Child's Play

                                                               Artist: Joe Cartwright

I've been going back in time these days. Aka time travel which is rather nice as I can travel to past or future. It feels a lot like the Wonka factory elevator!  I've been looking at the ways in which I played as a child.  Part of that exploration is due to the Julia Cameron's book, The Artist's Way, which I'm currently making my way through.  She'd asked the question a few weeks ago about childhood which led to the question of how we played.

Lovely Day!

 

I don't have a single photo from our day...I have a brand-new camera and I'll confess, aside from charging and putting in the batteries and SD card, the camera has gone back to the box.  I confess I generally save my Christmas gifts, no matter how early they are given, for Christmas.  My phone makes the most awful photos, so I don't use for general photography as a rule.  Off subject all this talk of cameras, except that I wish I'd had the new camera with me today.   

I don't know that I've mentioned it overmuch, but John's anxiety has increased to the point that he is very reluctant to leave home unless we are solidly in the middle of the rut we typically travel, which means we go to church and Katie's and pretty much nowhere else these days.  I've talked to him about his anxiety and how it's affecting two of us and not just himself, but he steadily refuses to take medication.  I have urged him to try the Vitamin B supplement our former doctor put me on when I was suffering with so much anxiety and panic attacks and I've noticed he's been taking it routinely this week, but will he do it next week?  There's the real question.  I sort of nagged him gently for the past week and we got out of the house.

November

I've just been making out my list of goals for this month (it's November 1 as I write this) and while I say I am not going to be sharing those goals.  I did think I'd share some of my favorite things for November.  I am not mentioning Thanksgiving on purpose.  It is a favorite, but I feel it is a stand-alone for November, sort of the gateway into the whole holiday season, so you won't find me mentioning it here.  I'm reserving those pleasures.

Here's what I'm going to be doing to make November a cozy and memorable month...

Dream Editor

 

                                             "Lucid" from the Dreamborn series by Kyraith

Several years ago (oh so many!) my daughter Amie taught me a lesson...And it's one that I keep repeating to myself now and then, just because I need constant reminding.

We were waiting on the bus.  Amie was 16 or 17 at the time.  "What would you do if..."  I think this particular morning the subject was "you were to win the lottery."  Amie was lavish in her dreams.  She treated herself and family to many needs and a great deal many more wants.  She traveled and ventured and did oh so many things.  Then it was my turn.

Fairy Tale Life

I was doing some rather mundane household chore the other day when I suddenly thought, "I'd kind of like a fairy Godmother..." 

Mama bought a set of books for us children when we were far too young to read.  She ordered some classics and among the set was a book of fairytales.  Grimms Fairytales as it happens and let me assure you that the authors' name was a fit description for the tales told therein.

And Then...I Remember What I Know

 

Things were going so well.  I've been riding on the wave of my newfound confidence and joy.  I've made a good start on losing weight.  I am adding good things back into my life.  I have been filled with a sense of abundance instead of the fear and worry I tend to lean on when it comes to finances.  I felt I was writing better.  I was enjoying my (admittedly feeble) artistic attempts.

And then it started.    

A Room of My Own

 

Tuesday:  John is gone today.  As in all day today and it would truly be a shame to do no writing at all.  I spent the morning out shopping, the fun sort, where I wandered Hobby Lobby and Goodwill and TJ Maxx...but now that I'm home, and I still have a whole afternoon alone...Writing and putting my feet up is what appeals most.

The following will likely be written as a random post, but the sections are somewhat connected.

I Am a Poet

Granny had a grey vellum bound, thin volume of "101 Best Loved Poems" printed in the early 1930's.  I found it on her bookshelves Granny was my original 'lending library'.  She had volumes and volumes of books and allowed us grandchildren to borrow them to take home.   I borrowed that book of poems over and over again.  I read Walt Whitman and John Greenleaf Whittier and Robert Lowell, Edgar Allen Poe, Edgar A. Guest...I loved reading those poems and often kept the book for a month or more, copying out my favorites to read through again and again.

When I was 13 or 14, I had an English teacher who was a true mentor and birthed in me the first real inspiration I'd ever had.  Lynn Smith Campbell taught the junior high English classes.  One quarter of that years must have been writing and composition.  It was this class that sparked my inner writer.

Abundant Thinking

Over the past three months, I've had this unshakeable sense of abundance in my life. 

Let me make a few things clear very quickly here.  I am not going to discuss money in the same way that I have in the past.  I am not going to tell you how to stretch a dollar or make a meal go further or how to cut back.  I am not about to share a bevy of affirmations.  Nor am I about to delve into vision boards and feng shui.  

I'm talking about an internal shift.

Imprinting Our Home

 

Many years ago, I had a dear friend who changed her furniture around at least five times a year.  She lived in a modest home and at some point, every room except the bathroom and her beauty shop were switched around routinely.  Her living room was in every single room of the house.  A hallway might become a dining room, a bedroom might become a living room, her living room might turn into a dining room.  She might have an eat-in kitchen or a dining space on the back porch.  Walls got painted whatever color struck her fancy and matched her furniture at the time.  She lived in her house, and she lived well.

Authentic

I've been using the phrase 'authentic' a lot lately, if not in the written words I put out, then in my own head, or in my journal pages.  This morning, I went to look up authentic, because while I thought I knew what it meant, maybe I needed a refresher in how it's defined.

Authentic: not false or copied or an imitation; genuine; real.  Worthy of acceptance. True to oneself.

That adds dimension to what I thought it meant...