What is REAL?

What is REAL?

rabbit

I have never seen the world as it is. I freely admit that.

I don’t ever remember any time of knowing where I did not completely understand that I was different. I have always understood that how I see things and the way I think about them, is NOT how other people do. I had two choices, to forget who I was, or not. Except it is never as simple as that. Choosing to hold on to me came at a bigger cost. It meant I would probably always be on my own at best, and at worst, I would be the one that others directed all their personal angst at. I would make myself a life-long target.

It might have been different if being me was about going quietly on my way but being me is loud and full of laughter and excitement and enthusiasm. It is compassion spilt all over everywhere and tears . . . tons and tons of tears . . . sometimes in sorrow but also in pure joy and love. I love people with loud exclamations. I fight for the people I love and I fight for those that no-one loves. I never sit down and keep my mouth shut. I see everything. And everything means something to me. I scream for people to see the elephant. I draw chalk outlines and colour it in so that everyone has to be able to see it. I call people liars when they refuse to see it.

I have never learned how to hide what I am under a bushel. Read more

The Art of Joy.

The Art of Joy.

Malipiece

You have to appreciate this picture with me.

I have recently started colouring, blaming my daughter Tina who gave me a colouring book and crayons for Christmas and unleashed the monster. Then I joined a couple of the groups on Facebook and it was kind of like baptism by a dunk in the deepest ocean . . . while holding a heavy rock .. . . . duct taped to your hands.  Suddenly my life was everything colouring and the passion and intensity of people driven to colour every day, in every way, endlessly, over and over, buying and consuming all things colourful rip tided me way out into the deep beyond all rescue.  My life was taken over by the raging river of nonstop posting on my Facebook.  My phone sounded like it was having an epileptic attack with all the dinging to notify me of another post.

I couldn’t even see anything my friends or family posted on my feeds.

Best week of my life.

(kidding)

And most of the work is exceptional and beautiful beyond what you could imagine possible with a coloured pencil and those that are not quite up to that standard are just beginners who will nail it and surpass their teachers in no time.

I spent a lot of time researching, as is my way, and learning about the terms and the supplies etc. I always figure, if I suck at colouring, I can impress them with how they make those prisma coloured pencils or which paper is the best to use and why. I am never sure if people are impressed with what I have to say or just that any human being can talk that fast and for so long without breathing.

I will take what adoration I can get. Read more

Reflecting on The Circle of Life

Reflecting on The Circle of Life

children

Allow me a moment.

Today I woke up sad.

As I sat drinking my morning coffee and looking out over the day which was unfolding before me, I was thinking back to all the early mornings I was up, wondering how I would make it through the day without any sleep the night before, rocking a baby who had finally fallen asleep, now that that everyone else was about to wake up.  Read more