Weaving The Moon

sunday...senses

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 19:15:00 +0000

read: Anne of Green Gables...i had so many prejudices against this book before i'd ever read it and i wish i'd come to my senses sooner....

taste: peppermint-nettle-oatstraw-dandelion root tea -- had just enough peppermint left in my stash....

see: fevered brow and tear-filled blue eyes of the boy-child...

hear: "i am beautiful after all"

smell: ink and peppermint

touch: slightly rough Navajo blanket

think: that i shouldn't wait for illness to sit quietly and simply "be" with them

feel: enormously wealthy

saturday....early, and the love spills over

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 12:44:00 +0000

blessed quiet; muted darkness and twinkle lights; reheated coffee and the ~~annoying~~ melodious gurgle of a (yet again) not-full-enough fish tank.

i read a blog post this morning that made me wince -- it spoke a personal truth but it felt unkind to me. i know it wasn't intended that way...but still.

then i read another one and my heart expanded and something became clear.

sometimes i get to a point where i know i have to let a thing (or a person) go. usually this happens after months of a small, but persistent, niggling in the back of my head that i dutifully ignore because it's not always a nice thing to decide to remove something (or someone) from our experience.

but nice is a bit over-rated.

{side note: i LOVE this shirt.}

too much, i think, i've suppressed one part of me over the other -- the dampened down part having been tagged early on as, in Jen's words "unfit for public consumption".....

yes, calibrating...i'm always calibrating. (also a great shirt).

i realized that if i want to tell the truth of my story, then it will eventually mean that someone will wince and let me go.

in the context of the wide world, i've never been good at not being liked. i've never been good at upsetting people. which, if you knew me -- and i mean really knew me in the inner world -- you would die laughing to think i'd even say such a thing....because i am really mostly a gobshite.

albeit a more enlightened one than in my mad youth.

i am a bit of a conundrum to myself.

but then, one has to think of the legacy.... i think that supersedes any personal discomfort or yet-to-be-done work in the realms of self-worth.

i'd like to be remembered as the one who immersed herself in her beautiful Maybe and didn't worry if anyone was coming along; i'd like to be remembered as the person who inspired other people to immerse in their beautiful Maybes...

an aspiration which may mean i'm quite mad after all.

how about you, beloved, what would you have people remember about you?

{no expectations to answer that out loud....just the thinking of it can change everything}

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 11:19:00 +0000

weak yang fire pig.

yup. that's me.

sounds delightful, doesn't it? it's sounds like something you'd yell at the ass-hat that just cut you off in a traffic jam. :D

because of the ominous and rather apocalyptic Chinese Zodiac assessment of my luck, i shall not be leaving the house this year. and quite possibly not until i'm 90 whereupon my crappy luck will change for slightly less crappy and if i can hang on until i'm 101, it'll be smooth sailing from there.

clearly i don't understand the nuances of this system, but it has shed some light on my relationship with 'wealth' -which although is a rather broad term, i'm choosing to relate it to money.

really thinky stuff.

and you just know i LOVES me some thinky stuff.

oh, and that i really need to stop wearing blue.

big love to Lis and her beautiful C-girl for opening my heart to the brilliant Chinese culture...even if the whole horoscope thing has plunged me into the abyss...{i'm kidding...absolutely}

happy weekend, my loves!

ps. anyone else LOVE the fact that in Eastern cultures dragons are good guys? i feel very vindicated knowing this....damn you, St.George....although i vaguely recall that was metaphorical...sort of like the snakes in Ireland....

soul-tending

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 11:44:00 +0000

yes, that's it. soul-tending.

i was pondering what exactly i've been doing, in these strange days of our un-winter, and what came to me was that little phrase....soul-tending.

it's like a deep breath in and slow...ever so slow...exhale.

over and over again.

it's in the pages of my Book of Days and my ink-crinkled notebooks...

it's in the poetry -- which, it turns out, are love-letters after all....

and it's in the quiet peace of allowing the outer chaos to be absorbed, transformed and released rather than shielded, battled and conquered....

yes, it's a very good thing.

i've been gathering seeds of dreams and have begun to slowly sow them. i've witnessed firsthand in the last while, the way that faith in following the path of one's heart is rewarded, ~~even~~ especially after the most dire and desperate of tests. and while i didn't think i was the sort of person who needed proof -- well, actually i knew i was the sort of person who needed proof but it turns out that was someone else's story -- it has certainly helped me find the courage i'm going to need.

but for now, the soul-tending continues....i think it's the part i've overlooked in the past when dealing in this business of dreams.

happy monday, my loves....

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 12:14:00 +0000

one love

{Malcolm (l) and Oscar (r) - inter-species co-operation against the morning chill}

*deep exhale*

i feel like i've been skipping school....delicious absenteeism with a slight twinge of irresponsibility.

so...where have i been?

lovely places. off with the faeries, mostly.....turning my face to the winter wind and grinning fiendishly into cold, lashing rain.

alternately, i'm sequestered in my art cave or the eyrie of my writing desk. butt-in-chair, doing the work. i feed my wayward sensibilities by ritualizing it all...candles, incense, fingerless gloves against the intentional chill of the bedroom; sometimes i huddle under a knitted shawl from Wales, sometimes a woven beauty sent from absent friends in Pakistan.

nurturing the daily practice.

it's something, i've discovered, that i need to do quietly and without fanfare; without the need to announce "Look what i've done today! See the art! See the pages of outlines and character sketches!". having done that in the past, it clearly doesn't support an authentic habit in me and nurturing this creative habit is precisely the order of the year for me.

just me, the animals and quiet conversation with angels.

it's a shift, to be sure, and a good one, this soul-care. i wrote in an email that i'm finally realizing the wisdom of the put-your-own-oxygen-mask-on-first advice.

so...

love letters i'm writing to myself:

walking to work -- it's about a 45 minute jaunt....but it saves me bus-fare and lets me marinate in the juice of the wild world on my way to and fro

green smoothies -- truly, like liquid health. spinach and kale, avocado, banana...with a spoonful of hemp hearts in each glass. i can hear my cells *squeee* every time i take a sip

Effy's Book of Days -- i listened to Resistance for the first week and then tied him to a chair and glued his mouth shut. every day. without fail. even a little doodle with oil pastels on my busy work-days when i'm left with very little time. i'm using an altered curbside rescue copy of a Victor Hugo anthology...it's small and unpretentious and turning into my very favourite book-of-smallish-art .

Ambience -- really, it's all about making it special. every evening when i go to my writing desk i create space....i'm wooing my daemon, really..and he has a fondness for beeswax candles and sandalwood incense. he may also insist upon a tiny nibble of chocolate. just a teensy bit....and tea, of course :)

and you, my friends? are you writing love letters to yourselves?

ps. my one big regret of this lovely creative hermitage is that i'm finding myself missing all of your lovely spaces. i've been sneaking in a quick read here and there but i must apologize for not leaving many notes behind...it's very rude of me, i know. but if you see biscuit crumbs on your window-sills or catch a passing whiff of sandalwood mixed with rain, you'll know i was peeping in your windows and sending you love.

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 14:23:00 +0000

who says twinkle lights are just for the holidays?

{ha! i put them up AFTER Chrimbly}

this morning i'm thinking a lot about community. specifically, online community.

i'm thinking about what i value and what i wish to cultivate in my own little corner of the digital universe. i'm so very fortunate in having found such a beautiful tribe of people here -- and i wonder at the consciousness of that. i have never had to 'block' anyone, i've never had to delete hurtful or hateful comments. i can count on one hand the number of times i've been negatively triggered by anything anyone has left in my comment box -- either here or in the other spaces. {which are neglected to the point of genuine abandonment these days}

i think i can safely say that this is a peaceful and {hopefully} pleasant place to visit.

it's also a fairly small corner of the webisphere -- i imagine that size matters in these sorts of things. the bigger the audience, the more statistically likely you are to attract those sad sacks that have made it their life's purpose to sow venom and malevolence wherever they go.

so i'm grateful, deeply so, for that. i am moved to heart-swelling fullness at the kinds of responses i got to my last post -- and so very humbled that anyone would take the time out of their day to leave me a little love and a virtual cuppa when i stumble.

i'm wondering do you lose that when you become a mega-blogger or a Very Important Internet Presence?

if that's the case, i don't imagine i could wish for that level of expansion.

pots of tea and chocolate biscuits in front of the fire....

that's what i want to create here.

not a fortress of Zen or an ivory tower of Important Thoughts.

so perhaps, on a busy day, you'll have to sit on the floor and eat your biscuits on your knee...but there'll be cushions to sit on and the teapot is enchanted so it never runs dry.

conversation over monologue....

every time.

well, except for this time ;) -- today i just want to sit with the glow of gratitude i'm feeling and have you all receive my heartfelt thanks and love without feeling the need to respond.

{i really LOVE this...thanks to Monica for taking the time to put this together, i think it's a beautiful gift we give one another when we can enter into silent witness}

thank you, beautiful people...thank you.

and now we are 9...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 13:26:00 +0000

she's 4 in this pic -- earlier photos pre-date our digital era

hard to imagine where the time has gone -- although it's so very cliche to say that on every child's birth-day. but really, nine years?!?!

2010

oh, this child.

this wild, fierce Capricorn child.

you know -- earlier this year, a boy in the neighbourhood said that he thought she was ugly and it broke her heart.

it shattered mine -- knowing how hearing these things at these ages can inform your life -- because of course it doesn't really count that your mother thinks you're beautiful, or your Dad or your Nanna.

i'll be honest -- i wanted to choke the life out of the little fucker who said it; i wanted to grab him by the scruff of his neck and force him to look at my beautiful girl and make him see how words can wound so deeply -- how something uttered unthinkingly in a playground can have reverberations down a lifetime.

of course that was me reliving my own wounds.

but, oh, Dear Reader, i have never felt so powerless in my life. i have never felt so incapable of providing comfort. my words, my denials, my justifications seemed so hollow and empty and her eyes were so, so full of everything disintegrating around her.

august 2011

it's not because she holds any great store in traditional 'beauty'. we've had enough conversations and she's canny enough to know the difference between beauty and glamour. what she was grieving was him not seeing Who She Is -- and to her, that's the greatest hurt of all.

i've watched her work through this. i've watched her anger and her frustration; i've seen her navigate her way to a degree of understanding -- although it's not complete and she struggles still.

the worst thing of all was that it was a journey she had to make on her own.

for the first time, i felt like a helpless bystander in my daughter's life.

here's where i start praying.

*sigh*

*sniffle*

i hadn't really meant to share this -- but i think i need to ask for a little Sister-wisdom to hold me upright...and to help me light the way for my goddess-emerging....

{happy birth-day, baby girl....thank you for choosing me}

xoxo

{thank you for listening, friends}

start before you are ready*

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 12:35:00 +0000

it's 7:21 am and i've been up since just before 5.

i would blame the Ancient Dog but i was awake before he started his i-need-to-pee-and-have-breakfast pitter-patter around the room.

it's still dark outside; it's windy and cold and there are pickings of snow {or maybe it's ice} hitting the windows.

i am pensive, but not unhappy. quite the contrary, my life is soaked in quiet bliss.

i've already drank two cups of tea and eaten one too many chocolate biscuits. {the breakfast of champions}

i don't have to go to my job today -- and for that i am very grateful. although all of these days off make it so much harder to go back. these are the times when my heart dreams of (even) simpler things and raggedy lifestyles fueled entirely by writing penny papers and selling paintings.

and so the real work begins.....one foot in front of the other, hand on heart and eyes to the sky.

* another excerpt from the Gospel According to Pressfield...this time, it's this one. {thank you miz lynna-g --you're right, i won't be leaving home without it}

onward...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 12:22:00 +0000

so despite my general distaste for the tendency to post-mortem at this time of year -- i find myself looking back over 2011 and pondering its various and assorted Happenings.

quietly of course, in my trusty notebook o' thoughts.

because although i can finally see the value in doing this sort of thing {'finally' - because being able to look over my Happenings with love and compassion has been a journey in and of itself} -- i still don't hold with dredging up the Before and analyzing it within an inch of its life. i like Mr.O'Donohue's policy of spiritual non-interference...

so i observe, i note -- sort out what worked and what didn't -- and move quietly on. and all in a sort of candlelit gentleness rather than glaring searchlight and interrogation.

i don't do resolutions. i think the trouble with resolutions is that most people {myself included} aren't specific enough to make them realistic and i know for certain i never put much action behind the vagaries of blanket statements such as 'exercise more', 'eat healthily', 'claim time for myself'.

but i think the prospect of a fresh new calendar, ripe with possibility, needs some sort of dedication; some sort of statement of hope and intent. so i adopted the idea of having a 'word' for the year, instead. my word for this past year was engage and i'm very happy with how that turned out. it may have wandered off in directions i hadn't quite anticipated, but that's part of the adventure, methinks and i'm all the better for it.

engage, i did.

and it was good.

very good.

moving on.

recently, a word whispered itself in my ear and asserted that it was The Word for 2012. which would be delightful -- i believe one must try to invite rather than command a word out of the ether for the greatest benefit -- so having one waltz in made it so much easier.

except i didn't really like it. it's one of those words that gets bandied about the interwebs with such frequency and over-use as to have rather lost itself. it's a good word, a very good word, but my persnickety self rejected it because it loses its magic and becomes gimmicky in the wrong hands. and i really don't want to be one of those people who is all rainbow-spackled and starry-eyed but without any substance.

i want to be rainbow-spackled and starry-eyed -- but with twigs in my hair and dirt smudges on my face, y'know?

so i told it 'no' and decided i'd have a different word.

except that really isn't how it works. {and i knew that}.

i'm really very thick sometimes. i envision my angel with his head down on the bar in the Divine Lounge, weeping over my idiocy and inability to Get It. :)

anyway, it really is a very insistent sort of word.....which scores it points for constancy....and i did eventually Get It {pan to the shot of my angel and Lis' angel sharing a commiserating pint once again}

so my word for 2012 is.....
......
........

{drum roll, please}

align

i know, right?

my hope for 2012 is to align; to align my truth with action; to align my heart and my soul with my deeds. i wish only to pursue what serves to propel me closer to my purpose and refuse that which draws me away. i wish to embrace fully and wildly the spirit of the Joy Warrior and the beautiful Maybe.

it's a pretty tall order -- calling for absolute mindfulness and razor-sharp discernment. i'm going to need to kick some serious Resistance ass.

but i'm heavily armed -- pen, paintbrush, bubble-wand --- and some gorgeous and mighty warrior souls have got my back {you do know who you are, right? -- yes, you.}

trust me, it's gonna be fantastic.

the beautiful Maybe awaits....

onward then?

winter solstice

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 00:21:00 +0000

i keep trying to write about this but i can't.

oh, there are pages and pages scribbled by candlelight with cold fingers as i sat outside in the morning darkness, sheepskin coat over bathrobe and slippers. my dreads still smell of sage and there are smudges of ash under my fingernails that i haven't managed to scrub out.

perhaps it was the knowing that there were so many of us - some of whom i am honoured to have as sisters-of-my-soul - doing exactly the same thing; that a beautiful, beautiful soul was holding space for us as we declared ourselves free of the unwanted, the un-needed, the unwelcome things.....

perhaps it's because i feel like i'm on the cusp of something....some Thing that's not quite tangible but hinted at in the scraps of poetry and whispers i hear in the wind....

perhaps it's because Crow gifted me with a feather -- after i quietly asked over and again as we followed each other around this past while. and it seemed so perfect to tie it to the one from Swan that i found earlier this summer....

whatever it is, or was, or may be.....

i am ready.

{i'll be absent from this space for the next few days as we immerse ourselves in all the magic of the holidays -- i wish everyone a blessed holiday season, howsoever you celebrate (and even if you don't) -- see you on the other side} xo

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 13:07:00 +0000

there's a strange sort of melancholy descending over me this week -- not exactly sadness -- more of a pensive wistfulness. it's a state i'm not unfamiliar with....it usually signals the need for some deep cave-time. seasonally speaking, it's perfect.

i feel big shifts coming.

i feel like the last few months of 2011 have all been preparation for that...a clearing of the decks, sweeping out some of the cobwebbed corners {i believe, in the interest of spiritual non-interference, we ought to leave some of them cobwebby...those ones are best left undisturbed in peace}....

my experience with the bigger sort of shifts is that they're not necessarily needing of the fanfare of trumpets...they seem to quietly sneak in under the door and through the cracks in the windows.

so i'm sitting with a few things, pondering a few things, simmering a few bit and pieces on the old soul-stove. i plan on joining the circle at the Winter Solstice -- my bundle of un-needed things ready to feed to the flames.

in the meanwhile, here's a little something to think about....art for the sake of art -- to fill the world with beauty and wonder with no expectation of financial gain or notoriety.

'tis the sort of thing that makes my soul dance...

a blessed week's ending to you all...

monday...as promised

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 10:44:00 +0000

Warning: i'm going to swear a bit in this post. a beautiful soul i met in DEEP called it my 'sacred profanity'. divinely inspired, i am indeed...so if you're easily offended, i won't be if you need to click away. :D

~*~

Resistance's goal is not to wound or disable. Resistance aims to kill. Its target is the epicenter of our being; our genius, our soul, the unique and priceless gift we were put on earth to give and that no one else has but us. Resistance means business. When we fight it, we are in a war to the death.

~Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

the absolutely perfect irony here is that i totally resisted buying this book.

i think about four people had mentioned/recommended it to me and for some inexplicable reason {i mean, do i EVER need to be asked twice to buy a book?!?!} -- i didn't buy it.

and then i needed to make up a last Amazon order before the holidays and only needed $8 more for free shipping. it just happened to be at the top of my 'for later' list.

the rest is just a whirlwind of sacred profanity and beams of celestial light. B was starting to get that nervous look in his eye at my random expletives and expostulations as i sat reading -- even more so when he tentatively queried and all i could do was wave my hands vaguely, smile toothily and say, "It's hard to explain..."

i fear i have achieved the mad glint of the newly-converted and will probably be foaming at the mouth during this post so don't stand too close.

Resistance.

i have been entangled in its insidiously clever grip for years without ever knowing it.

subtle, devious, charming --he's a crafty motherfucker.

side note: this begs for all manner of involved metaphor -- dashing young men in lace collars and coat-tails; the debonair vampire; soul-slaying minions of the Darkest Power...i shall, however, spare you.

{you're welcome}

i can even read back over some of my older posts and shake my head in sad recognition of the bastard at work....tunneling into my subconscious and convincing me of all manner of things and distracting me with sparkly bits.

anything to stop me from writing.

now i must mention that this book was only one of a series of things that have drifted across my path of late. reading The Alchemist a month or so ago was, i think, the beginning. after that it was an article here, a comment there...you know how it goes.

there are umpteen brilliant ideas in this book and i imagine i'll delve more deeply into a couple of pertinent ones in the near future but for now, here are a few dangerous thoughts:

i am a writer. this is my calling. it is my soul's work.

family/job/creative cycle -- to some degree they affect my availability to work but they do not prevent me from doing so. I {surrendering to Resistance} prevent me from doing so. it is a choice.

i do not need to be 'healed' in order to do my work. remember this? according to Mr.Pressfield, this is the place from where we create. i happen to believe him. imagine if everyone else believed it - the creative self-help market would tank. *snark*

speaking of which -- workshops, classes etc are agents of Resistance. well-meaning, but enabling nonetheless. eventually, i need to sit down, shutthefuckup, and do the work.

so i'll leave you with a final nugget {ha! Monica, you knew the verses were coming!!}...the gospel according to Pressfield...

Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.

ps. oh. have i mentioned the dreads?

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 11:44:00 +0000

it's desperately rude of me to announce my recent enlightenment and then not explain...but i'm absolutely knackered and my brain is hard up for coherence.

seriously, yesterday stretched into an eternity....starting the day off with a {cat's} urinary blockage and rounding out at the end with a constipated one. oh joy. catheters and enemas... a chaos sandwich.

plus, the moon has been waking me at 3am for almost a week...

so, yeah. you get nothing. *grin*. Monday, i promise. {but it has absolutely turned my world on it's axis and in the happiest of ways}

so until then....a random list of stuff i've loved this week...

beeswax candles

snail-mail WITH art inside

aastha incense

cheese sandwiches

snow flurries

woolen mittens

peppermint-nettle tea

morning coffee with B

conversations with my kids

feeling the Chrimbly tingle build

friday...oh. my. god! how i love friday...

happy weekend, my friends!!

revelation # 456

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 10:04:00 +0000

{image credit}

holy crapadoodle, i have seen the Light.

{more on that later}

monday...rambling thoughts for {another} rainy day

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 10:35:00 +0000

it's been a very wet autumn.

i ventured to the mall this past Saturday -- i'm such a sadist, i know. i generally avoid such places like the plague however i needed to purchase a gift card for my niece for Chrimbly and had been unable to foist the errand off anyone else.

let me just say -- that despite getting there early and having a blinkers-on mission...it was a psychic assault to beat all psychic assaults.

jesus-wept. all the noise and twinkle and glare of holiday lunacy.

not for the faint of heart.

i jest, but really, it pains me on a physical level to see what the season has devolved into.

but since i was there anyway, i treated myself to a peruse of the book store. there's nothing like a book store to tickle one's inclination to get back to the task of writing. and they had such beautiful, beautiful little notebooks....*dribbles*.

but i was very good and bought only what i had on my List.

~*~

Savannah and i drew and painted and crayoned on some big sheets of paper with the idea that we'd use it for wrapping paper.

i think gift-bags are a total cop-out -- and that's having used them for years. i think it spoke to my desire to get the whole sodding occasion over with so i just shoved the stuff in bags for easy access and thus timely conclusion.

i also did some little watercolours with the intention of making cards. unfortunately, i don't really subscribe to the idea of cards -- so much wasted paper -- but i kept painting anyway in the name of creative slackery and joy warriorism.

i seem to be painting elves and snowmen with a similar compulsion to Lis' farmyard animals.

~*~

Jasmine is doing marvelously -- i went in Saturday morning to give her morning medications and she was bright and chipper. she was afflicted with a severe protozoal diarrhea and so imagine my delight to see a perfectly formed log in the litterbox. *grin*. poop is indeed the window into one's well-being....;)

thank you all again for your prayers and well-wishes -- it really was dire for a day or so but i do believe she was carried on a wave of caring....

~*~

i feel myself drifting off into a cycle of quiet.....'tis the darkening of the days, methinks and my frequent desire to huddle under blankets with mugs of tea and a good book. i'm powering my way through some "old" YA fantasy...Diana Wynne Jones and the like....the Chrestomanci stories are quite brilliant. i also found a Charles de Lint book -- we ventured to different library branch last week. {we felt very unfaithful going to a different branch -- ours will be reopening this week -- but one canNOT be expected to be without books for an entire month!}

~*~

i don't really know that there's much market for self-published YA -- i tend to think of the online buying power as being reserved mostly for adults...then again, i may not be giving the young 'uns enough credit.

either way, i shall carry on.

~*~

happy Monday, lovelies...

it's friday, i'm in love...joy pockets edition

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 12:29:00 +0000

it's been a worrisome week. one of the clinic cats, Jasmine, is very ill -- we now know what she has, but she really shouldn't be this ill with what it is.

long story.

i'd be happier if she would just eat.

anyway.

so to chase away the ghost of worry, a little Joy Pocketing is in order, methinks...

curried pierogies

pocket notebooks {for those moon stone emergencies}

people-watching

warmth and light on a cold, dark night

poetry

a tidy desk

dinner prepared and the dishes washed {blue moon?}

permission to let go

new perspectives

a quiver of Christmas spirit

positive feedback {just as i was flagging}

a colouring book for grown-ups {well, chronological grown-ups}

Heidi is back

t-shirt design that makes me *squeeeee*

photo of a nook -- {with an owl} {just for me!}

ah...that's better.

{here's where to find more Joy Pockets}

have an infinitely beautiful weekend, my loves --

ps. if you could spare a thought/candle/prayer for our wee Jasmine, i'd really love that.

ETA: as of last evening (Friday), Miss Jasmine came off the IV fluids and was eating under her own steam. *deep sigh*. thank you to everyone who wished her well......(((hugs)))

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 11:58:00 +0000

{source}

i've struggled over what to write here, today -- it's World AIDS Day for those of you who may not know that.

i may not have known it myself a year or so ago -- i don't partake in newspapers or television news and the like -- so i might have missed it.

but about a year ago, someone came into my life and changed everything..

he knows he's magic to me -- at least i hope he does -- and the gift of his life has touched mine in deep and incredible ways.

because of him, i want to rage against the world -- against government, against Big Money, against the policy-makers and the ignorance of humanity in general. i want to scream at all of you about how frustrating it is to know of the various and assorted ways that HIV/AIDS has remained a marginalized disease -- an epidemic of the unwanted; of the people and places that society would sooner forget.

but that could get ugly -- tear-snot ugly -- and it wouldn't change anything.

instead, i 'll tell you what i want.

i want my daughter's can of apple juice to have a red label in December. i want my loaf of bread to have a little red ribbon on the corner of the package. i want to be able to buy a red coffee mug, red shoelaces, and a red leash for my dog.

i want men to grow beards in December -- right after they've grown a mustache in November, it shouldn't be that hard.

in short, i want corporate sponsorship for HIV/AIDS. i want companies with huge pots of money to funnel it into funding and research and treatment.

i want Presidents and governors and Prime Ministers and other People Who Decide Things On Behalf of Everyone to stop hiding behind their reports and policies and listen to the people who are there; the angels who are helping the ill -- our fellow human beings -- who are suffering and surviving this horrible disease. i don't want them to tell me there's no money -- that the 'current economic crisis' is behind their foot-dragging. if there are millions of dollars available to hunt down and kill one man, then there must be enough to save the lives of thousands - and not just through treatment, but in the prevention of further infection.

i want the everyday people to think long and hard about why they keep throwing their hard-earned money at only the 'popular' diseases -- why they keep buying those lottery tickets for the big houses and flash cars; why they grow those mustaches and buy those pink shoelaces.

ask yourself -- do you still believe in the HIV of the 1980's?

that is a stigma borne of pure ignorance; of hatred and discrimination.

do some people deserve treatment but others do not?

is it okay to sacrifice the lives -- to condemn to suffering, men, women and children -- to appease your own morality?

ask yourself the hard questions. then see if you can't find yourself a red ribbon to wear today.

ps. for Micael -- here's to another year of kickin' some viral ass! {you are loved and held}

pps. i know that, due to the magnificent awesomeness of the people who read here regularly, i'm preachin' to the choir -- but you might want to pass the message on anyway. {thank you}

prayers from the moon

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 10:00:00 +0000

the beautiful Tara asked yesterday about the moon stones.

so i figured, since i didn't really have anything else planned, i'd 'splain what they are. well, what they are to me anyhow.

i first came across the idea of "small stones" {as they are actually called} through Fiona -- over here. joining in with the various stone-a-thons has been one of the few bloggy -athons that i've ever managed to actually finish.

that ought to say something.

anyway -- they're moments in time. an act of immersion; of finding the extra in the ordinary.

i wasn't publishing them regularly except during organized stone-a-thons but often found myself writing them in my head.

then something my soul-sister Rose said a while back about me being a writer in my head but not realizing it because i'm not in anyone else's head...

then something Mr.O'Donohue said about us stepping onto holy ground every time we create...

all of these things cobbled together and i came to realize that writing is my version of prayer; writing and the communion of paint on paper is the only form of ritual i can truly step into as myself.

revelatory, i know.

*blinks*

ahem.

anyhoo -- they're not intended to be Haiku...the three-line format is something i slid into and haven't been able to shake out of.

it would be easier sometimes if i could.

but easy isn't always better and i'm at the point where i ~~need~~ want to try a little bit harder.

sometimes i think i'd like to come in out of the wind and the rain...at least for a while....you know, just to see if i like it.

so thanks for asking, Tara. {xo}

monday...the stuff or the substance

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 11:41:00 +0000

Google+ has proven to be a treasure trove of magic and discovery.

i have a particular loathing for Facebook.

it started off as a delightful way to reconnect with people i eventually realized i didn't really want to reconnect with. it was downhill from there. i have family members who rarely converse, they simply "Facebook" each other.

i have never {nor do i intend to} Twittered.

but i digress.

Google+.

some mighty clever folk congregating there.

well, i'm sure there are eejits there too -- i've had a few of those 'add me' -- apparently it's something of a faux pas to not add them back. but i reserve the right to not be surrounded by eejits.

true, there's a bit of +1 clutter...people re-posting stuff a la Tumblr, but for the most part there are some brilliant conversations going on.

as such, i found my way to this article which made me squirm just a tiny bit in the way that one squirms when one recognizes a similar tendency in oneself.

so despite the fact that there are three of us sharing one aging desktop computer; despite the fact that i've been staring slack-jawed and dribbling at the Apple website at the truly juicy MacBooks and the Zen-diferous iMacs ever since the screen on my laptop went dark for the last time {cue weeping}....

i am reminded that all i really need to do my work, is my Dollar Store composition book and a Pentel RSVP.

total cost? about $2

{the composition books are now $1.50 and i get a big box of My Most Favourite Pen at Staples for about $5}

~*~

i'm resurrecting moon stones.

it seems a reasonable baby-step toward a daily writing practice. i realized some time ago that i was writing them in my head anyway -- i might as well start scribbling them down.

with aforementioned Essential Tools.

naturally.

simplify. simplify. simplify.

plus, my composition book doesn't have an internet connection.

ps.i still want the iMac. i just know that i don't need it. :D

it's Friday, i'm in love

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 13:00:00 +0000

i've been away from the interwebs for most of the week...popping in here and there but generally neglectful.

clearing space -- both literally and figuratively.

my writing desk/space took a hit of radical decluttering early in the week. two drawers full of assorted rough drafts were sorted and unceremoniously shredded. the Novel Which I Have Abandoned being the most unceremoniously annihilated. (fear not, there is a digital copy should i see the error of my ways).

blank slate.

i even got my dad to saw a couple of inches off my chair legs. my desk is an old secretaries desk from Canada Mortgage and Housing and the writing surface is quite low -- designed as it was for an ancient behemoth of a typewriter. as such, i found myself leaning down to write and it was very uncomfortable. i contemplated forking out for an adjustable chair -- but decided just to enlist my favourite handyman instead.

but despite all of the clearing and cleaning; the dusting and rearranging...

i am willing to not write.

i feel like painting.

i also have letters to write and birthday gifts to wrap for a family party this weekend. we're going to stamp some recycled packing paper to use as Christmas wrap. we have the final two Harry Potter movies on loan to watch.

~*~

we had our parent-teacher interview with Savannah's teacher this week. he's a wonderful young man and she clearly adores him. which is absolutely enough for me. i am delighted to have been proven wrong about her decision to return to school.

it was a student-led interview, so Savannah was there to share with us what she's learning with Mr.S gently prompting her to describe the different things they've been doing. listening to her read aloud a story she had written, noticing the cleverness and humour in her 8-year old writing, i had a quiet revelation. it washed over me slowly and filled me with such a sense of peace that it almost took my breath away.

the beautiful Maybe has infused every aspect of my life except one.

i have shackled myself firmly with the Shoulds and Should Nots of writing -- in my attempt to include everything, i have limited everything.

in her newness to writing -- in the joy of discovery of the magic of the written word (because she is starry-eyed and amazed that she's doing this thing called "writing stories") -- my child has reminded me of the simple power of story.

sitting in the little chair at the little blue table, i realized that i need to abandon everything i've ever learned about How To Write For Children - which, if i am to be honest, is really nothing more than How To Write So Children's Publishers Will Accept Your Work.

you need a beginning, a middle and an end. interesting stuff needs to happen; use a variety of words, have some good characters. that's it.

beginner's mind.

and gratitude.

always.

monday....immersion

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 12:08:00 +0000

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.

~Friedrich Nietzsche

i like that. very much.

in my experience, this is how it is. from the greatest angst, comes the greatest clarity.

i'm doing The Work.

it's a natural fit for me -- prone as i am to hover about my mind with a thermometer and a Compendium of Diagnostics. i've come to a point where i'm stood facing the same old things; i've been skirting around them for ages in a ridiculous and relentless display of posturing and intimidation, suppression and denial and getting absolutely nowhere. i've tried beaming my way out on a rainbow-glitter-cloud of enlightenment and benevolence and all that got me was self-contempt and glitter in my hair.

i should be writing

my children/husband should respect my need for uninterrupted creative time

if i had {insert assorted conditions here} then i'd be able to write

i'm attached to these thoughts {and an assortment of others} and they're causing me a great deal of stress and fury. alas, i've woven years of story around these thoughts and am thoroughly entangled.

i think that unraveling the stories of writers and artists must be one of the harder tasks for the Work....after all, we are adept at creating alternate realities. it is my job to convince you that my world is real. so naturally, i've got myself spun into the most fantastical yarn about my own reality...it's very compelling, i must say. i am an excellent story-teller. :)

but since i've let go of other people's shit, it's high time i dug down for my truth; the real truth, not the one i've sold myself on.

something tells me it's going to be a helluva ride.

and you? what story have you told yourself that isn't true? are you ready to let go of it?

it's friday, i'm in love...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 11:53:00 +0000

this has been a week of less.

and as it goes, lots of less has quietly wriggled it's way to my attention...

so today's Friday-love is dedicated to some bloggy-delights....

:: i loved Tara's post about The Holidays....since giving myself permission to not do, my entire outlook on what is usually a horribly stressful and anti-festive-feeling time of year for me has changed considerably. that might explain my beaming benevolence of late. {insert wild-eyed look here}

:: no idea how i first found this blog -- one of those follow the blog-crumbs sorts of adventures -- but i've found it incredibly inspiring and has me pondering the next phase of my Radical Decluttering process. the idea of living in such a tiny house makes me twitchy -- people, i need my space; not a lot of space, but more than that, egads! -- but there's so much goodness in the philosophy behind it.

:: and on the theme of clutter....some interesting thoughts about how we accumulate it and how we can let go of it.

:: Amanda captures the wild contentment of simple things.

~*~

now for some random love....

:: i really love this blog. it's one of the treasures i found via Google+ -- Paula is a beautiful writer and her thoughts on the spiritual connections between humans and horses reverberates wildly through me.

:: she's ba-a-a-a-a-a-ck! Effy blogeth. 'nuff said. this is my fave of the week

:: Micael is assembling poetry for publication...which makes me *squeeeee* uncontrollably.

:: this makes me giggle-snort. i have a sort of twisted and dark sense of humour, what can i say?

of course there are an infinite number of things that have made my heart sing this week...and for every one of them, i am deeply grateful.

life is good.

on deciding not to give a rat's ass...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 00:53:00 +0000

since deciding to not do things, i've experienced an ever- increasing ease with which i'm able to give myself permission to let go of even more. additionally, i find myself weathering even the shite-iest of events with relative aplomb.

today was an absolute bollocks in so many ways. and yet.....i am nonplussed.

i imagine it's a bit like a muscle that hasn't had much exercise. the first demands will be excruciating but eventually, given time and persistence, it becomes almost effortless.

i am most pleased.

{and a teensy bit suspicious -- i haven't felt this benevolent since i was chugging Rescue Remedy by the bottle-full}

but mostly just pleased.

furthermore...

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 09:47:00 +0000

for years i've indulged in lengthy bouts of self-flagellation over the fact that i don't write every. single. day.

at some point along the way i read the auspicious words uttered by Someone Who Knows These Things that a writer must write every day to consider themselves a writer. otherwise, they're clearly Not Serious About Writing and/or Not Committed To Their Craft.

sucker-punch revelation -- i don't always write every day -- ergo, i am not a real writer.

{cue gnashing of teeth and rending of garments}

i don't mind telling you that buying into that little gem has messed with my head in a big way. for longer than i care to admit, it was enough to paralyze me from writing at all. it took me a whole lot of soul-mining to find my way home.

even now, having done the work and found my peace with it all...

... the whisper of fraudulence haunts me.

sure, i write most days but many of those days it's only journal writing/morning pages type stuff.

truth is, nothing would make me happier than writing every day {if that's where my rhythm led me}. it's just not an option quite yet.

in order for it to become an option -- requires further exercise in psychological space-clearing. phase one of that is deciding what needs to be kicked to the curb.....

cutting through to my truth -- here's me rejecting that bit of mind-fuck wisdom.....

my name is mel. i am a writer who doesn't write every day.

monday.....what i'm not doing in November

noreply@blogger.com (mel) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 09:36:00 +0000

i am not doing NaNoWriMo.

i attempted to participate for the last two years and...well...let's just say it didn't end well. actually, yes it did. i have two excellent story outlines.

i am not doing Art Every Day Month.

i've seen lots of folk around the blogosphere taking part in this lovely exercise, and despite being sorely tempted, i decided not to join in.

i'm not doing these things because i've come to recognize something in myself that absolutely needs to be honoured if i am to remain both sane and creatively inspired.

simply put, if i try to force myself out of my natural creative rhythms, things go very wrong.

oh, so, sooo very wrong.

what works as an exercise in self-discipline and goal-setting for some, sparks a vicious cycle of self-loathing , resistance and disappointment in me.

if i surrender to my rhythms, i am blissfully happy and extraordinarily productive.

i wax and i wane and there is great rejoicing. {and a fair bit of art}

what can i say? my muse is a faithless bastard. {but i love him desperately}

so instead of churning out 1, 667 words of Absolute Shite every day -- i'm agonizing over a picture book dummy, wondering how to incorporate a dishy-yet-tortured fire-wielding character into my current story {just so i can fall in love with him} and decluttering my kitchen.

and you? what are you doing {or not doing} this November?