Turbulence Part 3… Invasion Of The Body Snatchers

Turbulence Part 3…  Invasion Of The Body Snatchers

Watching old scifi is a bit of a favourite pastime in the Taylor-Beales household. Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (both the 1956 and 1968 versions) has often been our choice of late night viewing. The story centres on an alien invasion. The aliens take over the bodies of people while they sleep at night turning them into “pod people” devoid of human emotion. To avoid this terrible fate, the humans have to keep awake at all times. It was a longstanding joke that when Bill and I were driving home extra late from a gig we’d turn to each other saying “Keep Awake!!” (in an attempt at a Donald Sutherland impression.) 

Two weeks after my fall in Italy, Bill was booked in to have major reconstruction surgery in his right hand. He’d been suffering as a result of a misdiagnosis for the last 18 months with a very painful injury that had left his one of his bones unattached to the ligaments. The operation was all meant to be routine. The hospital was to call me when everything was completed and our lovely friend Becky would be able to pick Bill up and bring him home. 8 hours later we still hadn’t had the phone call. I rang the hospital and was told to ring back in an hour. I rang back when I finally got through to the ward a staff member on the other end sounded strangely anxious. She said that she “… couldn’t give me details on the phone” but urged me to “Get to the hospital ASAP.”

Visiting hours had long since passed but Becky and I were mistaken for inpatients. My muscles were locked in deep cramps and spasm at that point and all I could do was literally inch my way forward using the crutches I’d been given. Becky’s wrists were also in bandages due to RSI. It was both surreal and comical being overtaken by elderly patients using zimmer frames as we shuffled at a snail’s pace along the corridors.

Bill wasn’t in the recovery room. A nurse greeted us, with the words “We’re monitoring him, we’ve got to make sure that he stays awake.”

It turned out that he’d suffered an almost fatal reaction to the morphine and had gone into what they call “respiratory depression” meaning his breathing was slowing to the point that his vital organs were beginning to shut down. It had taken two doctors and three nurses, several hours to bring him back around. Bill regained consciousness as he was having his face literally slapped to wake him up and keep him awake, while being slowly being given an antidote to the morphine, (meaning he had no pain relief after his major surgery.) He remembers seeing one of the nurses crying and watched her being escorted over to the corner of the room.  He later realised that she was crying because she’d thought he was going to die. We were ushered into the side room and I was shaken by the fact that he looked like death. The last time I’d seen someone with that translucent skin colour, was our friend Rob, in the days just before he’d died. Bill could hardly talk, we just had to try and keep him awake… we weren’t even sure if he could really hear us as he lay there attached to the multiple machines monitoring his vitals, when suddenly he whispered something in a hoarse thin voice. I leaned in close on my crutches to hear him. He was making a joke…

“It’s like the Body Snatchers… I must not fall asleep.” was the one thing he managed to say that evening.

That night I lay awake in a state of shock. In the past 2 weeks I had come face to face with my biggest fears. The fear I’d experienced that I might have killed our unborn daughter still haunted me. The reality that I’d also almost lost my husband was overwhelming. I was indescribably grateful they were both alive and completely shaken by how close I’d come to losing them. I cried a lot. I was still exhausted from the efforts of the epic journey it had been to get back to the UK. I was barely sleeping as the pain from my injuries kept me awake.

My nerves were shattered.

When Bill was finally discharged, he was still fragile, in a lot of pain form the surgery and obviously unable to use his right hand.

Our amazing friends Pete and Becky moved in and became our carers for the next few weeks. We will be forever thankful for the support of such friends.

Turbulence Part 2: The Falling

To Fall: “A sudden uncontrollable descent”…

On the 6^th of May 2012, when I was approximately 24 weeks pregnant, I fell off a 1.5 metre high stage and landed onto marble flooring, while I was on a short three date tour in Italy.

It was nobody’s fault, just an accident and life changing as it has been, I often remind myself that it could have been much worse. There have been ongoing physical issues that I have learned to live with and I lost full mobility for a season, but I am fortunate that the mobility loss has not been permanent. Most of all to put everything into perspective, I did not lose my child.

Pregnancy had been harsh up to that point (like it is for so many women). Morning sickness had started pretty much from the moment I realised I was pregnant while on tour in Sardinia in December 2011. I remember one night somebody commented that I was “ lost in thought, in a world of my own.” At that specific moment I’d been musing over the fact that I suspected I was most likely ‘with child’ (and feeling slightly guilty about all the wine I’d consumed during those days.) At 14 weeks, I performed a Radio Wales live session that had previously been booked in. I had to inform the host Alan Thompson that due to being pregnant I might need to throw up in between songs. The kind producer Llinos brought me in a bucket just in case I needed it. (I did throw up- but fortunately made it to the loos and not the bucket!) The sickness carried on for a full 20 weeks.

One night during that time, I had a very instructive dream. I dreamt that I was trying to park our transporter van, but it suddenly had a mind of its own and was driving in reverse every time I tried to move forward. I became very annoyed with it and began shouting “Just drive forward, why won’t you drive?!” Suddenly as I was still dreaming, my dream explained itself to me (something that has never happened before). I heard myself telling me “ You’re having a dream, the van in this dream is your body and now that you are pregnant you have become a passenger to your body. You’re just going to have to let go and let it do what it needs to do.”  Probably the best advice I’ve ever given myself! From then on in, I endeavoured to let myself be a passenger to my body as it got on with the job of growing a baby! I tried to brace myself as much as I could for the long haul.

In my minds eye now I see air pockets swelling as the first blow of turbulence is poised ready to strike.

24 weeks. It was the last day of my brief set of gig dates in Italy. I climbed the steps up onto the high stage at the venue in Centallo to get ready to sound check. My bump was huge (I’d been massive from very early on and people were already thinking I must have been due imminently) Earlier that afternoon I had looked down at the stage area with an ariel view from the high balcony seats above and remember thinking  “You really don’t want to fall off that stage, it’s so high.” (Uh huh, yep that’s right, I thought those exact words.) I toyed with the idea of getting someone to help me up the stairs and onto the stage as the position of the stairs meant that I would have to climb over a bit of equipment but I decided that if I was careful and took my time, I’d be fine. In the days that followed I made a pact with myself to always listen to my instincts in the future.

The venue was an old cinema, converted into a multi purpose arts centre. There was a huge screen and beautiful visuals being projected as we set up for sound check.

I took each step with care and reached the top feeling momentarily smug that danger had been averted. Somebody from the floor asked me a question and I turned to answer, at that moment the lights that were being checked, changed stetting and flashed in my eyes. I turned back to walk to my spot for sound check, stepping confidently onto what I thought was floor. It was nothing but shadow. Probably it was the light still in my eyes, or my bump being too big to see my footing, or both but I stepped down onto nothing. The drop was sudden but long enough for me to let out “oh Shit” and I twisted round quickly so as not to land on my bump. I heard a Mexican style wave of voices “shit, shit, shit, fuck” from the folks around me. My musical travelling companion Dylan told me that he’ll not forget the sound my body made as it smacked the ground. There was no give. I landed on my hip and lower back. Pins and needles emanated from my spine into my legs and followed by a temporary numbness. My first thought as I lay there on the ground, “ this is bad” my first words “ bambino” in Italian (technically should have been bambina). I struggled to sit up, just to prove to myself that I could still move, the pain was beginning to burn. The ambulance arrived and I was stretchered out. They couldn’t find my baby’s heartbeat. One of the ambulance crew held my hand and they searched again and again, time blurred and faltered as I waited and hoped and finally after what seemed like several lifetimes they found her heartbeat.

Indescribable relief.

I had not killed my baby.

No matter what kind reasoning anyone had said or offered me in those moments that was all that I could think.

The season of turbulence had well and truly begun… my injuries and severely limited mobility that lasted throughout pregnancy and beyond, was the first shake up. Two weeks later Bill nearly lost his life during his major hand reconstruction surgery...

Turbulence, Part 1 : The Long Haul Flight

Yesterday I found myself writing just over 7000 words unpacking events of the last 5 years. I've decided to put them up here as a series of blog posts over the next few days or so... 

Turbulence…. Part 1 The Long Haul Flight

Ever since I can remember, long haul flights between the UK to Australia have been part of my norm. (I shudder to think of my carbon footprint.) My earliest flying memories are aged five, though I’d already migrated twice before that. This was the third migration back to Western Australia via Darwin for my Uncle's wedding. The journey was long. My 6 month baby brother had whooping cough and understandably my mum was very concerned (My poor mum was on her own with us 3 on a long haul flight while my dad had work to finish and was joining us weeks later). It was back in the days of smoking on planes and I don’t think this was helping the situation. At some point during the flight my three-year old brother and I got to visit the cockpit and see the pilots flying (something that would never happen these days but this was 1983). I was even given the pilot’s hat to wear for a moment. Mostly I remember thinking that there were a lot of controls and it all looked complicated and that the pilot (or co-pilot not sure which) had a very loud voice.

Turbulence came hand in hand with every flight I made and I was always very nonchalant about it, shrugging it off as just part of the ride that I knew would soon pass. I didn’t experience severe turbulence until my early twenties. Although I’ve been subsequently assured that we were unlikely to have been in any real danger, it was frankly terrifying. The plane shuddered and bumped and buffeted, and then came the moment when we dropped and then dropped again. The second drop I counted the seconds as I felt my stomach lurch. Drinks were thrown up into the air and spilled… one, two, three, four… still dropping, five… people were shrieking in fear… six, seven… the refreshment trolley was rolling up and down the aisle. I lost count of the seconds after that, maybe there was more, maybe that was the end. It was long enough for me to think “Ok this is it, we’re going down” and my brain to replay all the previously stored info about the brace position. We’d already had drama earlier in the flight during take off. It was on of those rare times when plane wasn’t full. During take off large amounts of condensation from the air con system (I think) caused water to be poured on to passengers in unfortunate seats, who screamed, unbuckled and legged it down the aisles to vacant seats, while the stewards and stewardesses urged everyone to please stay seated and keep your seatbelts on during take off.

Turbulence continued for some time after that, though none as severe as the previous drop but eventually in due course some hours later, we landed.

Earlier this week as Bill and I and our 4yr old daughter were driving on the M25, I had the memory of that flight and the realisation that turbulent is the word I would use to describe our lives these last five years. Of course turmoil and turbulent troubles are everywhere for everyone. So much about this world seems rattled to the point of imminent collapse in these times when facing Brexit, climate change, the heated threats of the likes of Trump and Jong-un…and all the chaos and pain, the wars the unending cycle of disruptive events that lead to “entropy and atrophy” as Jaspar Fforde  once described it… but this particular turbulence that I was drawing a parallel to was more about specific circumstances of our lives.

We have been buffeted and shaken and all that we thought was secure has been thrown up in the air as we found ourselves without home and searching for work these last months. But this week has brought about circumstances that have given us a glimmer of hope that just maybe at some point soon we might be coming in to land…. (more on that later)

It’s hard to describe the process that led us to this place. For me there’s a clear moment, a clear line drawn in the sands of time that began this particular season of turbulence, (there have of course been many other turbulent seasons previously and there will be many more to follow- that’s life as they say.)

In my mind the specific moment that ushered in this season, was my fall. Falling from stage 24 weeks pregnant in rural Italy while on tour. I wrote a little about that previously, but not much. Mostly at that time I was in survival mode, trying to focus on getting through, getting the baby born… but I find that I’m ready to speak about those events more fully now. Enough time has passed to allow me to be open about the impact and the unravelling that happened as a result of that event.

So Long Leonard Cohen

For me, Leonard Cohen is one of the all-time great song-writers, his lyrics are tempered and refined to the point that there isn’t a word that is superfluous. He manages to write heart-wrenchingly personal narratives, while being able to combine big themes of human condition, searching and questioning with wry self-deprecating humour and all within the space of a few lines.

There is a Welsh word ‘hiraeth’ that is hard to translate into English correctly, but in essence it is about an aching, longing and nostalgic yearning, some describe it as a ‘searching for home’ and is said to be similar to the Portugese word saudade. I seem to resonate most with music and songs that have something of this hiraeth quality and to me the songs of Leonard Cohen ooze with it.

I can vividly remember the moment when I became a real Cohen convert…

I’d been a fan for some time. I was introduced to his work when I was 17, by my future husband Bill. In fact I owe our getting together in some part to Cohen’s song Winter Lady. Bill sang it on the his old Epiphone guitar (and the rest as they say folks is history!)

I’ve sung Suzanne and Bird On A Wire as part of my live sets for as long as I can recall ever performing, but one day sitting on the sofa in my mid 20’s with a guitar and our Leonard Cohen songbook, the penny completely dropped. These songs weren’t just great songs, these songs were lifelines, they were about everything. Cohen had somehow captured the essence of works like Steinbeck’s East Of Eden, and encapsulated their truth in every line. These were earthy, ironic, humorous, sensual, self -deprecating, political, spiritual, poetic, punchy, portrait laments and observations of humanity. I was utterly compelled. Cohen’s words took me deeper and further into myself and then out into the external world around me. I was changed through my experience of them in a way that only art can do. Leonard Cohen’s songs ultimately left me with hope. They grappled the chaos and the darkness they confronted the “crack in everything” but they didn’t leave it there, as the cracks themselves became the vehicle for the “light to get in.”

As with any moment of revelation, I had to share this new-found truth and ran into the kitchen songbook in hand saying “Bill, these songs are so good.” Bill (unlike me) is never one to over use words and simply said “I know,” with a look of “what planet have you been living on that you’ve only just caught up?”

So it is with sadness and gratitude that I say “So long” Leonard Cohen.

Thank you for the gracious, honest and humorous reflections…

We didn’t want it darker right now but I am going to keep on ringing those bells as long as they can ring.

And we’re trying to pay the rent here but you’ll always be way up there above us in that tower of song.

Now it's closing time. You said you were going to ‘live forever’ and you were right.

Thank you for the music that will dance us to the end of love.

Sincerely R. Taylor-Beales

Why I've helped to create One Day Without Us

9^th/ November…It’s another dark day in 2016.

Fear and dread for the future is echoing through my Face-book timeline and twitter feed as people post their grief and deep concern for friends and families both in America and for the world.

It seems that globally a pendulum has been swung in favour of bigoted, racist, misogynist ideology with Donald Trump as the new US president being the epitome of this.

For me personally I fear many things: I fear the impact of climate change and the governments who dismiss the need for global action to counter this. I fear that human rights will continue to be ignored across the world and I fear the consequences of racism becoming mainstream attitude.

Here in the UK we have witnessed the terrifying rise in hate crimes as supporters of such views have felt that media and political outcomes have validated their words and actions against anyone who they perceive to be “different” from themselves.

If I remain silent on this any of this I will be complicit in it all.

This narrative of fear that is unfolding all around us focuses on what divides us. It fuels hate and creates a sense of powerlessness as we watch on horrified at all that is happening.

I choose not to allow this fear to dictate my response.

5 weeks ago I helped to initiate One Day Without Us in the UK as a way of responding to this hate filled reality with a positive, clear demonstration that the politicians, media, institutions and individuals who are spreading this toxic way of thinking are not doing it in my name.

I became one of the core team organising One Day Without Us so that I could play my own small part in being a solution.

About One Day Without Us: www.1daywithoutus.org

One Day Without Us imagines what the UK would actually be like for a single day without its migrants?

The impact would be disastrous with economy, food supply, health service, education system, transport system and much more being crippled. 

We are calling a National Day Of Action on February 20^th 2017 (also UN day of social justice) as an act of solidarity with migrant and foreign nationals living, working and studying in the UK.

We invite a wide range of action in response to this, for some this will mean a literal absenting themselves from the work place. 

For others it will mean displaying posters in support. Sympathetic employers may close their businesses early. Individuals may wear badges arm-bands, hold party’s celebrations in their communities. 

The message that One Day Without Us communicates is that migrants make a vital contribution to life here in the UK. We celebrate the diversity that they give and bring to British culture and that we reject politics and attitudes of hate and racism. 

We also address the very real fear that many migrants from all backgrounds are currently experiencing, the fear that they will be victimised for even talking with an accent in public. We intend for our day of action to be part of a process that empowers and emboldens the migrant community here in the UK. 

We are non-partisan and invite all who share our vision to become involved in whatever way they can.   

Having lived much of my own life as a migrant, growing up in Australia I understand first hand the issues of relocating and have myself encountered hostility at times for being from another land.

I am heartbroken to hear time and time again from friends who come from different EU countries that they no longer feel welcome here in the UK. Many of them have children who were born here. I am deeply troubled by the fact that so many people are sharing that they are afraid to speak in public in case their accent will lead hostility from people around them.

I cannot accept this.

I think there is much anger, disillusionment and despair at the state of our current times and all of it valid, but we can’t leave it there, we have choose to respond in real ways to work for change.

Today I would like to invite anyone who is looking for ways to help bring about positive change to join us.

Help us to create a movement of people who are not bullied by fear or hate and who are not prepared to settle for any racist, xenophobic policy, speech or action that divides us from the fact that immigration is an important and healthy part of thriving economic and cultural environment to live in. That there is no “other,” we are all humans and our diversity is something to be celebrated.

I'll put Michael Rosen's excellent poem about migration "Safe As Houses" here... he says it well! 

www.1daywithoutus.org

Happy Christmas, New Live Tracks To Download For Free

Hi Everyone,

Here’s a little Christmas blogpost with video link and new live tracks download info!

I want to end this year by saying a huge thanks to you all! I’ve really appreciated all your support over this year, with the album purchases and kind comments and those of you who made it along to the live shows this year! As a tiny token of thanks we’ve added free download tracks of Turning The Day and Restless from our gig at Cardiff Folk Club on the Bandcamp site!

It’s been great getting back into all things music this year with release of Stone’s Throw, Lament Of The Selkie, after my 3 years out with extended injury recovery as well as the birth of our daughter Polly. I thoroughly enjoyed the CD launch gig at Cardiff Folk Club in November. It was a privilege to be joined by such a lovely group of talented musicians and I look forward to continuing to work with them all for various shows in 2016!

Here's a live video Restless and some more pics below...

We have a gig booked in at the beautiful Holy Trinty Church in Nailsea on Saturday 20^th February, with more dates to be announced soon.

Aside from music life is full and chaotic as usual! Polly turned 3 and is starting at Nursery School class in January. She is full of boundless enthusiasm and already enjoying composing mixes and tunes on my garage band app!

Bill has completed another busy year as director of People Around Here Arts Charity, releasing his latest toe tapping Sir Silence and The Hush EP End Of The Pier as well as establishing a new portrait business, Hushland Portraits.

So signing off now and wishing you all a peaceful and happy Christmas season!

Rachel x

Refugees Welcome Here!! Stones Throw Video and The Refugee Crisis in Europe

Its been an emotional few weeks here... personally we said goodbye and laid flowers in grave of a dear friend last Wednesday... A woman who among her many wonderful and generous traits worked with and supported refugees here in Wales...
The refugee crisis here in Europe has been very much on my mind and heart these last 3 years.
I also released my Stone's Throw Video (premiered on Folk Radio UK) last week.
The song and the video explore themes connected with the emotions of being a refugee.
Below is the description I wrote to accompany the video...

Stone’s Throw is the title track from my new album Stone’s Throw, Lament of The Selkie. I’d been exploring the character and persona of Selkie a shape-shifting seal-woman re-imagined from Orkney Folklore, as she struggled to live her life on land away from her natural habitat of the ocean. More and more Selkie’s internal turbulence seemed to echo the real life struggles of people both in the news headlines and that I met personally. These were the stories of refugees and displaced people, far from home with all the loneliness and chaos, grief and loss that comes with enforced migration. In the legends, in order to marry a Selkie woman her sealskin had to be captured while she was in human form and kept hidden from her unless she find it and take the opportunity to return to her home in the sea. The woman of the legends, taken out of her natural environment, longing for home, misunderstood by those around her that did not understand her culture or her grief and who knew nothing of her life before she lived on land became synonymous in my mind with these real time stories of refugees of the last few years. The video was filmed by my artist husband Bill Taylor-Beales and features Isla Horton who achingly portrays a displaced mother separated from home and family. 

I am personally disgusted at the British government's response to this crisis- I'm saddened and sickened to the core that it's reached the awful extremes of innocent children washing up on Europe's beaches and I know that I'm not alone in feeling this way... My daughter turns 3 next week... and I like so many other parents keep thinking... What if it was her?

There will be a national day of action calling for our government to support and allow refugees asylum in Britain on September 12 with protests scheduled all over the UK-
We will be at our local Cardiff one... with banners reading REFUGEES ARE WELCOME HERE!
http://stopwar.org.uk/events/stop-the-war-events-national/12-september-refugees-are-welcome-here-national-day-of-action
Come and join us (or find your local demonstration) to send a message to our government and the world that we care, that we stand in solidarity with our fellow humans and citizens of earth...

I'll leave with a link to some other practical ways folks can help if they want to make a difference to this situation... http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/5-practical-ways-you-can-help-refugees-trying-to-find-safety-in-europe-10482902.html

If you have children at school who would also like to reach out to children who are refugees please consider becoming involved in The Paddington Project- an initiative set up by my friend Joy French encouraging children to send teddy bears with their own written personal messages of love and support to be distributed among refugee children and families... link here
https://www.facebook.com/groups/713462355464223/?fref=ts