A yet lived life comes with new trousseau of thought and feeling. At times we have to give in to treading softly and happily as if we have to relive it all over again…and there are never too many moonlit paths, nor enough spiders. That is why we write, to feel in the mouth the sky of the life already-lived.