Beloved Flower Lover,
It was still early. We were still yawning. We were not being rude, just relaxing. Receptive, absorbing, concentrating and holding a place for the story that we had recieved about a particular mother and daughter.
Floral ideas to help the situation were being asked for. We felt it. We gave it.
Imagination, magic, reality, we were enchanted with what is naturally beautiful and the transition of life for teens in London today.
One lady in the team made us all move from yawning to laughter as she described her home life during her daughters teen transition. Hair tongs, nail varnish, twitter, fashion, boys, getting good grades and Justin Bieber. But it had now radically changed. She was doing her A’ levels now. She wanted to express another side of her womanly nature now.
We all laughed.
Later another expression of motherhood came to us.
She came in from work. Efficient and with big soft eyes.
Had she been crying?
Her daughter trailing behind her.
Had she been crying?
Her daughter described herself as the other Rhianna.
Her mother looked at her and then slowly wrapped her arms all around her daughter like huge wings.
Her daughter pulled back, her face getting hot, she cringed, yes she was in the spotlight.
We knew why they were both there.
As one of us talked to her mother, her daughter walked around the studio to get some breathing space. The baby girl softly asked,”How comes you don’t have a shop? it’s nice here”
“We will when it’s right”, we replied.
“Right now, we are mobile and love doing the pop up shop thing. Doing workshops, going here and there. It works, thanks for the kindness though…”
She looked back at us with a tiny smile in the mouth but very sad eyes and without an utter continued to look around the flowers, pictures and props.
Her mother had told us that she had been self harming and watching porn using her brothers wireless connection to the internet. She was ten and had just started her menstruation time. Much taller than all her class mates and very very slim. A great runner, and swimmer, she wanted to be a mystery to us.We could see that. She was wearing dark boyish clothes and wanted to disappear. She had two brothers, one older, one younger and a father who shouted a lot in the house.
Her mother whispered, my husband hurts…he shouted at my baby girl that she was ugly because she was….. She cut of her breath so no more words came forward.
We breathed as we felt her mothers tears, her suffering, then we stopped and yawned again. Some orchids caught our eye
We suggested a few names of youth workers in the local borough who used arts, singing, journalling, and more to help girls of all backgrounds to find their own love for themselves.
We felt we could talk to Rhianna about colour and how they all hold their own powers. She listened. She was still a little quiet and sullen as we gave her, her flowers. We gave her orchids.
“Do you know the other Rhianna has a tattoo on the front of her body. Her eyebrow lifted up and she said nodded a yes.
“Do you know who that tattoo is?
Our Rhianna was already just surprised that we did not tell her off about listening to her music.
“Her name is Auset, some call her Isis or Mary”.
“You might want to find out more about her. We found some really good statues at the Petrie museum in central London. You might even find one with her wings. Let us know what you find if you go and look at how she heals deep sorrows”.
When they left we talked about why it was important to teach boys and girls about how and why girls are so receptive. Boys too! We talked about why it’s important to impress acts of kindness into their spirits at their most receptive age. We talked about remembering ourselves as the little girl. We remembered those who cared enough for us to want us to care for ourselves in this way. Those who encouraged us to get us fully experience our own feelings of lovability turned onto ourselves.
Thank you we whisper as we give thanks for the visit today
The London Flower Lover