Walking to a new school, the spring breeze and smell of rain on the earth. Stirring emotions and curiosity, the dried leaves on the footpath mingle with dried dirt. Chattering of children and scuffling feet. A vision of the past, the echoing of history of what once was adds to the mystery. The air seems electric but wait, what does all this mean?
A shy child suddenly filled with fear, what will become of me? An act of fate suddenly intervenes. Another day another school, this one feels different, is it welcoming? Ah it’s ok I feel safe.
New faces, new memories, new bonds. School life is a new learning experience, mysteries abound. Fascination and curiosity combined tantalising the senses of new bounds. Push open the door and come inside. Welcome chum; come one come all, come see this great mystery of what school is about.
Forget what you thought and embrace the new, a students life begins anew. Eager for wisdom and eager for love; a small child in a world above others trembles in fear. What if they don’t like me, what will I do?
About face and run like the wind. Start again and finally fit in. This time it’s marvellous, who would have dreamed that the little girl who wrote this was about to begin; her journey to the future with a quiet din.
Off she went singing in her head to her tune, that girl from nowhere who struggled to begin; has now grounded her foundations of where to begin. It took a long time coming, but when she began she wouldn’t shut up with that terrible din. Of non stop nonsense; oh where to begin. So much is new to me; where to fit in, so much I don’t know but somehow must cram in the knowledge of a lifetime; and a silent guide that comes from within. Who would have thunk that this girl would ever begin; to shape her world from deep down within her, a spiritual calling was about to begin.
Off she went to the post in a flash, this witty little girl with a moment of flash, inspiration that pulled her this way and that, up to then she thought she’d fall flat. But surprise upon surprise she did it by Jove she proved to others there was plenty of hope. For someone that suffered and thought she’d never fit in the wee girl from Scotland has at last come to her own, self realisation at a moments whim. She picked up her cards and let it begin.
Then lo and behold she is off again on a new translation of where to begin. What the hell am I doing, I don’t know where to begin. Just listen to your guide; I’m sure you’ll fit in. Just bear a moment and then to begin; the new chapter of life is about to begin, a new inspiration when you though your done in. Get off your arse girl you’re about to begin. So pull back the curtain and let us begin, there isn’t much time so now you begin, that little girl from Scotland that couldn’t fit in.
You made it this far yet you didn’t give in, so get off your arse we’re about to begin. I see your eyes light up, you’re about to begin the biggest journey in life, just when you thought you’d never fit in. Welcome aboard, your journeys begun, the little girl from Scotland who didn’t fit in. Blast you; that you didn’t show me how, how on earth was I ever to fit in, in a world of misfits where no one fits in.
You weren’t meant to. But gees, you’d better get moving your about to begin. So get of your arse you're about to begin. Tell one tell all you’re about to begin. If you don’t believe; then just give in. But that little girl is going to fit in, come hell or high water, she’s about to begin. Come one come all, the team are awaiting your final call. Addendum be damned, come one come all, she’s about to begin. A chuckle from spirit and off she goes knowing full well that some will oppose. Undaunted on and on she goes to the dizzying heights that nobody knows. Take a bow and a curtsy to all in the wings, god only knows how in hell she did it so well. Well bugger me she says, I did it so well. That wee Scottish lassie we know so well.
Her funeral will be remembered as one with a swell; of faces that knew her so well, that wee Scottish girl that we all knew so well. Blessings upon her she’s shy to admit, she feels she doesn’t deserve it, but we know her so well. That wee girl from Scotland that we all love so well, now get off your arse and do what we tell, that wee girl from Scotland that we all love so well.
Copyright ©️ Alex Fulford, March 2023
Note: I am no poet, but this was just channelled to me this morning by my guides to give me a message not to give up. The words used are not words that I use. Things have been difficult of late. But suddenly this was given to me, virtually word for word. I see a group in spirit and they are in a very humorous mood so the message is received loud and clear.
Fronting this team were Elaine, my spirit teacher for learning astrology who was related to me via marriage though we never met in the flesh as she had passed before the marriage took place, and a man in a dark suit I feel he is a poet, but not identified.
Update: I realised that I didn’t mention the man placed his brownish coloured felt hat like a fedora hat on what looked like a table. This was like his calling card. No, I don’t believe it was Banjo Paterson. I honestly don’t know who this man is. My maiden name is Paterson though, and Banjo Paterson’s ancestors come from the same region in Scotland but this is a very common surname in Scotland. That is as far as the connection goes and my love for his poetry. I have a feeling that this man is Elaine's husband. I did meet him in this lifetime but he was quite old when I knew him and is of Scottish ancestry. I have seen Elaine's husband in spirit as how I knew him; when visiting my father at his house shortly before he went into his nursing home.