In a Saturnine Mood

Sad, melancholy, depressed even. This is how i would label how i have been feeling beneath my efforts at happy expressions. I think that my July posts have been carrying this theme. It must be the weather.

I have been learning that there is always a shadow and somehow it will always show up. Part of living life.  It is woven into existence -- the ups with the downs. In order to nurture soul i must let things be without judgment. It forces me to introspect...distilling what truly matters and being brave enough to turn away what is not. 

What gives me comfort is being detached from the usual: family, friends, even church. It is a wrestling match for myself alone. 

For the Children in Our Lives

The Heart of a Child

Author Unknown

Whatever you write on the heart of a child

No water can wash away

The sand may be shifted when billows are wild

And the efforts of time may decay

Some stories may perish, some songs may be forgotten

But this graven record --- time changes it not

Whatever you write on the heart of a child

A story of gladness or care

that heaven has blessed or earth defiled

Will linger unchangeable there...

Days Like This

Taking off from a song written by Van Morrison...

Feeling the blues, not just today but for some days now. Good for those whose mothers did not paint a picture-perfect grown up world  for them. Much as parents want to give the best they can, protect the children as much as is possible...each one will have to go through tough times. This is good reason why when good days come they have to be seared into our memory --- something to pull out for when the days are not good.

It is grace to be prepared to face the rough of life. And it is grace to know that such times do not last.

Relax

Relax. My note to self. Small irritants here and there have paid me a visit in my otherwise orderly world. I know that such are the stuff of living. Things do not always behave as i think they should. Already the lid has been blown open and i have said a mouthful. Ugly. 

I was once told, in case of inner disturbances, to find someone who could bear my ranting --- that i may be able to discharge, process, hear my own thoughts --- lest an explosion ensues. I tried just that but that, too, had become an additional irritant. Nobody was available to have that girl talk. Hmmm. Even that blasted rail transit i was in conked out and i had to evacuate along with the others. Not a single thing was going right. 

That was yesterday. Today i napped to my heart's content. Woke up to have a chimichanga. I have decided to befriend what irks me. 

Textures of Our Lives

These are some of the textures which caught my eye the other week. Some are smooth and aged by time, some remain coarse yet still beautiful. Some are hardened and quite indestructible. Some are refined by the continuing impact by the elements. 

Now i go inward. What is the texture of my life...my heart...my relationships?

Grace & Gratitude

Today. It is not my birthday. I did not hit the jackpot. No special occasion or event -- yet i feel good, and special. I breathe easy. 

Last night i hit the road -- literally. In my excitement to go to the spa to retrieve my mobile phone which fell from my pocket, i ran to the cab and on the rough asphalt -- did a grand nose dive, scraping both my knees and my hands. It hurts up to now. Of course, my ego was also bruised because i had an audience -- a group of students walking by, the cab driver, and the hotel staff.

With all the scrapes i have --- my awareness of life is even more amplified. I could have been ran over were there had been an on-coming vehicle. I could not easily regain my bearings as i pinned down my own hands to protect my head. Some drama: i told my husband who was with me all the while that he could have lost me. I joke. But i truly get it that had not grace been supplied, it would have been the case.

Seemingly negative --- but positive.

Grace. Gratitude.

Chrysalis

Ephemeral, delicate chrysalis. You once housed the butterfly that has moved on to assembling another cycle of its life. Once you encased a dream. Once you provided protection from the harsh elements -- shielding the yet premature one, unripe to be unleashed. 

I believe our Creator graciously gave us things of nature to learn from. 

Somehow potential disturbs us. We come to a point where we feel we can contribute more. The unrest in our being is like an itch that won't go away until it finds expression. The ever powerful question "What on earth am i here for?" rings loud. 

I have all these crazy ideas and a flurry of desires. I have my plan A's, B's, and C's. Yet i must be patient with my dreams. I will give birth to them. In the proper time.

The World Through a Child's Eyes

"Aelita’s art has a raw power that leaves viewers with a majestic impression of pure talent unearthed. Magnificently unrestrained, she channels a curiosity and vivacity so strong that it can easily be felt through her paintings, almost as if it constitutes a tangible force in the world."

"Yet despite all her fame and international travel, she continues to maintain a child’s innocent perspective, letting her non-judgmental, hectic perceptions and fantasies spill out into her art in a passionate flurry of color and form. What results has a whimsical sense of freedom and movement, as if anything could happen at any moment – and that, if it did, we would all be ready to jump in and engage with whatever it might be."

-- Agora Art Blog

Now, if we could only look at our own world the way this child does: with curiosity, vivacity... pure, non-judgmental... passionate, and free. 

http://lifeisreallybeautiful.com/tag/child-prodigy-painter/ http://www.aelitaandreart.com/aelitaandre/Home.html http://theweek.com/article/index/216057/is-a-4-year-old-australian-the-next-picasso