Memoirs of the Brightside of the Moon

by Ginger Gilmour

  On 24 October 1985, I went into labor in the late evening. And on the 25th, Matthew Jon Gilmour came into the world. We had placed a mattress on the floor at the bottom of our bed. He came quickly. And the vowels were incredible! Gwen did not have to ask me, "Are you in pain? Are you having contractions?" For when I was having them, I would sound either the "Ah" or the "Oh." She would know the length and the frequency. AND she would know if I was not in control for another vowel would appear, "EEEEE." I would go into shallow breathing. It was important to breathe into my womb with an open "Ah" for it kept the passageway open for the baby to come easier. An "EEEE" meant I was tense. Whenever this happened, Gwen would sound the vowels from a peaceful place to re-align me. It was amazing! Such group work.

  However, all was not to finish as we had dreamt. Matthew slid onto the mattress radiant as a bright light. I was on all fours. He was still on the umbilical cord so there was no need for him to breathe yet. But Gwen panicked and gave him oxygen before she dealt with the cord. She wanted to be sure that he was breathing. She shared a story with me after Matthew was ok. Apparently, she had lost her last delivery at that point when the baby was still attached to the cord. I hope Matthew's delivery changed all that for her.

  I know she played it safe, out of care. But poor Matthew screamed and whimpered for nearly three hours. I held him and spoke to him softly that all would be well. We love you deeply. I know it burns. I am truly sorry. Eventually he fed on my breast and slept for ages. We all slept together David, the baby and I. We slept together for months as we had with our other babies. I stayed at home for nearly a month since I had come to realize that this was as important for me as for the baby. I wanted us to bond together before entering the outside world. No loud noise for us this time and no going out into the shops until we were ready.

  Each pregnancy was different and I learned so much, especially about myself. I often wondered why it was that when one became more a master in creating sacred moments in childbirth that one could no longer go on having babies. Nevertheless, this too was to change for the opportunity arose several times to work with couples throughout their pregnancy in the years to follow. It was special to work with the Dad and Mom consciously. They would lie together. The father would place his hand onto her tummy and together they would send love to their wee one. Many have given me the chance to serve in this way so I can pass on my knowledge. Christa and Paul, who we knew from Greece were the first. I was with them all the way through the birth of Selena in the Rhodes hospital and after. David and Diana in San Francisco were the next couple to share this sacred moment. They were in Mrs. Tweedie's group and we would meet regularly when they were over. I feel honored to have been allowed to enter and be so close with them during the sacred moment when their child entered the world.

  The day came to decide upon a name for the baby. David and I always had a list of names that we agreed upon, but Alice had it in her mind that Matthew had to be a John. Olivia Harrison called one day and Alice answered. David was not home, and Olivia respected the need for quiet time for mom and baby. So she asked Alice what we had chosen to name our baby. Alice said, "John." A while later, the Harrison's sent us a gift to honor his birth with an engraved silver egg cup and spoon. It said, John Gilmour. OOPS. Alice was not too happy when we said he was to be named Matthew. She was so sad that we came up with a solution. We called him Matthew Jon Gilmour. They call him Matt now. They are all close and he towers over them being 6ft 3" tall. He loves putting his elbow gleefully on their shoulders with a smirk.

  Many months had passed, when Mrs. Tweedie offered to give Matthew a Sufi Baby Blessing. It was rare for her to do this. I felt it was a gift from Heaven for him to have her blessing. Many people came and crowded into her small living room. They brought an abundance of sweets and flowers. The girls and Annie stood around in a circle as Mrs. Tweedie did the ceremony. As I recall Matthew cried for a bit, then went quiet. I suppose the energy was stronger than what he was used to. There was something special about him because everywhere we went people would stop to gaze at him. If he was in the pram, time and time again people would walk pass and return to look. I have always felt that he has a destiny of which would bring great responsibility.

  CHAPTER 56

  AFFAIR OF THE HEART

  1ST EXHIBITION LONDON

  1986

  We had finally moved into Monksbridge and I was in a highly creative painting cycle upstairs in our little den, which connected to our ensuite bathroom and bedroom. Everywhere I had large canvases leaning against the bookshelves, the fireplace, the desk, the window, the floor. I would go from one to the other as the impulse came to me. Plus, it was convenient to paint in there for the girls could be splashing in our bath getting ready for bed while I would draw or paint in the connecting room.

  I remember once Sara, who was still crawling, went into that room while I was tending to Alice and Clare. Bath time was noisy and rather wet sometimes, but fun. Anyway, Sara was a bit quiet, which was her nature, when I noticed she was gone. I thought I had better check on her so I followed the sound of her gurgles. There she was sitting on top of one of my oil paintings, which was on the floor. Yikkees! I had been working on it earlier so the oil paint was still wet, I might add. So back into the bath she went. I had my task cut out for me, covering up her fingerprints and picking out the hairs because one of our cats decided to join her in the fun. Dear, Dear, the life of a mother who is an artist.

  David was working downstairs in our lower sitting room most days writing lyrics for his next album, Momentary Lapse of Reason with his co-writer. One afternoon, I returned home very excited. I had news of my first exhibition offer at Themes & Variations in Nottinghill Gate, London. Julianna, a truly wonderful friend from Lindos, was the innovative and creative owner. Her shop supported the artistry of many established and beginning artists. That afternoon, we had met for lunch, to share stories about our growing children and creativity. I had one of my paintings with me that I just collected from the framers. She loved it and suggested that I have my first exhibition at her gallery. Gosh! That was an unexpected gift from the Universe.

  David's co-writer was curious as to what I might exhibit, as he didn't know that I painted. I offered that he could come upstairs later when he had a break to see what I was working on. After dinner, he climbed the stairs up to the den to have a look. Upon entering, he began to get very emotional and nothing but critical words came forth from his mouth as he swirled around from one painting to another. I was rather taken back with the force of his descriptions. "That one is like cats piss." It was a woman with raised hands covered in white light rays on a yellow ochre background. "And that one you should be cut up with a knife!" It was a man in a lovers embrace with a woman floating in the water. My eyes blinked in disbelief as the shock penetrated my heart.

  I had to sit down on our daybed while he continued to assault my artwork. What happened next was equally surprising. He sat next to me and said, "Let me out of here!" Again, I looked at him in disbelief. "Excuse me, but the door is not locked. You are free to leave at any moment as free as you were when you entered." He stood up to leave but then sat down again. I asked, "Why did you say all those things? Why are you so upset?"He looked at me through his anxiety and said, "You don't really want to know!"I waited. He continued to tell me of his broken relationship. Then he left me stunned sitting on the bed when he scurried out of the room like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I had to get up early for the children the next day. Befuddled, I had a bath and went to bed. In the morning, I always walked from our bedroom quietly through the connecting bathroom through the den so as not to wake David. And there He was asleep on the daybed amongst the paintings. Well, if that wasn't instant karma. Poor dear.

  When I returned from the school run, he was sitting rather forlorn at our kitchen table reading Mrs. Tweedie's book The Daughters of Fire. He must have brought it down from the den. He looked at me from his cup of coffee and sheepishly sai
d, "Ginger, I am so sorry for my behavior last night. Can you forgive me? Also, may I borrow your book, by Mrs. Tweedie? I am lost and need guidance." That afternoon I had my weekly class with Cecil Collins in life drawing. I must have looked rather low, as he approached me and asked if I was all right. I told him the story of the night before. He listened then said to me, "When is your exhibition? For if you are getting such reactions, your work is touching Hearts with the Truth. I with Elizabeth will come to support you." Needless to say, I was honored by his words and to think that both of them would be coming was extraordinary.

  I continued to finish my paintings with anticipation of how well received they will be. I decided to call it An Affair of the Heart and it certainly was turning out to be that way. I had one painting, which was of a girl releasing a dove to the light from her hands in reds, pinks, yellows and whites. It was finished and it was resting on the mantelpiece in the den. One day I walked into the room to find Alice looking at it sitting on the floor. She looked up at me, her blue eyes shining like pools of crystal water, "Mommy, does an exhibition mean that your pictures will be going away?" I sat on the floor next to her sitting her onto my lap. I said, "Alice, Your Daddy and I and all your family love you so, but not all people in the world are as fortunate. God gave your mommy a special gift and that was to be able to paint his Love for all his children. These paintings are for them. They are to give them Love. So I have to let them go. If I don't, my gift may be taken away and given to someone else for it would be selfish to keep them all. "She cried and pointed up to the Child and the Dove , "Will that painting have to go? I really love it." Apparently, she came after school each day and sat in the room looking at it. Holding her close, I said, "Maybe, but if it does, I can paint another one for you." The day arrived and I had over 32 pieces of artwork, including life drawings from Cecil Classes. The gallery was full and we had gentle music playing all afternoon. As each person came, my heart got fuller and fuller, especially when Cecil and Elizabeth arrived. They really came! It is amazing how much it affected me to be together with everyone. I found that as each entered I just loved them all.

  Such an affirmation of heart filled the room. The art, the people and the music were One. I really wanted to keep the watercolor of the Resurrection for me, but I decided instead to put a red dot on the Child and the Dove, for Alice. As it turned out the Resurrection didn't sell. I got to have it I guess for my gesture of kindness for my girl. The story had a happy ending for Alice was very happy when she realized that the red dot on Child and the Dove meant it was hers.

  CHAPTER 57

  MOMENTARY LAPSE OF REASON

  1985-1989

  Day after day, the sting got stronger. Accusations came from all directions. The battle for the name went on and on. I remember the moment David further closed his heart, and rage took its place. He tried to contain it, isolating me from the process. However, the Wall of protection and readiness for battle came between us as well. I remember thinking, if this is what it takes then go for it! His integrity, his rights, his principles were at stake. I silently stood beside him before the wall. A battle cry went out. "Pink Floyd" is ALIVE! His mind left Gilmourland, as his focus changed, directed toward the attacks. He was determined not to lose. Nick joined him and so did Rick.

  They questioned, "Can we do it?"The nerves were high. The gauntlet, mainly held by David, as the creation of the next album developed. The fire inside had grown dim, but rose again from his anger within. In a creative process, David was by his nature a person who sought to work together with everyone involved. Even to compromise beyond being visible to get the album done. However, if injured and walked over he stands immovably stubborn. In this instance, the pain was intense and I watched each of the band members rage in theirs. David hurt, Nick hurt, Roger hurt, Rick was no longer there and Steve held the reins tightly. The press had a field day as their fans teetered in their opinions. I watched and continued to hold the routine at home with the kids. My heart left alone in the task. His alienation, greeted with Love and support, as I knew this was bigger than we were. He stood for equality, respect and justice. The voice of Justice would soon be heard and clear the way. Days in court pursued them - Solicitors after Solicitors - In the end they won. It did not tear down the inner wall because there was more to carry, as we went into our future. Roger screamed, "They are a spent force!" "No way!" they shouted to the world. Determined, they went forth holding the vision.

  The Pink Floyd name was theirs. However, despite winning the lawsuit, the record company still stood on pins and needles. "Which one's Pink?"In that climate, finding a promoter that would take a risk was a challenge. Was Pink Floyd just a shadow of what went before? Roger's voice went far heralding his bitter attacks that he was the one, "They won't do it!"That was just the thing needed to strengthen David and Nick's resolve. They found one in Canada.

  I stood within this force on high alert and concerned. Little did I know that David had mortgaged our home and Nick his Ferrari to finance the venture. I sensed something extra that was worrying in my heart within the tension. We, our family security, were on the tightrope as well. Millions were needed. I wish he had shared it with me. He would have known how much I supported him all the way. No wonder David grew more withdrawn from me. Our eyes stopped meeting. I kept looking. He was holding more than tension. He was holding a secret.

  Then one day Steve O'Rourke took me out for dinner, alone, in our little quaint restaurant down the road. From behind his glasses, his jaw terse, he delivered the message that the band would have to do another tax exile. I stared through him, as I remembered David's words after the last one, "Never again." However, Again had just arrived and Steve was instructed to tell me. I wondered to myself, "Would you also be instructed to tell me if David wanted a divorce?" I felt something was changing between us. Perhaps I was now the writing on the wall? All I could say was "Oh, When?"My heart ached in quiet desperation. Was I becoming more English? I continued yearning for our love to return. Each night as I held the children in my arms, tears would often escape revealing the truth of my inner dilemma. The emotion arose within me in the night. "Help,"I pleaded with the God above. I went and stayed for a few days with a girlfriend, Mona Wirtz. Often I sought refuge in our friendship and I slept on her living room couch. Occasionally my eyes would open to the smell of a hot cup of Chamomile tea next to my bed. In my delirium, I saw that if the tension did not go away, if I could not release what had gathered, I was heading for illness big time. I returned home determined to find a way.

  Then God sent me a truly wonderful elderwoman who I believe was an angel. Her name was Lily Cornford. A friend had given me her number and told me that I should go to see her. She had the gift to heal one's heart. She lived in Willesden in a basement flat where she had a clinic and on Saturdays gave free treatments for children. As I entered, a passageway led to the living room, which was the waiting room. People and children were waiting their turn to see her. There were two modest rooms to the side formerly used as bedrooms. In one of the rooms, she was waiting for me in the dim light, sitting next to a narrow cushioned table in the center of the room. A spare chair was near her. As I approached, her gentle voice guided me and with a gesture of her hand said, "Sit child. Why have you come?"The tranquility and love in the room released my pressure valve. Tears rushed down my face. She handed me a tissue and waited until I calmed down.

  Lily was like my Nan, gray haired, bonnie and full of heart. Her eyes filled me with loving kindness from the start. I told her my story. She listened for what seemed an eternity as my life unraveled before her. Leaning on the edge of the table, she asked, "What drugs have you taken, dear?"I replied proudly, "Lily, I haven't taken any in over twelve years! Not even an aspirin."Well, dear, you still have them in your aura. But don't worry, you have come to the right place!" Tapping on the table, she said, "Come dear, lie down."I came to know and practice her form of therapy years later. It works with the energy of Love and Color. Its main intention was to
guide the person to find his or her own healer within. During my treatment, I traveled to such a place of inner calm that a new journey of health began. It was to be the first of many, which aided in the feeling of being loved, including the children.

  Back in Gilmourland, preparations continued forward to travel again after our summer in Lindos. We were to start in Toronto, Canada. The band would be rehearsing for four weeks in a bonded warehouse at Lester Pearson International Airport. They had created a huge spectacle A la-Floyd, but a lot had changed technically since they last had been on the road. Rehearsals were imperative. Timing was imperative. Instead of a handful of technicians, there were 200. I lost track of all their names as they came and went. Faces would begin to be familiar and then disappear.

  There were three separate stages that required maneuvering across continents in the year to come. The technical side was more complicated than ever before. The mixing area looked like a NASA base control. Before, when I sat there it was so much tinier. Now, I felt as if I was in a space ship listening to "Ground Control." In addition, the loading of the trucks had become a science. What a task it was to load and unload the trucks, it was larger than the Animals Tour! Trucks to take away. Trucks to unload in relay.

  I remember how small our little ones were when they stood before the eighty-foot high stage in the echo of the warehouse. Their little blonde heads leaning backwards as they looked for their Dad. It was HUGE! A metal cage one hundred and sixty feet long and ninety-feet deep was created almost the size of a Boeing 727. The warehouse was a perfect place to rehearse for the tour. It was private, secure with lots of space to play and build.