What is there?

There is no answer

Only an excuse.

There is no hearing

Only words.

There is no empathy

Only selfishness.

There is no joy

Only pain.

Excruciating pain.

Unimaginable pain.

There is no love

Only sadness.

                                                                                   

Guest Post: Steve

Today I am honoured to bring my husband's thoughts to this online space. Steve, a man of compassion, love and wisdom is generous, easy going and knows how to have fun. I am deeply and personally inspired by all he does, how he does it and the messages he has to share. Enjoy.

Water the Compost

Gday, Steve here. I just wanted to share some musings from the garden and beyond.

This weekend I was digging out my lawn clippings compost bay. Realising the summer lawn season will soon be on us I thought I should have some nice wormy dirt to top up some garden beds, making room for a new season of lawn clippings. But this was not to be. Instead I found only a little bit of wormy dirt and quite a lot of dry grass, musty and discoloured but not decomposed into the lovely rich growing soil I had hoped for. We have had a very dry winter and without the water the compost couldn’t compost.

It reminded me of some great teaching I heard recently on the topic of grief.

A friend of mine, John, was teaching at our annual Men’s Rites of Passage (MROP) retreat on this important topic in men’s work, and he used the metaphor that you need to water the compost to make good soil. Meaning: that it takes tears to transform the experiences of life worth grieving over into rich experiences (soil) that we can grow from.

This weekend my compost bay opened up this truth to me in a very real way.

I discovered what happens if we just have the grief worthy experiences and cover them over with more layers of “life”; we just end up with a whole pile of “musty and discoloured” memories of painful experiences, experiences or wounds that haven’t had the chance to become sacred wounds, they haven’t been transformed into the rich soil for growth that helps us understand more fully who we are, and how we are meant to be in this world. They are just there still, much how they were, just a little more stinky.

I also discovered what happens when the water can get in. In my compost pile this was only a little around the edges, but still I could see how the water provides the catalyst for the transformation process. It allows the decomposers to do their work and break down the basic elements and create a moist rich dark brown soil, full of life; worms, ants, decomposers of all kinds, all through it, making something different out of the waste. This soil looks so different to the lawn clippings it started as. It is teaming with life and life sustaining, rather than a dull and lifeless version of its former self.

This rang so true for me about grief both in my own life, and in the lives of others I have walked with. Grief-worthy experiences just go stagnant and stinky if we bury them under layers of life, without taking the time to cry the tears they are due over them, but conversely, there is opportunity to transform them, process them so that they actually become the experiences that bring growth and sustain life.

We live in a world that doesn’t do grief well. Every life has grief-worthy experiences in it regularly, not just big ones we immediately think of, like a death of a loved one, but all shapes and sizes of grief-worthy experiences: Death of a marriage, loss of a job, loss of a hope or dream, breakdown in family relationships, sickness or accident related health issues, loss of innocence etc. Even positive happy things can bring grief-worthy experiences where a promotion at work means moving neighbourhoods and losing connections with people & places, birth of a first child brings a change in a couple’s life that restricts freedom etc. Grief is a part of everyday life for us all, at least it should be; little losses & sadness's. These experiences and the emotions attached to them need to be processed.

We are so quick to tell ourselves and one another to “Get over it”, that we don’t often give ourselves permission to sit with our pain and let it do its work in us, let it turn to soil in our depths.

By tending our hurts, big & small, and watering them with our tears, we create the rich soil of our souls, from which the life we can only imagine living can spring forth from.

Or I guess we could just build another compost bay every so often to keep our ever growing stockpile of unprocessed grief, from constantly “getting over it” and stuffing some more “life” in on top.

Today I put the sprinkler on my compost bin of last year’s lawn clippings. I can see the change already. Old compost seems to respond well to water.

I guess this shouldn’t be a surprise.

             Steve.

Nature's Patience.

Nature has a beautiful presence in my life.

It's beauty

and flow

reach

 right down

 into the depths of my

heart and soul.

It nourishes,

feeds,

teaches,

soothes,

comforts,
provides,

enlightens.

Nature is patient with me.

And nature is teaching me
to be patient with

 myself.

'Adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience' ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson.

What has nature been teaching you?

Brave

Do you ever

feel

misunderstood?

Do you ever

feel 

unseen?

Do you ever

feel

left out?

Do you ever

feel

lonely?

None of these feelings feel nice.

None of them feel good.

Sometimes I can be surrounded by good people,

caring people,

people who encourage my soul,

and yet feel

unloved,

unwanted,

unnoticed.

Does this happen to you?

Why is it that even though I know my true worth in God

and know He sees me and notices me

I still want to be seen and noticed by others.

Why?

I guess my brokeness and fragility get in the way.

My head takes over and makes it difficult for my heart to see

the truths.

Another reason is maybe

He

doesn't want me to be seen and noticed.

The journey I am on at present is a journey of growth.

As wonderful and amazing as it is

it can be extremely lonely at times.

I crave others to journey with me.

I crave companionship as I go deeper.

Lately as I have questioned

 I wonder if it needs to be this way.

Do I need the solitude that comes

 with a lonely path?

Do I need silence to

hear what my heart is

trying to speak?

Silence to hear what is being

revealed to my soul?

Of course with this lonely and sometimes 

sad path

comes

courage and bravery.

I began to create this canvas a few months ago.

I didn't finish it.

I stalled. 

It needed something but I wasn't sure what.

So it sat on the shelf.

Today I discovered what it needed.

It needed to say what I heard my heart speaking.

I had been reading a magazine and came across an article by Kelly Rae Roberts.
As soon as I read the words on one of her canvas' I knew what my heart
had been saying.

'She was brave in her loneliness and sadness

and brave in her love and joy'.

I feel blessed to be on this journey.

And I feel blessed

to have art and words

 that can express

what my heart is saying.

Today I am............

Grateful ~  for the little things. The birds in the trees outside my windows. The sun that is warm on my back as I hang the washing. The bin man who just collected my rubbish.  The postman who delivered my longed for parcel. The clean tank water I am drinking.

Enjoying ~  the very clean and tidy house I have. Monday's are usually tidy up/clean the house day after the weekend. However, we had real estate people coming on Saturday so we tidied and cleaned Saturday morning. Miraculously it is still tidy and clean.

Proud ~  of my nearly 14 yr old son who completed the 40 hr famine this weekend. No food for 40 hrs. He was so good. Hardly had any of the allowed juice or barley sugars. Didn't complain at all even when the rest of us had mixed berry smoothie's Saturday afternoon when he was starving.

Longing ~   for Sunday. I'll tell you why later. Right now it seems so long away.

Listening  ~  to Brandi Carlile.  Love her voice. Love her music.

Wondering  ~  what to make for dinner. Something with chicken I think. Maybe a stirfry. Or chicken pie?? 

Reading ~  this and loving it. Inspirational, educational, and encouraging. Think I might go make a cuppa and read some more.

Hope your week is inspirational and wonderful.

Teaching Mum.

Ever since my kids were very young we have enjoyed being creative together.

Over the years we have

played playdough, painted, re-arranged furniture,

made collages, arranged flowers in a vase, organised our nature table,

coloured in, drawn pictures, decorated school books,

made cards, scrapbooked, built lego,

taken photos, baked and cooked.

Here are some photos of when the kids were younger enjoying creative play.

                                                     

 As I reflected over this list (and enjoyed the photos) I realised that

many activities required me to give instructions, ideas and guidance,

however there were other occassions where it was the kids giving me the instructions or ideas. 

I love that.

Sharing our ideas with one another and
creating together.

Last week at school Timmy had been making flowers out of tissue paper.

 I had seen what he had made at school and I asked him how he made it. 

He suggested he teach me at home.

I had a little chuckle to myself at that.

He was quite serious.

So yesterday after dinner all four kids and I (Dad was out) gathered around the kitchen table

to 'learn' how to make the tissue paper flowers. 

We had the supplies ready and Timmy began to show us the steps involved. 

I am not sure who was happiest.
Timmy as he shared his project?

 Or me, being taught by my 8 year old son

and enjoying the interaction with him and his older siblings
as they give their time to watch and learn from their young brother.

My hope,

as time ticks on and my children grow,

is that we can continue to embrace creativity
and have space to share it with others.

                                                                 

Let your heart soar.

Things have been a bit quiet in the studio the last few months.

Chicken pox times 4, fractured bones times 2,
colds, chest infections and an asthma diagnosis
 all added to an already busy life.



Timmy recovering after sedation and plastering.



Sarah's fractured collar bone.



Amongst this chaos and busyness I was having a melt down.

I was burnt out.

I kept a brave face.

I kept plodding along.

I tried to keep doing all the things I was commited to.

Then one night I just knew I couldn't go on.

I couldn't keep that brave face anymore.

I couldn't keep plodding along anymore.

I couldn't keep doing all those things I was commited too.

I was going through my diary, adding things here and there.

Filling up days at a speed I had never seen before.

That is when the anxiety set in.

I began to panic.

How could I do all this?

I was empty and spent.

I had nothing left.

I cried.

I spent the next week wandering around in a daze.

So tired and lost.

I spent days sitting and thinking and just being.

I read and sat some more.
I made decisions that were hard yet necessary.

Through these days of wondering and questioning and trying to 'see' again

 I realised I hadn't been in the studio for a while.

The busyness and fullness of life had taken me away.

I decided I would go and make a start.

Maybe I could just paint a background in my art journal.

I took one look at my studio table and gasped.

Where was it?

Two months of dumping stuff on top of more stuff had made my studio very unfit for creating.

So I ignored the studio for a few days after that.

 I was too tired and overwhelmed to tackle that project.

My soul however wasn't ready to give up.
It kept calling and reminding me it had things to release.

My soul wanted to play and experiment and share.

My soul was crying out for me to create something.

Anything.

Eventually I listened.

I devoted some time to tidying up.
Putting stuff away and making my space ready again.

My soul was thankful.
My soul was grateful.
My soul was getting excited.

The process of preparing my creative space was therapy in itself.

It was good to create again.

It was good to put paint to paper.

It was good to write some thoughts and words in my art journal.

I had missed this.

My soul had missed this.



The first layer of a new art journal page.

 

It has been a few weeks since I first began to melt down and unravel.

Am I better?

Heck no.

Am I less tired?

Not at all.

Is the anxiety gone?
Not completely.

But my soul feels a little fresher.

My heart is seeing hope again.

My world is still busy and chaotic.
It is difficult to allow myself the time to just create and play.

However, I am finding little bits of time here and there to

express my soul creatively.

I am trying to give myself permission to play in the studio again.

I am slowly allowing my heart to soar again.

And I like that.

Today I am....

Sitting ~  in my special sacred space. I have my basket filled with art supplies that can go with me out into the garden. I sit and sketch, maybe add some colour, my mind wanders, I allow peace in.

Reflecting ~  on the weekend that has just been.  The listening of stories about the camp my 12 yr old son has just been at, the considered thoughts of my 8 yr old regarding his lego game, the delightful art ideas my 10 yr old daughter is exploring, the discussions with my 13 yr old son about what is going on in the world, the simplicity of making kites and attempts to use them,  the yummy meal we shared around the fireplace and of course the visit to the local shop where some of my creative spoils are for sale.

Anticipating ~  the weekend to come where we will meet our beautiful new family member. A precious baby who is loved and wanted and will be fussed over and cuddled and spoilt with love. It will be a special day for us all. All the cousins together, the siblings together, the mother and her 3 children and their chidlren together.

Enjoying ~  the aroma of pea and ham soup. One of my favourites. So glad to have some left over.

Planning ~  the weeks menu. Mustard chicken, beef casserole, chicken soup, yum.

Tired ~ after staying up very late to watch the Tour de France. The aerial shots of Paris were just spectacular and I just couldn't bring myself to go to bed (even though we recorded it so we could watch at a more respectable time of day).

Grateful ~ the flowers that keep popping up in the garden even though it is winter here. Just little bursts of colour here and there to brighten the day.

Knowing ~ that even though my heart is fragile, my soul is tired, my body and mind are burnt out there are positives. The dramas, busyness, disappointments and changes that I face daily can be endured with a cuddle from my husband or anyone of my children.  A cuddle, a smile and/or a kind word really do make a difference.


Making and flying kites.



A rose blossom.

 

Art with mother and daughter.

Loving the Tour de France.



The delights of change.

'We delight in the beauty of the butterfly,
but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty" ~  Maya Angelou.

Change is a part of life.

A part of living in this beautiful yet broken world.

Change is unavoidable.

Change is wonderful and horrible.

Change can grow us or destroy us.

Change brings beauty as long as we allow it too.

I enjoy change,

 however usually only when I can control it.

When it comes sneaking up behind me and jumps out and says boo

I am not so willing to accept it.

When it comes from way down the road and I have time and opportunity to try and avoid it I am still

 a little wary of it.

There are times when I willingly accept it.

Sometimes change approaches me and I am relieved.

At last I say.

What took you so long?

Changes are a part of my world and a part of human life.

We can buck and avoid and kick and scream as much as we want but change will come.

Change will transform.

What it transforms and how is up to us.

The past few months have been somewhat challenging in our little world.

Changes have been on the horizon

 and we have had to accept them.

 Some of the changes have been unexpected

and we had to accept them just the same.

Looking back over these months

I can see how these changes came about, evolved and enveloped into our daily life. 

During some moments
these changes were not pleasant or inviting.
They were not something we celebrated,
however, they have brought beauty which is welcoming.

As the changes continue to knit their way into our life
the beauty follows.

One particular change came unexpectedly 

and yet it brought so much peace that I was, and still am, overwhelmed.

It involved a decision I had to make.

A decision to put aside a dream for a season.

It was a change that I initiated.

A change I welcomed.

A change that is already bringing beauty and life into our world.

As I delight in the beauty of my life

 I am also endeavouring to delight in the changes that bring this beauty. 

Your Living Canvas

I love stories.

I love to hear them and I love to tell them.

My story is my life.

The ups, the downs, the sideways, the every-which ways.

Our stories are who we are.

What we love.

What we care about.

What matters most to us.

................

I have joined another on-line class called Your Living Canvas. 

This class by Christy Tomlinson and Art McCracken is all about how we each have a story to tell and a canvas to create.

Our living canvas.

It involves soul searching exercises and journaling to help

tell my story,

find balance in the everyday and 

 be present.

It involves art, techniques and story telling.

If this class sounds interesting or inspiring to you

go to

Christy Tomlinson's blog to find out more details.

I can't wait to learn more about my story and how I can create my living canvas.