Life on the hill: peace

Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Turn on your creativity. Its in all of us

When I lived on the house on the hill, there was a huge play room. A place for my children to play, and hang out, and a place for me to create. Its the only place I have ever lived in that allowed me easy access to the things I use to create. I had a table, and book cases, and space for my easel. It was wonderful.

When the children were at school, I would put on music - anything that my heart desired, and paint and paint and paint. I have lost count of the number of times I have heard people say 'I couldn't paint if my life depended on it'.

You see, I believe that everyone has the ability to create. In some form. Be it sewing, crafting, sculpting, writing, painting, drawing, craving... you get the idea. It is only the individual who limits their ability to create. I had a number of friends come and paint with me for the day. Armed with a canvas, and a sense of 'I can't paint', they would come to the house on the hill, and stand in front of their empty canvases, too frightened to put paint on it. To frightened to let go of the logical side of their brain and let the creative side take over.

I would be madly away in my creative world, and they would still be standing looking at their blank canvas. Covered in paint, paint brush or palette knife in hand, I would guide them over to the stack of art magazines and books I have. "Here. Look. Stop thinking so much about it, and just look for somewhere to start." This would always end up being the point of departure for them, and they would start to paint. Timidly at first, then with more abandonment. It was wonderful to observe.

For me, creating - specifically painting - is soul feeding. It helps restore my equilibrium. For many reasons, I stopped painting as much as I used to. Since I started working in an Art and Craft Supply Shop, my desire to paint has been reignited and I am creating again. And that is a wonderful thing.

Todays prompt is "Educate us on something you know alot about or are good at. Take any approach you'd like (serious and educational or funny and sarcastic)" I KNOW that everyone has the ability to be creative.

Sunset.. Sunrise... All the same to him

I miss this place so very very much....

But my little man taught me a valuable lesson last week. He woke early, came into my room and said "Mum have you seen the sunset? Want to come and look with me?" (Sunset... Sunrise, it's all the same to him. It involves the sun.)

Beauty is everywhere. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you to look for it.

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Wordless Wednesday - sleeping

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My Pandora's box... part 1

The saying "opening Pandora's box" gets thrown around a lot. It comes from the myth of Pandora, and the box that she was given by the gods and told to never open it. Pandora tried to tame her curiosity, but in the end she could not do it; she opened the box and all the illnesses and hardships that the gods had hidden in the box started coming out. Pandora was scared, evil spirits sprung from the box and she fiercely tried to close the box as fast as possible, enclosing the only thing remaining inside - Hope.

This is the story of the opening of my Pandora's box.

This isn't a pleasant story so it comes with a warning. If you have been abused -mentally, physically, sexually - there are details in this story that may trigger you. Read it with care.

I was ambivalent about motherhood. My points of reference for parents were not shining ones that instil in you the confidence to go forth and multiply. Instead I had a whole lot of things I knew I didn't want to do... and not a lot to fall back on in regards to how to do it right. So armed with my HOW NOT TO BE PARENT guide I became a mother.

My daughter was truly an angel. She fed like a champion, slept through from 6 weeks old, did everything the "books" said, was a coffee shop connoisseur by three weeks of age, was so busy sleeping, or smiling, that my arms were often empty, or holding someone else's small person to give them some relief.

But with the birth of my daughter came the beginning of "postcards" from under the door of my Pandora's box. Postcards from my own childhood. Postcards from the place where I had very neatly folded down into tiny tiny pieces my life as a child... or to be more precise, from childhood until 23... stored and locked away so that I could re-invent myself into something - someone - shiny and new.

I kept slipping - sometimes kicking - those postcards back under that door. NO! was my usual internal response to these postcard moments. NO! That was then, this is now... the two aren't related, have nothing to do with each other, aren't connected, GO AWAY!

Then I had my son. I had no experience with little boys. I had a sister, no brothers. Maleness in fact alarmed and scared me. I didn't understand them.

The postcards came faster and my refusal to look at them or deal with them became frantic. I spiriled down into the abyss, where colour is washed out, almost non-exisitent. When you have no colour in your life, no light it feels like you are walking around in a fog, sounds, images, feelings are muted, or disappear completely.

When my son was 8 months old I went to the doctor. But I didn't tell her anything, other then I was tired, and cried a lot. I didn't divulge anything about my past, she didn't ask. I didn't offer. I was put on anti-depressants, and treated for Post Natal Depression.

It wasn't until nearly 3 years later that I began to realise that all the medication in the world wasn't going to stop the postcards. That, and the fact that I found out that I was going to have a baby sister. The man who I had all but deleted from my life was going to be a father again...

That was when my Pandora's box flung open, and the world that I had tried so hard to create shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Some days...

.... you can wake up and before your feet even hit the floor your in a cranky mood. PMT will do that to a girl.

So feeling like I could bite the head off the first person who came within 2 metres of me, I reluctantly got out of bed. Seeing it was the four year old who was the first person who came near me, I dug deep and offered him breakfast instead of decapitating him. He does look rather cute with his head - his dimples will do it everytime.

I had the big idea that I would print off some Christmas colouring in pages for A. Ten minute maximum kind of job right? WRONG - three hours (yes you read right!) later.... After selecting a candy cane, Santa, Bells, presents, I took my lap top to the computer desk and connected it to the printer. Nothing. Run through some diangositc tests. Still nothing. Seems my offspring - as in the two older ones - have successfully stuffed up both USB ports on my laptop. Great.

So I get on the kids computer, download some pictures, go to print them. There are no drivers for the printer. great. have a minor melt down, involving some yelling at the offspring for stuffing up my computer. search for drivers, and download them, which - because its on the kids computer - takes over an hour to download. Finally get the printer up and working, and manage to print off colouring in sheets.

A is very excited about them. So him, N and myself colour them in. Going to cut them up and stick them on the window tomorrow when we put the tree up. We had planned to do the tree on the weekend, but mummy had a few beverages on Saturday night and was feeling a tad seedy on Sunday....

L went out to the movies today. She also managed to be on the recieving end of the wrath of mummy - what else are mobile phones for if not to ring up your offspring and yell at them for stuffing up your computer? So I felt rather small when I picked her up this evening from the bus stop and she handed me a notebook to put in my bag, with special mum, and inside she had written :

A mum is someonethat understands your past, believes in your future and accepts you today just the way you are...

Mum, we have been through a lot in the past 14 nearly 15 years. Some good, and of course some bad. But you're my mum that's what our relationship is about. It makes it stronger. And we learn from them. I got this little notebook so when you're angry, or when we fight, I want you to look at this and remember no matter what I say or do I really do love you. Your Daughter, Laura

If mothers were flowers, I'd pick you.

There isn't anyone else that I would've asked to be my mother.

You're my role model. I look at you and think, I hope I will be a amazing as you... except for you talking with your mouthful!! hahaha. But seriously, I do mum, You're amazing.

What's funny is i remember both my brothers being born. Despite what I say about both of them, I do love them and would take a bullet for either of them. We are an amazing little family and we could live off each other.

I remember when me and Al broke up. And I went to my room and cried. You came in and just held me while I felt like my heart had been ripped out... Thank you for being the one I could count on.

You know how they say you get wiser with age? I reckon it's true. That or we're losing our mind! haha. I feel like I do get wiser each day but I think the most past is cuz you influence me. I love you mum.

As I read these beautiful words, I started to sob. USB ports? who cares... Really... In the big scheme of things it is so not important.

So some days.... when you feel like you are cranky before you even get out of bed - end off pretty damn amazing.

epiphanies...

As I said in a previous post, I have been reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. And honestly, there are times when I think she has downloaded my brain!!! There have been so many times where I read a paragraph of what she has written and thought, I have actually felt/thought/consider/comtemplated just that. The difference being that in many cases I have not acted on those feelings/thoughts/considerations/contemplations....

But I have started to.

As I was driving to catch up with a friend today for lunch I became aware of how I was feeling... and I was feeling happy. The epiphany was I feeling happy because of me. No-one else had made me feel happy, was the instigator of my happiness, the creator of my happiness or the cause. Just me... feeling happy for being... in my own skin... breathing.. alive...

I felt like this...