Are you true to yourself?

'Truth has to be discovered now, from moment to moment.
It is always fresh, always new, always there for the still,
innocent mind that has experienced life without needing to
hold on to what has gone' (Barry Long (1983) Knowing Yourself)


No task attached to this one, my friends, except this:

Know your truth,

find it afresh everyday

- and -

above all,

live it!

TASK: WRITE A POSITIVE PRAYER

Using you own words, write a prayer that states firmly and powerfully that you are a fully endowed creative being whose possibilities for growth and accomplishment are unlimited.

The Vein of Gold (page 238) includes an example of a prayer and more background.

This task comes in three parts. DO NOT POST YOUR PRAYER YET. Next week we will hold an art session and illuminate/illustrate the work (gold pens, calligraphy, staining with tea...) and then post the gilted results.

In the mean time creative souls:

Invent your world. Surround yourself with people, colour, sounds and work that nourish you. (Sark)

A Task! Will you join me?

Here's a simple task - it's something that I've been intending to do for a while. And that is to write my morning pages. For a few days at least.

It's that time of year when most of us feel weighed down by winter. And although the brighter weather we've experienced recently helps, I still feel the need to vent onto those familiar pages once again. Just allowing myself to express freely and shed the burdens imposed by darker days will work wonders, I know. So will you join me, and venture out of your hibernation by emerging onto our original 'Artist's Way' path?

Unless of course, you have been virtuously keeping your morning pages all this time!!! Unlike me :))

Hands....

Ok, I cheated. This isn't a picture of my hand so much as one of my bears, Gabriel. But that's the point really.... my hands are always there, in the background, being a prop to the rest of my life. I'm communicating with you right now by using my hands (obviously!), but I'd never have thought about it if it weren't for this task.

My poor hands have needles stuck in them on frequent occasions. They are exposed to the worst of the wintry weather, since I often forget my gloves. Nails break from pulling staples out and paper cuts are endured at work (ouch!). When I'm nervous I bite the skin around my nails. And they are in and out of water all day long, starting with a morning wash, to the washing up, to giving Katie a bath.... no wonder they are in need of TLC!

So now I'm feeling guilty. My poor hands. Taken for granted and deserving of much more respect.

I'm off to rub some cream into them and paint my nails red.... :))

100 Things I Love....

In no particular order :)

Sunshine, rain, rainbows, friends, family, good food, chocolate, wine, the internet, reading, creating, Star Trek, fur, crystals, quietness, tarot, graveyards, talking to strangers, mysteries, my own space, stars, clouds, feeling happy, making others happy, Honda Civics, the Lake District, holidays, Saturday mornings, pay day, green tea, red bush with vanilla, dreams, snow, our fish, collectors fairs & car boot sales, watching Katie grow, security, adventure, impulsiveness, down-to-earth people, black, red, putting the world to rights, the ocean..... and many more!

100 Things I Love...

The smell of nutmeg and cinnamon, cardamom pods.
I love the laughter of children and sweet baby bods.
Chocolate and wine and soft candlelight
The crisp smell of ironing, a full moon at night.
Pink! I love pink! Anything pink,
from clothes, shoes or gemstones, to bubbles to drink.
I love Tarot and angels, crystals and spells.
The meaningless jokes my youngest one tells.

The first morning brew, the end of the day
I love sunshine and gardens and let’s-pretend-play.
I love Wales and Sweden, the sound of wind blow
Hot chocolate and firesides and metres of snow.
Writing and reading, I love cinnamon cake
Ikea and painting, I love to create.
Singing and dancing, the smell of the dawn
All the hundreds of pictures my children have drawn.

Lime marmalade, daisies and trips to the sea
Aberystwyth harbour and pancakes for tea.
My husband’s warm neck where I bury my nose.
Meeting on Thursdays for coffee at Jo’s.
PG Woodhouse and skating
I love to stand on my head.
Degas’s dancers and lie-ins in bed -
with hot buttered toast and tea that is hotter
But above all of this I love Harry Potter!

TASK: 100 Things You Love

List 100 things you love...

...in no particular order, but be specific, be free, be honest and be your beautiful selves.

I love clouds that look like things, small moments of magic lost in everyday, Amelie, sitting with friends and talking until 4am, bubbles in the bath, bubbles in the air, smooth stones, amethyst crystals caressed smooth, my babies, my mum, touching fingertips, sun dried tomatoes, melting milk chocolate, Greek Islands, warm summer breezes, mountain air, the sea, the poems of ee cummins (who'd have guessed?), skipping, my toes curling into softest sand, the secret spot in the field at Hordern Farm, the first fall of snow, the cell in the Savage tower, Freddie's brilliant brain, Eva's latest flower canvas, Sara B's fish in all mediums, dancing and dancing and dancing some more, writing, crisp new sheets on the bed, plain white paper, Pilot v5 pens, the smell of coffee, the memory of fairies at the bottom of Nanny Jackson's garden...

...and although I said 100 that's probably enough on the blog. I'll confine the rest to page, just for the fun of it and to give me a certain lift.

More on hands...

...and on a more lighthearted note - this is what hands are all about, is it not? Getting dirty and finding beauty and wonder in even the tiniest of shells! :)

My hands...

My hands are letting me down right now.

Our hands help us get up in the morning, by pushing us out of bed, by making that first cup of tea, by splashing cold water on sleepy eyes.

Our hands feed us and clothe us and do much of our work.

Our hands help us play, to create to enjoy...

But my hands are tired. They are fatigued, like the rest of my body, and they don't want to help me out of bed in the morning, they don't want to work and they don't want to play.

But there's something else about hands. And that is touch.

Our hands can reach out and touch those we love. And they can rest on that loved one and draw the energy of life through that simple touch. And even my hands can still rest on my child's head or my husband's arm and fulfil that most fundamental of human needs - to be touched.

Viva ee cummings

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, you eyes have their silence;
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries;
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

-- ee cummings

from the collection Viva 1931

TASK: Hand stands

Hands touch, heal and hurt; hands reveal, tell the stories of our lives; old hands, young hands, workers hands, idle hands... look and think about hands... post a picture of your own hand, let it tell its own story, be as imaginative as you like with the background, throw shadow puppets, gesture as the mood suits, or simply present an open palm, and write as inspired.

Mr Burns the Dragon by Freddie Thomas Smythe (age 8)

Freddie's firebreathing dragon was created from sticks, bark, moss and feathers, and includes a heart-shaped piece of broken pottery that formed the head, all of which were collected from the winter wonderland that was Buxton Park that day. Freddie had to wait three days for all the woody matter to dry out so he could create it and as soon as he had- it upped and flew away - magical.

Snow Flake the Reindeer by Eva Mae Smythe (age 6)

Eva's reindeer was created from sticks, twigs and leaves collected from the park in Buxton after a glorious winter walk; with the addition of silver-paper snow made from the wrappers of chocolate snowballs eaten in the car on the way home. It all added to the fun.

TASK: Nature's art from a child's heart

We are told Christmas is a time for so many things -

for forgiveness, for laughter, for peace ever after.

It is a time for eating, drinking and being merry.

And it is a time for family

...and especially for children.

And in this mad world that never stops long enough for us to get off and pause for breath, we rarely get a chance to spend enough time with our children (or other people's) to remember what the world looks like through the child's eyes.

So this Christmas task is to see the world through the eyes of a child and make a picture out of it. For this task you will need nothing more than a handful of youngsters if you can find them, one if that is all there happens to be around, and a bit of the beautiful and bountiful outdoors.

Take said child(ren) into the wonderous natural world - a beach, a park, a wood, anywhere you can get messy and find a supply of suitable raw materials - where the imagination can work its magic... and create a picture.

You may wish to start by collecting enough sticks to make a picture frame. You may wish to frame your work of art in another way, or perhaps it doesn't require a frame at all.

Let the children and the child in you be the guides - don't try to impose an adult view of the world and of what art should be - an adult's view is never as interesting, creative or magical as a child's.

Then take a photo of your picture and post it here...

Merry Christmas everybody, or as they say round these parts where I am indulging in the festivities - Nadolig Llawen (with a bit of God Jul and Buon Natale thrown in for good measure!!).

Happiness...

'The most sought-after and elusive of conditions,

happiness is one of the central themes in human history.

Yet do we even know what it is, much less how to attain it?'

…So begins a book entitled ‘The Discovery of Happiness’ by Stuart McCready.

In this book we meet Plato and Socrates, we visit Nirvana and the soul. From Sufism's magical dancing to the utilitarianism of the Enlightenment, the authors explore every facet of this elusive concept from a philosophical, academic and spiritual perspective.

But interesting as it is, in this book there are no pictures of my children, no kisses from my husband, no hugs from my parents as they arrive on the doorstep, no phonecalls from my distant sister, no texts from my friends, and no images of me flopped on the settee at the end of a hard day with a glass of wine in my hand and something mindless on telly, the kids snoring softly in their beds and my wonderful man performing culinary magic in the kitchen.

There are no pictures of the sun filtering through the clouds, no wafts of cardamom, no sensations of a soft pillow against my cheek, no heart-stopping moments of the sheer joy of being alive.

So whatever happiness is, it sure as hell isn't easy to put down in words! I tried...

How could I be otherwise?

maggie and milly and molly and may

went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star

whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing

which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone,

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it's always ourselves we lose in the sea

e e cummins (selected poems 1923 - 1958)

I am happy, for I have known happiness in my life and I have known love. I feel love. I am loved.

How could I be otherwise?

He's only happy when he's miserable!

Spiritually, I've only known true happiness once. It lasted about two, maybe three, weeks. And I knew it was happiness, in the blissful sense, only when it was finally ebbing away from me. Would I like to return to that state of mind? You bet! Will I get there again? I hope so.

But that's only one kind of happiness. I believe there are as many kinds of happiness as there are people. Something my mum used to say ('he's only happy when he's miserable'!) illustrates the point. There's something about a sustained bout of misery that can also be deemed 'happiness' if that's what suits you at the time. Or the happiness gained from getting through another day without any particular mishap. Or finding that vacant parking space in a busy carpark. Or knowing that you are loved.

Yes, I'd say I was happy, even though I'm not entirely sure what I mean by that! But even in my most anxious moments, I'm still happy. I suppose it's because this is my life, and I wouldn't want to be doing anything else.

Oh, and one other thing... friends = happiness. So thankyou all!!!

Big Art right up to the final moment...

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming:

"WOOHOO what a ride!"


OK, so I've pinched the quote - saw it on another blog, checked Google to see whether I could find the source, got 8,820 hits and gave up! I like the sentiment, though, so I'm going to revise my funeral plans. And to duck charges of plagiarism I'll swap the martini for a bottle of Swedish Punsch ...

TASK: Happiness

In the cold twilight of another passing year, before we bask in the glow of the coming new one – in the dizzying whirlwind of good intentions, resolutions, should-have-dones and wishes, I ask you to ponder this question: What is happiness to you?

I ask because I dread the question and the topic, which, inevitably comes every time I see my mother-in-law. Although I’m expecting it – from the unending drive to see her, to the minute we’re through the door – she never fails to catch me off-guard. When I’ve relaxed, perhaps smiling, for a split second and forgotten that it’s coming. Then, with witchcraft-like cunning, she pounces on me when I’m alone for a brief moment. She pins me with her dark eyes and coos . . . “Are you happy, love?”

Happy? Yes! Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Isn’t everyone? By the way, what is happiness?

In trying to understand the startling, jarring, almost inhuman nature of the question, I’ve tried to think about the elusive and varied meaning of happiness.

To me, happiness has always been something invisible: My mother’s soft touch on my forehead as I dosed in bed when I was a child. The first, tentative tickle of cinnamon-and-pine-scented realisation that it’s Christmas morning. The smile from a boy you fancy. A sparkly ring on that finger. My baby in my arms for the first overwhelming, life-defining moment.

But happiness, to me, is also more than just the sum total of those breath-catching moments. It’s also the sight of my sleeping child every night. My husband’s silent presence next to me every day. My mother at the other end of the phone every week. And, somewhere along the line, for me and I think for most people, those moments blend into one great Connect-the-Dots picture of our life. Is it a happy one? For most people, I hope, the answer is yes.

For my mother-in-law, unfortunately, I fear the answer would be no. Because of the invisibility of happiness, I think, some people end up chasing it their whole lives, like a mist-veiled holy grail. Never realising, the grail is right in front of them, if only they’d pick it up and drink.

Dreaming in Technicolor

The waiting rooms in life have always been the hardest for me. As Dr. Seuss aptly said: "The Waiting Place . . . for people just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake:) or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting."

And, as I wait for Uncle Jake, a precious little dream-fairy brought me an enchanted gift last night . . . a lovely dream that Mr. Daniel Craig decided to come to my birthday party. Never mind that the illusion vanished with the first crystals of morning. Never mind that it was a ridiculous, unimaginable scenario. It was a spontaneous, delightful moment in a time of anxiety, uncertainty and seemingly interminable waiting.

Yes, I do believe in magic.