The Artists Way

Dearest Reader

This blog name just isn’t working for me so I’m going to change it; I’m now thinking “A little bit of me”. After all its little bits of my thoughts or my life, excerpts from where I am at in any given moment.

Granted when I started it I figured I would be successfully writing a tell all about my journey with weight loss, my struggles but how I bravely overcame them with the resulting loss of kilos from all over my body. Well, it hasn’t turned out quite like that, not even remotely although I have lost 5.5kg’s and while that counts as achievement it’s very flexible with more gains than losses. Bloody menopausal body [okay that and  my penchant for chocolate].

I’m writing today’s post because it’s part of my ‘homework’ from  week one of The Artists Way by Julia Cameron – a course in discovering and recovering your creative self. I’ve never really believed in myself as a creative being but according to Julia my little artist is there inside me so I’m committing to putting in the work to locate her.

Task 8 was if you had 5 other lives to lead what would you do in each of them? This is one of the easier tasks options to choose from, some of them are somewhat confronting requiring a trip back down memory lane looking at past experiences I think best left in the dark but which Julia believes influenced the building blocks of my core negative beliefs and thus need airing out and dealing with. Anyway, my list of 5 are; a writer – as in a published author, a singer song writer, a nurse in stressful situations [kind of like Margaret Hullahan in Mash but without the added stress of Frank], a yoga instructor [how cool would that be] and a famous actress.

Then we had to review our list and choose one from it and do it! Hence this blog post, honouring my other life as a writer.

Perhaps by the completion of this course Julia will have unlocked my hidden writer artist.

The truth of the matter is I really like to write but find I write really well in my head but getting it out and onto paper [real or virtual] is often a difficult transition.

I try to meet some of need to write by having a blog – where I don’t post often enough - , by journaling – again which can be sporadic, and by writing letters. I’ve now got a few overseas pen friends and we converse via snail mail which really is a lot of fun and it’s exciting to empty the mail box of the junk mail and bills to find a handwritten letter addressed to you often encased in a fun colourful envelope.

Letters meet my love of reading and my desire to write quite nicely.

So, homework done; post written and now needing to be actually posted on to my page.

Next task, work out how to change my blog title....

Nameste

Breezi

Potato Peel Pie

I’ve just finished The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society, now a major motion picture.

I’d seen the shorts of this movie while at the theatre and I knew I’d love the book.

Which I did. It’s a delightful read and I felt such a connection to it that I read it at every available opportunity until within a short space of time I had finished it.

And now I’m in mourning. Grieving for those that I left behind when I closed the pages of that book for the last time. I’m going to miss all those characters and I feel a certain sense of emptiness – did the lawyer agree to let Juliet adopt Kit? How was the wedding of Juliet and Dawsey? Did everyone come? What did they think? So much left unanswered and I want more.

I am also left with the desire to start up letter writing, not just email which is great , but actual letter writing on paper with envelopes and stamps and trips to the post offic e. Then I want to expierence the indugent and anticipatory joy of checking the letterbox and the excitment of discovering a reply letter waiting for me. Then choosing just the right chair perhaps in the sun or in the evening by the fire to curl up in and read my letter soaking up the contents and the story contained within. Pen and paper at the ready should I feel motivated to reply.

Letter writing is such a thing of the past though I feel it is easily resurrected if there is a willingness to do so. Of course it requires at least 2 people.

Maybe I should jump onto the internet, google penpals who want to write actual letters and then email my interest to connect.

Inspired

Breezi’s spirit

The Adventure Junkie Gene

I don’t possess anywhere in my genetic makeup an adventure junkie gene. I use to think I did but it turned out I have a dominant wanna be adventure junkie gene masquerading very believably as a dominant AKG [adventure junkie gene].

The wanna be gene has got me into trouble many a time over the years thinking I really wanted to do something when turns out I so didn’t want to do it all. Sometimes facing my fear is a really stupid emotional stability destroying thing to do!

The latest adventure disaster was in fact only a couple of weeks ago when weekending in Queenstown I joined the group in doing the zip line. I looked at it; thought that looks like fun and indeed those who ventured before me were certainly having fun.

It wasn’t even a big zip line, just a flying fox type scenario where you get fired off at great rate of knots stopping only a short distance away where you stay suspended briefly before being about faced to enjoy a sedate return back to base.

Easy, right!

Yeah.........hell nah!!

From the moment I entered through the gate into space one to be harnessed up [I took the seated position harness] courage underwent an abrupt shake up and the wanna be gene stood up and stated that she wasn’t a real adventure gene then promptly vacated leaving me to face this on my own. All alone aside from the 2 adventurees also doing the ride along side of me; one of whom was my very bemused husband who was most definitely looking forward to his ride.

I was assured it was only a short ride, over way too quickly. So did not feel that way to me.

Upon being ushered through into the next area my breathing became rapid and my affirmations scarpered along with the wannabe gene and any semblance of courage.

Instructions were given on what to do and how to sit, feet up – I managed to get one leg up and watched as if from a distance when the other leg didn’t seem to want to go up...managed it eventually. My lovely instructor who by now was very aware of my borderline panic status was doing her very best to calm me down and was ultra cheerful but to be fair nothing at this point would help. I was near tears, about ready to scream get me out when someone pressed that bloody button and with a mighty scream torn from me off when went.

Witness testimony later revealed upon ejection from the platform my resulting scream drew the attention of everyone within immediate vicinity including those there for the nearby bungy jump [and is case you were wondering hell no].

When we stopped at the bottom waiting for to be turned for the return journey I let rip a stream of opinions relating to what just happened which were more a lot of ‘effs’ surrounded by occasional English.

Finally back on solid ground, through both sets of gates, harnessed gone I was safe and it was over. Well aside from the shaking, that took awhile to wind down. And the tears that had trickled a little and were still threatening took a wee while to disappear. Again witness testimony, but upon arrival back I was extremely pale and colour took it’s time to return to my face. I think it was a height thing, I don’t know what else to explain that level of terror.

You did it though I was told. You must be so proud of yourself they said. Well done on giving it ago they comforted. They also laughed, commented on what a good set of lungs I’ve got and so on. I took the humour in good stead and joined in on the laughter. To be honest though I would have loved a big hug, some sympathy and a good ole cuddle.

The thing is though, at the time I didn’t feel proud of myself and in fact I still don’t.

Yes I did it but I hated the whole experience, I would loved to have enjoyed it but my terror was very real and impacted on the rest of the afternoon – queue in Gondola [OMG going up] although loved the ride down. Forget the chair lift up to  the ride the luge down.

Yes I did it so maybe I should pat myself on the back but I don’t think I will anytime soon.

As I pointed out to someone, I know my limitations and I can work within them and I’m okay with that.

As for my wanna be gene, well she turned up awhile later and was all excited about doing the hydro attack ride.............................................................I was ahead of her there though as I was totally into that.......speedy ride on the lake and under it..............yep I was scared but in a thrilling way and I loved the ride.

It was only for 15 minutes but that was enough.

Wanna be adventure junkie gene – check. But I’m learning to work with that and still find ways to challenge myself that tickle my fear up a little without scaring the shite out of me.

Nameste

Breezi’s Spirit

Oh Woe is Me and the Chickens

There is a mighty mite infestation in the chook house. One chook has already died. I’m battling on all fronts to bring it under control with an end focus of total eradication. I’ve made headway in some areas but the little buggers just keep on coming. To top it all off I think [okay I know but I’m clinging to the security of denial] there are fleas in residence in the chook house also.  A quick check revealed both dogs are flea free, a small but gratefully received gift. This current wave of stinking hot weather followed by heavy rain followed by stinking hot weather is a major contributing factor.

That and our seemingly inability to keep the sparrows – mite carriers – out of my chook house.

A huge focused effort was put into, yet again, sparrow proofing.

Today in a complete mystery 3 of my 4 fake eggs have disappeared. Gone. Vanished. Aside from the 4^th egg being found out in the run the whereabouts of the others remains unknown. I have my suspicions on who the fake egg stealing thief might be.........a four legged gate jumping wheat stealing 1 year old puppy. Last seen looking guilty and avoiding eye contact on the right side of the gate near said chook house.

To make matters worse in regular maintenance and cleaning in the chook house those tiny not quite microscopic mites disguised as particles of dust find it hugely amusing to jump on board...ME! OMG! While they present no actual physical harm feeling them crawling around just freaks me out. Long showers and on occasion more than one consecutively are an absolute must. Paranoia has kicked in and a gentle  breeze skimming across my skin has me rushing to rub, swish and scratch in the attempts to annihilate any unwelcome uninvited creepy crawly damn bug.

So let me sum up the joys of my life in this current moment [total sarcasm there];

1.       the chook house has a mite [and flea] infestation

2.       one chook has succumbed to the onslaught

3.       3 fake eggs have been taken in a previously unforeseen theft

4.       I have particles of dust crawling around on me [as in mites]

5.       As much as I hate to admit it I am still on the defensive in the attack on mites

6.        And bloody annoyingly I think the fake egg thief  may have lucked out and stolen [as in eaten] a real egg, as there is no evidence I cannot confirm this.

7.       Sparrows are still getting in and I’m damned if I can figure out how.

And now it’s time to don my go into the chook house and clean out nesting boxes and spray again suit – gumboots, daggy pants, long sleeved top, gloves and a hat.  Given it’s 30 odd degrees outside it’s not comfortable but I’ll forgo creepy crawlies for a bit of sweat. After all my reward is a cleansing shower and yet another hair wash.

Why do I have chickens you might ask??

Well, it’s obvious isn’t it??

They are so much fun!

Nameste

Breezi’s Spirit