Imprinting - Twilight

I was unfamiliar with the term ‘imprinting’ when I read the Twilight series of novels by Stephenie Meyer. I understood it to be a strong infatuation, but it was more than that in the story setting of a supernatural fantasy world. I wanted to know what the teenaged and young adults were reading and raving about. This was a long time ago, when my daughter was fourteen or fifteen years old. The film versions quickly hit the cinema and helped to raise the profile of lead actor, Robert Pattinson. He was an attractive vampire.

Quoting from online information,

“In Twilight, imprinting is a supernatural, involuntary soulmate bond that occurs exclusively among the Quileute shape-shifters. Where a wolf first phases, they may instantly imprint on someone, completely overriding their own free will and severing previous attachments.”

Character Jacob, a wolf, attempts to explain imprinting to character, Bella, wife of vampire. He has previously been in love with Bella, but now is imprinting on her new born daughter, Renesmee,

“It’s not like love at first sight, really it’s more like…gravity moves…suddenly. It’s not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that’s a protector, or a lover, or a friend.”

 The books gave me an insight into what some impressionable teenagers were reading and watching. As usual with me, I preferred the novels to the films. Imprinting, up to now, isn’t a word in my regular use.

I thought of imprinting as being a family likeness, the way we take after our parents in looks and traits. I met a little girl years ago when I first worked in a school. She was four or five years old and an absolute carbon copy of a girl I had known when I was a child in another town. Many years passed and the little girl was grown up when I discovered that her mother was the girl from my childhood.

I found this poem,

 Imprinting Stare

I sit upon the earthen floor,
Staring up at my first vision.
My true emotion revealed.
But as I imprint,
I am torn away
My delicate eyes burnt beyond the
Purpose of pain.

I am the butterfly,
Waiting to pervade the shell of my cocoon.
I am the spider,
Waiting with omnipotent patience,
To drink my fill.
I am the serpent,
Cursed with the destiny to slide among
The lowest beings.

But most of all,
I am Human,
Blessed with emotion, Cursed with Heartache,
I learn, live and love.
I am Man.
And I shall arise again.

Stuart Logan.

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Paths - One Road

Throughout our adult lives we follow paths based on our choices. We reach cross-roads and face directional dilemmas. There can be consequences for a bad decision. A learning curve. We cross paths with others and share paths with many. My late dad and I shared a saying for these experiences, “Another stitch in life’s rich tapestry”. The saying often related to a conclusion or something that we considered to be “Sod’s Law”. I still say it. We travelled many paths together. I was always Daddy’s Girl and spent my childhood living in his shadow. He showed me the way to find the right path then, with the patience of a saint, helped me to stay on it after I’d veered right off.

One Road, a song by Love Affair

I don't have your nagging doubts
I know what you're going through
So if it helps you to decide One road leads to sadness
One road leads to pain
One road shows you life is a game One road leads to darkness
One road leads to light
One road leads you life to love I don't want you to be confused
Or demoralized or abused
I just want you free to choose
Who you want to have or loose
So if it helps you to decide One road leads to darkness
One road leads to light
And one road leads you life to love You know one road leads to sadness
One road leads to pain
And one road shows you life is a game, yeah Oh, one road leads to darkness
And one road leads to light
And one road leads you life to love.

Written by Philip Goodhand-Tait

This song was a popular choice on our pub juke-box at the time, and a personal favourite.

I’ve tried to be a good guiding light to my children and grandchildren, but I lack my dad’s level of tolerance.

In a more literal sense, my husband and I are currently travelling unfamiliar paths in the Channel Islands. We’re having an adventure while we can just about do it, physically. Using a wheely walker on cobbled, hilly paths has some challenges and driving narrow roads with no clue to the destination brings surprises. Already familiar with Jersey, we’re staying in Guernsey and looking forward to visiting Sark and Herm.

This poem must be included in this week’s theme,

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost 1874 - 1963

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Arboreal - A Wild Night

 

The Friendly Tree

I’ve found a place beside a friendly tree,
Where I’ll hide my face when the world hurts me,
For the tree will never hurt; I shall love it to the end;
It shall have a dear, dear name:
“My true and silent friend.”
                                                                    Annette Wynne

The weather had been pleasant for a few days. There was a hint of warmth in the weak sun when it crept between the clouds and the temperature was a constant 17 degrees centigrade. We set off for a short break in our caravan, to an unfamiliar site just north of Garstang. Rural and surrounded by trees was the main appeal, besides the practical requirement for us, fully serviced pitches. A pub with restaurant was only a five minute drive away. Handy for dinner. Luckily, we’d finished setting everything up before the rain came, the weather breaking as we expected. By nightfall the wind had increased. The trees took on a loud wildness, branches swaying, leaves rustling. Psithurism. Almost stormy, certainly scary. Tucked up in my sleeping bag, worrying about the possibility of being crushed by a falling tree, something brought to mind stories from my childhood, in my Enid Blyton era. The Enchanted Wood, The Magic Faraway Tree and all of those books which captured my imagination. I wanted to live in one of those tiny houses at the top of the tree. I think I still do. By morning, the wind had lessened to a breeze and the rain continued. We didn’t get to sit outside, but it was a nice break.

Galloway Forest Park is perfect for a stroll or a drive, with lots of woodland wildlife, hidden from view. Some areas are dense with pine trees. It is interesting to go off track and just listen to nature. It’s somewhere we like to visit on our regular trips, though we need to stay on the road and in the car these days. I’ve never seen a red squirrel, but live in hope.

Lots of grey squirrels live in my neighbourhood. There’s a regular, well-fed visitor to my garden and I’ll often find buried monkey nuts, which I try not to disturb too much. I think they come from tree-lined East Park Drive, or the trees on the local field.

I love this poem,

Poplar Trees are Happiest

Poplar trees are laughing trees,
With lilting silver call.
Willow trees droop weepingly
And never laugh at all.
Maple trees are gorgeous trees
In crimson silks and gold;
Pine trees are but sober trees,
Aloof and very old.
Black-oak trees walk sturdily,
And live oaks eager run;
The sycamores stand lazily
Beneath the summer sun.
But poplar trees are laughing trees
Wherever they may grow –
The poplar trees are happiest
Of all the trees I know.

                                  John Russell McCarthy.


Thanks for reading, Pam x

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