Category Archives: On Love

Another Time, Another Place


Another time, another place

What could have, would have, been?

The ghost of unfulfillment

A parallel world’s dream

The hinge that the tide turns on

A moment lost in time

Opportunities and choices

That might have made you mine

Turning points and pathways

A whisper of regret

But in another lifetime

We might have never met

(c)2016 Sara Litchfield

Love Does Not Need Pockets


I’ve been absent… again! Despite promises made to myself, resolutions have been falling by the wayside like summer rain… But I’ve been consumed by life and work, and I’m working on something important, something challenging and life-changing, and incidentally longer than War & Peace. A beautiful line in that work stopped me in my tracks yesterday: ‘Love, though, does not need pockets.’ It was in the context of a discussion on the hunt for happiness and meaning, which so resonated with the philosophy here of making the right mark on the wall of the world that it sparked the poet within. So this is just a wee call out from the darkness to let you know that I’m still here, and soon I’ll be back in force. But here’s the piece of poetry in the meantime…


Love does not need pockets

A man of wisdom said

When you’re in your burial shroud

You may think you are dead

But what is it you’ve left behind?

Have you made a mark?

Your holidays and fancy cars

They were just a lark

But love you gave and love you sowed

That won’t ever stale

And love you received in return

Goes with you through the veil

(c) 2016 Sara Litchfield

An Open Letter To A Future Me


Friends and neighbours, I’ve been absent. I’ve been around, about and everywhere, and I have been writing. There are plenty exciting project things in the pipeline. We’ve a book launch tomorrow for a start! But I’ve not been here. And I’ve probably not been round yours so much lately either. I’m sorry. But I’m going to change that. I’m coming back. I’m going to be more present. Recently, the offline world has all been very distracting. I’ll tell you all about it later. Madness on the mountain; exhilaration on the ice; rides in cars and boats and planes. And all sorts of interesting, all-consuming work in the spaces in between.

What to share with you after so long? Perhaps just a piece of me. My writers’ group challenge this week was to write an open letter to yourself – yourself ten years hence. A step through the looking glass…


Dear Me,

I hope you have not changed. I hope you still have no regrets. I hope you still carry a big heart and wear a big smile. I hope that whatever hurt has come your way, you have learnt from it, laughed at it, and sent it on its way.

Perhaps a letter at your end would warn me against life’s foes. Perhaps you would look back at my lost battles, my dips and trenches, my grazed knees, and shake your head. Perhaps you would say, ‘You shouldn’t get so attached.’

But let me let you know – I am happy. I am full. I am boundless.

And so you cannot say to me, ‘Do not get attached.’

That is who I am. That is what I do.

I fall everyday. For places, people, things. For moments. For memories. For little pockets of wonder in the jacket of life.

I tether myself to them with an open cord – I open my heart wide. I cast a net to bring beauty and brilliance to my side and I drown in it with delight.

I cannot do ‘no stings attached’ – I can only make pretend. I am a ball of twine. But I like to think the good kind. I don’t tie people into knots; I wrap myself up and present myself to them with a bow. I am the string on a helium balloon, inviting them to fly with me.

I love people. I can fall for someone in a week, make fast friendships in a weekend. People leave marks on my soul. I can tell a stranger my hopes and dreams. My innermost everything is an open book. I crave connection, affection, to read the story of someone’s life and invite them to be a highlight in my own. It makes my story that much richer, that much more of an adventure. I will love you if you let me.

I hope you have not changed. I hope you still have no regrets. I hope you still carry a big heart and wear a big smile. I hope that whatever hurt has come your way, you have learnt from it, laughed at it, and sent it on its way.




What would you say to yourself ten years hence, or ten years ago? Everything you do today is the gift of a memory given to a future you. Make it a good gift. 

Dropkicked Heart – A Song


Dropkicked heart

You’ll be okay

What’s a war wound anyway?

You’ve had ’em before

And you’ll have ’em again

Dropkicked heart

 You know you’ll mend

Dropkicked heart

Who can say

Why it is they walk away?

You know, you know

They’ll come and go

Dropkicked heart

It’s how you’ll grow

Dropkicked heart

Don’t you cry

A waste of time to wonder why

Climb and climb

And rise above

Dropkicked heart

You’ll find true love

Many times before you’re done

Many times before you’re done

If you walk with coat cast off

You’ll find the ones who’ll be enough

To keep you laughing everyday

You’ll cry out when they’re off away

But keep on trying

Keep on flying

Keep on going

Keep on flowing

One day you’ll be scooped right up

And treasured like a precious cargo

They will go as far as you’ll go

Help you heal forever and oh

Dropkicked heart

You’ll keep the scars

But they’ll be stories

They’ll be ours

I Believe In Sunshine – A Song

The ranch

I believe in sunshine

I don’t believe in rain

I don’t believe that beating hearts

Deserve to live in pain


I believe in fields of green

And flowers and starlight’s thrill

I believe in breaking free

To live and not to kill


And we’ll go up and up and over

We’ll make it through and through


I believe if we just try

This could be something new


I believe that hand-in-hand

Who knows what we might do

I believe that silence can

Be the opposite of true


I believe in crystal skies

In laughter’s tears not blue

I believe that one fine night

I’ll find myself with you


And we’ll go up and up and over

We’ll make it through and through


I believe that hand-in-hand

Who knows what we might do


I believe the words come

When least we can expect

I don’t believe that it’s all right

To fail to be direct


I believe that if we say

Exactly what we mean

Then we can spread our wings

And we can live the dream


And we’ll go up and up and over

We’ll make it through and through


I believe that word-by-word

I’ll fall in love with you


And we’ll go up and up and over

We’ll make it through and through


I believe that word-by-word

I’ll fall in love with you

(c) 2015 Sara Litchfield

1000 Voices For Compassion: A Stranger Held Me In The Street


Image Credit:

Today is a special day. Over one thousand bloggers all over the world are raising their voices in chorus on the subject of compassion, under the label #1000Speak. They hope to inspire readers to think about it, to delve into its many facets, to ponder its meaning and makeup… But, above all, to show it. To practise as well as preach.

Over the last month of build-up, I’ve been amazed reading the compassionate content that’s ensued since the idea seeded, meeting like-minded people brought together by this common cause – championing something good in this world that is sometimes so cruel.

Then, last week, I fell out the loop a little. I moved country, again. Found a temporary home, again. I picked up old threads and more than one G&T and tried not to crash and burn in the process of coming back to a place where circumstances used to be so different, trying to block all the punches that unwelcome changes can hail on your heart. I also had some fun.

I am not embarrassed to admit that I feel things deeply. And, while we often go around trying to present our best faces to the world, sometimes we can only survive by being brutally honest, with others and with ourselves. In the circles I’ve become a part of since I started my writerly journey to authordom (fame and fortune to follow), I’ve seen people bare their souls on screen more often than I can count, not least through #1000Speak, and it is a good thing. A powerful thing.

Think about the painful things that have happened to you. Everybody has them, to whatever degree. For better or worse, these experiences, along with the good, make us who we are.

Have you ever seen someone crying in the street? Have you averted your gaze, thinking they’d rather not be bothered? Have you pitied, or even scorned? Have you really seen them, this other person who has a life just as you have a life? And have you wondered what it is they’re going through that it would evoke such a public display of their sorrow? Have you wondered out of voyeurism or from the heart? Have you stopped, or just stared and walked on, caught up in your own problems?

Reaching out to someone may be rebuffed; it certainly may not help with the actual issue. But it may make that someone realise that things might just be okay.

Compassion is the moment a stranger holds you in the street while you cry and tells you everything is going to be all right. Just living in a world where a complete unknown would interrupt their natural absorption in their own life and the lives of their nearest and dearest to reach out an unsolicited but comforting hand makes me hopeful, despite all the horrible, ugly things that can happen around us.

Use your experience of pain to make you more sympathetic to others and what they might be going through, whether they show their heart on their sleeve or not. When the same treatment – empathy, kindness, comfort – is accorded to you, you realise how much it counts. Humankind has capacity for great evil, but it also has limitless capacity for compassion. Show some compassion in your everyday life: to yourself, to your friends, to your colleagues, to a stranger on the street. And everything will be all right.


In the run up to publishing this post, amongst the scores of compassionate content starting to hit the webs, I clicked on Dani’s story first because I caught sight of the title. Would you like to read the other side? Would you ever hug a total stranger and mean it?

It’s not too late to get involved.

To join the group and meet the movement, go here: 1000 Voices for Compassion Facebook Group

To sing and dance together on Twitter, tweet #1000Speak.

#1000Speak - Listen

Don’t Get Too Comfortable


(c) 2014 NKW-Illustration. All rights reserved.

Life happens and, unfortunately, it’s not all springtime and rainbows. There are storms. The wind can be taken out of your sails, the bunny slippers stolen from your feet. Just when you think you couldn’t be happier, just when you think you’re safe.

But not being in a perpetual state of comfort is not a bad thing. Sometimes, we need to be reminded that life has rough edges and sharp corners, and it can’t always be controlled. This should engender a healthy respect for life; it should foster a feeling that nothing and no one should be taken for granted.

While I obviously never wish anyone to come to harm, I’m glad I don’t live a charmed life. I wouldn’t have anything to write about. On which note, I need to let you know that the countdown is almost over! Scarf-gate has been resolved. The battle is won and my first book, The Night Butterflies, is forthcoming!


I stopped writing there last night. Usually, I write a post all in one go and hit publish. But there was something I wanted to say, and I couldn’t quite say it. Then I read this post this morning by Gunmetal Geisha, You Probably Think This Post Is About You. Needless to say, I did. The messages in it are exactly what I wanted to share.

Don’t get too comfortable – because all your comfort can come to an end in a heartbeat. But enjoy the discomfort of uncertainty. Embrace every minute, every hour. Enjoy. Laugh. Love. I’d rather live an uncomfortable life – one of highs and lows, triumphs and defeats – than one lived in a single, steady trough, no dips, no peaks.

The Geisha says, ‘I’d like to think people are subject to the same amount of rejecting and rejection. But there are those who proclaim they’ve never been rejected. Good for them, I say, until it turns out they are the same people who say they don’t know what it feels like to be in love. Here’s what it feels like:  Opening your chest like a coat and letting in sunlight.  Naturally, you’re then open for the cold elements and letdown too. So it makes sense for a person all bundled in a safe, zipped-up chest not to feel either rejection or being in love. For myself, I choose to walk coatless.’

And so do I. As I ended up commenting: When someone is the sunshine, when it’s they who makes your day, every day, and suddenly the thing they want to change about their life is seeing You every day – that hurts. It makes a hole. It feels horrible and bitter and, while you’re still utterly in love, utterly immersed in someone else, their rejection of you makes you feel less and less in love with yourself, makes you feel less, full-stop. If the person you placed at the centre of your universe can’t love you, how will you find love?

But I’d rather walk through this world with coat cast off and feel like this right now than never know love in the first place. I’d rather be uncomfortable and cold sometimes – then know what it feels like to be warm again.

Do you walk through this world coatless? If you don’t, try unbuttoning it. There is nothing like the feeling of warmth on your skin, of love in your heart. 

Without The Sun

broken boat

How can I be warm again

Without the sun?

Its playful light

Chasing away shadows

How can I be free again

Without the key?

Unlocking life’s joy

Securing its sorrows

Where will I go now

Without a compass?

No reason for direction

No seal upon a home

Where will I set sail

Without a rudder?

I’m nothing and I’ve nowhere

Till my heart’s returned to me

(c) 2014 Sara Litchfield

The Wonder Of Wedding

1527140_10101012401072300_6781860170984257039_nLove is patient, love is kind…

Apologies for my absence, friends and neighbours. I’ve heard tell that the last month has flown by as though only a fortnight – it certainly has for me – and that must stand my excuse.

So much has happened in that time, including an other-worldly amount of transit, which I won’t go into, for fear of frightening you with the violence of my language.

Suffice to say, I’ve been around the world, it feels ten times over. I visited Singapore & went home to England, trekked up to Scotland, over to Wales, and even hopped across to Italy – all to bask in family, friendship and catchups – I’d not been back that way in two years.

But the highlight – that was a wedding. Today, back on kiwi soil, I’d like to tell you a love story.

You may remember, in the michaelmas of 2004, I went up to Cambridge to read theology. There I met a crowd of A-Staircase folk in my fresher’s term with whom I became fast friends. One wee group of us became referred to in and amongst ourselves as the bunnies.

Two of these bunnies, both studying history, both musically talented, both the most loyal and lovely of people, fell in love. There was laughter, joy, tea and cake (gatherings galore in Juliet’s room), and, of course, as life often holds, some tears (I once dropped Jonny’s birthday cake in the courtyard and cried). But, together, we flourished.

There was nothing quite like coming back together ten years on, convening where it all began and heading to the chapel to see these two bunnies take their vows.

Vows are a solemn affair, but life is full of lightness, and that was the overriding emphasis I took from the day. The world can be cruel, but it is worthwhile. Life can be spiteful, but it can be beautiful. It’s proven when two worthy people find their soul mate in each other and discover the happiness inherent in their togetherness.

I am not religious, but coming together to celebrate faith, hope and love for my friends and between my friends was certainly an experience to lift the spirit. I hope everyone experiences this kind of wonder.

Perhaps you may find this a strange post for me to write right now when I tell you my own love may be lost; when I tell you my days coming back are a little dark and lonely at the moment; that sometimes I feel as though everything’s a bit hopeless, especially when I see the news.

But I have been in the presence of energy, light and liveliness. I’ve held delight, loved it, appreciated it, not taken it for granted for one moment. Life one day will be wholly good again and I have no regrets.

I have seen love; I have known it. It is better to have loved and lost than not have loved at all, don’t you agree? At the same time, I’m happy to dance for those whose love everlasts. The important thing is that there is love in the world – it’s a wonder the way we can come together. In defiance of all the bad.

Jonny & Juliet – thank you for the inspiration your love and union brings. Thank you for making me dance with joy. May your dance last forever.

There Is Another World, My Love

Something a little different today. I wrote a poem for a friend and I’d like to share it. He’s losing his soul mate to cancer and I wish there were something, anything that could be done. My heart is full. It goes out to them and everyone who has been through or is going through the same heartache of losing the one you love.

543367_10100428965122620_1396549994_nFor Robert & Eileen

There is another world, my love

A world that’s free of pain

Hold me in your heart, my dear

It’s where we’ll meet again

Life is cruel you see, my sweet

Who knows it more than we?

But hold my hand, my darling one

In no time you’ll be free

I’ll follow you, my soul’s delight

Don’t ever think I’ll fail

Trust that thought, my dearest heart

I’m not the sort to bail

There is another world, my love

A world that’s free of pain

Hold me in your heart, my dear

It’s where we’ll meet again

Sara Litchfield © 2014 All rights reserved.