Monthly Archives: February 2016

I Want


Write a poem — of at least 5 verses — where each stanza begins with the words “I Want” and in which you share your deepest longings, the things you are afraid to want out loud. Remember, show vs. tell. Use the senses. Paint vivid pictures with words.

I want..
What do I want?
What do I really really want?
So indecisive. Drives me insane.
Make your mind up woman.
You’ll be dead soon.
Or lose your mind and not remember any of it.

I want to matter to someone.
In such a way I’m not so bloody awkward.
Where I don’t have to explain and re-explain myself.
Where I don’t have to apologize over and over.
Even when I didn’t do anything wrong.

I want to be known.
So that my heart is seen.
Imperfections aren’t judged. We all have them.
They like me for me and it doesn’t stop.
I don’t have to preform or be perfect.
I can just be me.
Even silly me and still be valued.

I want to be included.
I don’t want to be shut out.
I want the world to see we are one people.
That nobody be left out.
Everybody belongs.
Nobody is better or worse than anybody else.
If we all knew that deep within.
It would change everything.

I want to be loved.
I don’t want to earn it.
I want it because it’s a basic human right.
That all people deserve to be loved.
Just because.
Not having to reach some level of perfection.
I want all to be seen as precious.
Without anything added or taken away.
Just as we are.

That’s what I want.




I Want To Fly Mr Muse


I am behind in my writing. Original 30 days but I am plugging away. I have wanted to give up. It’s going to be raw and I answer with what I feel able to do with it. Second part was supposed to be funny or a complaint.. It isn’t either. But it is where my heart is atm. Real and raw. It’s me.

What bothers and irritates you most about your writing process? What are your limitations and annoyances?

The distractions, the frustrations of technology. Shutting down that comes when your body won’t do what you want it to do. I seem to need props. Inspiration in the tank. I have to be alone. I have to make myself do it. I have to be committed. I need to put aside other things. I love music and I cannot easily listen to it anymore as I write. To hear it loud enough I have to press my (in the ear) headphones into my ears and hold them there.. So I cannot use music anymore properly as I write and there isn’t anything I can do to change that. My kids do not always recharge the family lap top or they are using it when I want it. I share a house with other people, not only my kids. So its not always conductive to writing. I tend to talk to myself while I write. It can annoy other people. Also if I get up and pace. Or take pics or print something or carry my lap top around. I do some weird stuff. Other people are inconvenienced. 

Deafness inconveniences other people already so it’s depressing when your writing does that too.. I have to be stubborn with it. Lock myself away. Be at peace with my creativity or what comes out of me. I do not have many outlets for my self. So I would close up completely without something. So I give myself more freedom with it than anyone else may do with their writing. My voice however it comes is sometimes all I feel I have to give.
I suppose my writing isn’t seen as important to anyone else. I mean I do not make money with it. It isn’t a career just personal interest. So it takes second or third or fourth place etc.. It isn’t something anyone else much asks me about so I am very alone with it. I know that has tended to make my writing very self focused. I do not leave the house much or go anywhere interesting or even see others often. So yes that I can write anything of interest at all is rather a miracle. I have to bypass everything else to do it. Because if I focused on all that isn’t happening in my life I would give up completely on life itself not just writing.
I am doing a current writing course this writing is part of. Some of it is orally via recordings. Spoken meditations. Extras I miss out on.. I always miss out on something. I have to keep going despite it. If I groan and get frustrated about it I stop. I waste even more time. I’m not the same as everyone else. I have to accept that. I have to let go of all I cannot do. And focus on what I can do and use what is available to me.
Haha right now I want to sing really loud.. Its a release thing along with my writing. It blows out the crap inside.. Expressions tend to be loud because I have had to be. I know the opposite of not hearing is silence but I regularly have noise in my ears and head so like I am always trying to speak over the noise I tend to be loud in body too. Being deaf I sing even louder than normal people and its not pretty.. I am most likely tone deaf. It be off-key.
Other people in the room atm so yeah right now I have to keep it inside me. Not being able to communicate like the majority I work harder at the things I can do. I just give up on what doesn’t work. So any frustrations that happen to my writing life can feel heavier burdens.

Write a comedic letter of complaint to the Muse (or the High Council of Muses). In this letter, list all your annoyances about your writing process. Request the help you think the Muse Committe owes you with the process.

Hi Mr Muse.
Yes it’s me here. The loud one. The persistent one. The deaf one. The one who could so easily, so very easily give up. Sharing my best writing device with family even as I write to you. They did not recharge it and the keys stick to my fingers and its just a little gross. I think I deserve a new lap top Mr Muse. A flash new lap top of my own. So I can write better, easier and with all the flash new mod cons that come with expensive new lap tops. Surprisingly I still have so much to say and the better I am prepared and fitted I can do it I believe and surprise everyone even myself.
I have almost raised 5 kids. I have been patient a long time for the pay backs to being a mother, unpaid taxi driver, frustrated struggling almost afraid to call myself artist…. etc
I would do more writing. I would be here more often. I might even write a best seller. One that sold so many copies that I could easily repay you back for this little request. I believe I have a calling. A gifting if you will. That with the right support will spring board me to heights I have yet to see. My only other request is help with the journey. Some encouragement goes a long way. I feel for a long long time I have struggled on alone. Be it an unseen guide with me. GOD. Which keeps me going I can tell you.
But humanly and socially I need human contact even the written kind suffices. Some words of hope and inspiration, some help. People that can give me encouragement because I need it. I have needed it so badly. So very badly. It’s humbling to the point of breaking me down to keep asking. To keep begging. To keep looking for it. Because it wears me down hoping.. Desiring and the waiting for breakthroughs.. The endless waiting. If I had even just a little more wind beneath my wings I could attempt things I have never done.. fly so high. I could take off.. It would change everything. I know it would. Please Mr Muse look my way. Hear my heart and give me the chance I have longed for. Scrap the new things even I know I have it in me. Just guide me with your wisdom. Take me under wing show me the skies and tell me I too can fly..
❤ Sharon



Fighting broken..


Sitting on her arse again.
If she got up. You’d see a bum print on her bed.
Pillows half pushed through the narrow gap between mattress and bed head.
That is where she sits and writes.
All her electrical devices surrounding her. Often on charge because she’s an Internet junkie.
Books and art implements covering the opposite side of her queen size bed for one.
Pens, papers, scissors.. You name it.. it’s there.
She needs to be surrounded by it to get anything out of the inside of her.
It won’t come out on its own.
Pity that isn’t really helping too much. Because she will buy more and more and more.
But she is writing more often now.
Head often in her hands.
Why am I writing again?
The stats say nobody much reads?

If only she could write in such a way people noticed but no matter how deep she dug and how painful or beautiful her truth it didn’t mean it would be seen. Yet it never stopped her.
Truth be told she was getting stuff out here and there.. That much was needed.
She’d go crazy if she didn’t. Crazier than she already was.
BUT…. A huge but in more ways than one. It doesn’t seem to help anyone else but her. Does it?

Ipad has overheated. The fan is cooling that down as she uses the lap top this time. She swaps between one and the other.
The left side of her writing ap is crowded by links to recent writings. She doesn’t even know how to keep her lap top writing ap tidy. Messiness she is well known for. Her hand writing is ineligible. Least you can read this typing. Her writing is literally her heart leaking out in her words.

She fights on though. Saying something somewhere. Even though she is not a good communicator. Actually she sucks at it. She will shy away from face to face. She sweats, anxiously and awkwardly stumbles through conversations. Getting away from them as quickly as she can.

Just to get out of her anything at all is a miracle. Procrastination could be her middle name.
She wants to make a difference. She hopes she can. But confidence is not her strong point. Perhaps the lack of it scares people away. She doesn’t write for that reason. To make people notice. She writes because inside she burns. Burns to tell it. Tell what exactly she does not know but she burns still. She already knows she isn’t good at explaining things. Heaven alone only knows some of it. But she knows not everyone tells it and she does so that to her is something. It is a strong point a something point. Not fancy she knows that too. She prays that between the lines something more is seen. So she trusts that unknown and lets it take her where it will. That unseen. And she keeps fighting on. She is a soul. She has words. She writes not based on who she and how she is but on what is deep inside her and what she has to give. That strength that fights on and keeps coming out the more she uses it. That types on and doesn’t let outer stop the inner. Despite the lack of audience. She fights on. Despite often times having nothing inside to write from. A feeling of nothingness that brings forth something.

There is the miracle right there. So she keeps on keeping on.

She is smiling. The sun shines in her window. The words have been written. Another writing to file away and another one to share. A burden seems lifted. Effort recorded. Even as her methods remain the same and/or get worse.

Than as she checks her mobile.. A message.

She opens it up. Words on a tiny screen say “beautybeyondbones liked your post”… her smile grows wider.. That’s all she needs to keep on fighting..

Steel enters her soul. Her brokenness is her gift to the world and she does the only thing she knows to do. She shares her very soul through it.





I don’t write certain things. I don’t want to see myself saying them. Or be heard saying them. God knows though even the things I do not say. I changed my poem today. Not a good idea to write monthly cramps. Changed to outward and inward pressing. Cramps are pressure. LOL I was creative in the saying!

I had nothing in the tank today. Nothing in yesterday. I just wanted to sit and watch tv. Switch off. I felt heavy. I looked around at my creative things and they held no interest for me.

So I prayed a little. Not a lot. Not for hours. But I know it helped because I did something creative.

I did rewrite a poem again too even after I initially hit post.. including my faith. I truly believe that is where my inspiration comes from so I cannot not put it in what I do. I KNOW well what is of me and what isn’t of me. I know that anything of faith will turn some people away and those who are different of faith or don’t think I have faith will turn away too. But you know if anyone wants to persist and they don’t have much to give or feel they have much to give, or are direction-less. I can at least tell them how I do it from where I am. I already know I am not noticeable in what I do so maybe nobody will care what I write about. But I do need to say it otherwise it’s not obvious that all this hasn’t stopped me. There is something in that. Either craziness or I am aware of more than just me. People cannot say they haven’t seen me out there. I am persistent. Even if I am ignored. So either I have nothing worth saying or I have something worth telling.

I have to say huh. I tend to think that what I have written sounds the same as it always has. But at least I am saying something. So much will pass away at the end. What remains and what is priceless is what the heart does. I think heart etchings or heart produced anything is unforgettable. People remember what touches the heart. It touches you. Heart goes to heart. Oh how that keeps me going even if I cannot see it touching people. I rely a lot on the unseen.

If people really knew my weaknesses anyone would see better my strength. That is why I do it too. I want people to know the strength I tap into is very very REAL. It is very good. The rewards for me are knowing I have done it. Enjoying it. The joy that comes and the acceptance of life no matter how it is panning out. There is peace in my soul when I create and express myself. I don’t get paid for what I do. I don’t get recognized a lot. I do not have any important documents to show for what I have accomplished.

It’s just this.. Words. Writings. Soul ramblings. Things left behind that share my heart, spirit, soul and life. Anybody that sees my home life would see. Clutter. Introvert. Too much coffee. An extra loud person. Laziness and procrastination. Indecision. Lack of focus. Hoarder and the list goes on. And if that is ALL they see they will and have turned away. Ignore me. Not pay me any attention. Delete me. Un-friend me. Pass me by.

Yes I bypass a lot myself. My weaknesses in favor of His strength. It’s where I see and know God best and it gives me unbelievable hope.  If God is seen when we are weakest, there is nowhere HE can’t be seen. If you have well known faults people can’t even accept you for and yet God hasn’t abandoned you WOW what does that say about Him!! There really truly is nothing to fear. We need never fear what we are not. Our imperfections can even be vehicles for HIM to reveal himself to the world. 

 Even at the cost of what people think. I use my weaknesses. God has said his strength will be made perfect in my weakness. So I take full advantage of that and find joy. Check the bible out. It’s in there!! 2 Corinthians 12:9 

This little canvas is just a practice canvas. Testing out my new artist handmade stamp. How putting text and a stamp on a canvas would work and how best to make it stand out. What mediums to use to do so.  How gelatos worked on canvas. That  sort of thing. But when I look at it as it is. It inspires me because it’s exactly how my life is. Simple, messy, cluttered, yet colorful, stand out presence, spirit, faith, not hiding…. So when I look up from my lap top while typing this out. I can see it right in front of me.


It’s OK


Write a letter to your shadow, your alter ego, your darker side, or the parts of you that you have repressed in favor of your more socially acceptable persona. Try to include the reasons why you disowned these parts (or characters) and propose a reconciliation.

Not really a letter but I am speaking to myself. Definitely speaking to parts that have been repressed. Mistreatment of myself in any form that has hemmed me inside. I just find these words it’s OK to have great power in their simplicity. I think I have desperately needed to hear them for a long long time. I need to stop waiting to hear them from outside myself but to hear them deep within. To believe in them in my innermost self. It’s how I am created by the ALMIGHTY after all.

It’s OK

It’s Ok.
It’s Ok to feel all the feelings you feel.
Your not damaged or weird or awkward or clumsy.
Never too much.
You are enough.
Your beautiful.
You swear darling if you have too.
You cry rivers of tears so you can swim to the other side if you have too.
You laugh as loud and as long and as deliriously as you wish.
I love you. I love you.
You are precious even in your mess. In all your imperfection you are perfect.
There isn’t another you in all the world.
In the silence and in the loudness. Your still you.
Your still you when you talk without breath.
Your still you when you sing too loud.
Your still you when you talk to yourself.
Your still you when your vulnerable.
Your still you if you need to share hard things.
Your still you when darkness overwhelms you.
You are precious always.
If you need to tell it every day. Tell it.
If you need to retreat. Retreat.
It’s Ok. It’s all ok.
Be you. Be you in full.
That is how you were born.
That is how you will die.
This is how you will live.
You do live darling.
I see you.
I hear you.
I approve of you.
I smile because of you.
I value your heart always.
I see your strength.
I see your courage.
In smallness. In largeness.
In dramatics or childlike.
In whatever way you choose.
Don’t be afraid. Just be you.
It’s ok.






Dark side of me..


Do you ever feel like more than one person inhabits you? Have you ever tried to silence the troublesome, weird or darker side of you that makes you uncomfortable? Recall a few times when you have suppressed your multiplicity for fear of being misunderstood, singled out or rejected.

Yes it does feel like that at times. The other side of me that worries about why things are the way they are. The side that focuses completely on dark stuff. The whys? The if onlys? The one that dwells on every past rejection and short coming I have and how it all points back to big bad me. That looks at the people who do not come near me and seem to stay away. I shake my head. In those moments I feel terribly much a reject. Throwaway. Basket case.

The dark side of me would just want to stop and close up shop. The dark side of me would say to hell with all those people who don’t know me and judge me without mercy. I would not normally say that kind of thing. I am more a stand back person. Hold my tongue. Forgive. Move on. Let go. Say anything else as opposed to how I really feel. Avoid face to face in the first place. Do not focus on the problem. But the whole of me has suffered because I do not say it. Do not speak about it. Do not let it out.

The dark side of me would say ‘Fuck off’..

The spiritual side of me wants to stay positive. Even when I share it all I would NOT use swear words and I might hold back some. THIS IS A BIG CHANGE TO WRITE LIKE THIS. Why deny I feel it? I am human. I do swear sometimes. I should not be afraid to write that. Why hide it? My family do not swear. My Christian family that is do not that I can hear. Not out loud, not publicly. I could imagine what they think if they saw this. I don’t think many read what I write so this won’t be a problem for them lol unless someone else says ‘Hmm your sister or daughter or relative is umm swearing on her blog’ and than they read it because of what someone else said. Few people ask my opinions on anything. And my deafness robs me of most anything else I could say because you just don’t talk much to people when you cannot hear them and they don’t talk to you much anyway. Never very open in our family about things. Very much surface stuff. Day to day stuff. Not hardly ever a deep and meaningful. Which is probably why I rarely say anything to them or they to me. Different levels.

Yes there would be a bitter side of me. A side that would sing. “What about me? It isn’t fair. I’ve had enough now I want my share… “ etc.. The song Moving Pictures sang.. Dark side feels cheated. Yes I know I could do more. I have been told that plenty of times. But a lot has happened I have had no control over and whether people even know, care or understand how it affects you. It does affect you. Darkness is real and you do face it even if you are light dweller.

I have not intentionally silenced that side. I think in Christian terms we say we are forgiven and forgive others and that’s about it. Of course people are encouraged to tell their testimonies. How Jesus saved them.
Sorry that is a little tongue in cheek. Sometimes there is so much talk about anything else but how we are ourselves. You can almost disappear completely. We talk about what we SHOULD do right. We talk about what GOD did but not really about the worth of a soul and see that a soul faces difficulties and help them get through it to the other side. The hard stuff. It all seems to be about using it for good.. Our calling. Which is what we all want in the end. A purpose. Perfection kills I can tell you that. But talking about our stuff ups daily it seems taboo. It is like you are under a gag I guess but nobody talks about it. So perhaps that is why so few of us get to the end as we could or should. Why so many suffer so much more than need be. We judge. I judge myself. I judge others. Its what we are taught. It’s wrong. We are called least. It’s so not about us. It is all about HIM. God. And to even think about talking about ourselves. That is evil. I am being evil here now. :/

You just kind of self-destruct in private and in front of Christian counselors and mental health professionals and talk about prayer needs or GOD alone. All like-wise people celebrate that with you.. Tell the hard stuff its different. Nobody wants to see your dramas, dirty washing. Heart. Hmm.. That hurts to write that but its true. Real and raw is too messy. If you think about we base our whole relationship on JESUS getting real and messy and ugly and well he went all the way to the end and we even know the raw details and talk about that a lot. Comes to us. Nope. Let’s just gloss over it.

I KNOW what happened at the end of Jesus earthly life and what that means because it’s all we talk about. It has probably been most of what I talked about for a very very long time. But humanly speaking it’s not the after life yet and the darkness still comes every day and that is real. Sooooo lets be honest in the now!!

I can truly understand people who take their lives leaving messages for the loved ones to find. They obviously couldn’t say it alive could they and what has happened has affected them to the point they gave in completely to the darkness. It has happened a lot with me wanting to give up. I have fantasized about doing that many times. Speaking beyond the grave because I have felt so unheard even though I am alive.. Because it has got very dark, very lonely and I have felt very invisible and even though I write it over and over and over.. Nobody much reads. Even now today after years of putting my heart out there in public and persisting on and on and on..

That’s truly a bummer hey.

I think people just seem blind and deaf to the deepest heart cries because its messy. I believe faith in GOD has pulled me out of the worst of it because I talked to GOD about all the hard stuff when there was no one else to tell or that I felt I could tell.. I did not ever feel judged. I did not feel guilty or black hearted. Just loved and that GOD has immense patience and he does have very very deep and unconditional love for the black sheep, the multi colored sheep and the weird and dysfunctional sheep..

It is very much what drives me now. To speak of the darker side of me and to be honest with you: my prayers or talks to GOD might be very different too after writing this.. GOD sees it all any way.. Dark sides of us.

There is very little truly dark stuff said and it needs to be said.. But for me it is more than I have ever spoken of it before.. quite like this.



Small But Mighty..


DAY 10 – DAILY PROMPT: Tell us a story, a children’s story that is filled with adventure and make believe that cannot exist anywhere besides your imagination.

There are no right or wrong answers here, this is your chance to be a child again, making things up as you go, with no need for any rhyme or reason. We cannot wait to fall into your world.


Well it’s a children’s story with make believe. 


Taylor James was small but she was mighty.

Everyone under-estimated her. If she were born an animal they would call her the runt of the litter. Her life seemed to be of little value, another mouth to feed. One of 6 kids. Parents were poor. Life at first was a struggle for Mr and Mrs James and their family. But when Taylor realized what she could do. Life got happier.

She had magic powers.

Wisdom beyond her years, could tell what was in someone’s heart and she could make grownups forget or remember! Anyone for that matter.

Like if she took a math’s test even fail it she could make the teacher forget she failed. But she never had to do that. Taylor was smart.

She helped kids remember answers and everyone passed with flying colors. Top class in the school! Nobody ever felt dumb and forgotten. Taylor made sure of that.

Kids loved her. She had no fear of bullies. Because she could make them forget they had a problem with her. In fact she made it hard for bullies to stay around her and her friends at all!!

Teachers might have had other thoughts in their hearts but every day Taylor was able to make them forget or make them remember.

Forget what time school finished. Forget that lunch time was only for one hour. Forget who had detention. Forget people who came to class late. Remember party days were part of weekly school curriculum! Remember that kids could choose their own subjects. Remember to pass everyone at the end of year. Remember that all kids got rewards for turning up and kids could even help teach classes too.

School was fun! Kids wanted to go to school.

Her parents she loved of course because she was a good child. But she knew in their hearts that they thought she was a burden. She made them forget as often as she could. She made them remember to smile and not worry about things. She made them to remember how important it is to hug their kids every day. One after the other. 

But hearts are funny creatures. They seem to hold within them good or evil and no magic can completely take that away.

So if she used her magic daily her brothers and sisters and herself lived happier even if they were poor and she too could forget what was in her parents hearts. ❤

She just grew..


Recall your growth as an artist, or your awareness towards practicing your creativity and answering your calls to art over the last years. How has it evolved and what events prompted it to?

The sunrise, of course, doesn’t care if we watch it or not. It will keep on being beautiful, even if nobody bothers to look at it. @ThePoetryPorn

This is for a prompt in my writing course. 30 days of writing myself alive.
Third attempt. Two I have already scrapped. Having fussed over them for quite some time too.
I tend to write a certain way and I want to change that.

I want to challenge myself. Not write like I always write. Although generally my writing has come easier. This one has not but than change takes time yeah and I think you are learning more in the stretching. I am a completely creative person in my life right now. Apart from being a single mother this is what I put my heart and soul into daily.

It takes a lot of editing to fit these words into this picture and get it looking the way I want. Yes my own photo! I love that I can do that. I took the picture this morning in my pjs! It had rained overnight so ha ha my pj bottoms got rather wet as I jumped into the garden to snap this rose. Beautiful long stemmed red rose though isn’t. My mother is the gardener. I blurred out the background by hand so it is a little rough. I want the text to be read as easily as possible. It might be all I get accomplished this morning. Now I want to share it here. My little soap box in the world.

Because I do such things as this. Working on more than just my writing but the presentation of it. I am not up to the main group. Fallen behind. But I am writing regularly and that to me is what this whole group is about. Wow and I still have 20 days to go!! Whoop whoop!! Loving it..

Writing is not enough for me. I need to have visual as well. I also continue to share it despite not having a regular audience I truly believe persistence working on my talents will pay off. Thank you to the faithful few. I think you will see that I am mentioning you in this writing.

You are the ones who stop to smell the flowers!

The wonderful thing about writing is. I can choose what I say and how I say it. Not only writing but thinking about how writing relates to what the prompt is. I have tried to share my experience with creativity and how it has evolved and this is very different to both my first two attempts. I am not going to re-explain my writing. I think leave it as it is. I tend to over explain EVERYTHING. And part of being a writer is letting what you write make people think. As an artist your work must speak on its own as you have created it and you must let it go once it is done. Even reading back through this I am amazed at how I write. I can see huge growth in myself.. It’s encouraging. I will put this out there into the big wide world and I am happy with it…



Confession time


DIG DEEPER: What do you perceive are your greatest limitations at the moment? They don’t necessarily have to be related to writing. What’s getting in your way of your fullest expression and your daily practice?

For the longest time I have been amassing a plethora of art and creative supplies to the extent it’s become an embarrassing habit. Only so many books you can read right? Only so many DVD’s you can watch? I was given bags of books and I have downloaded heaps of free e-books as well but I also head to second hand stores pretty regularly and I just find myself buying more things from time to time.

I am not reading near enough to continue doing this? I am not doing enough art to use all the creative bits and pieces I have collected though I do notice artist types are collectors. I just seem to have an insatiable hunger for surrounding myself with it and finding more and buying more. It seems that no matter how helpful a book might be or how much I want to read and study and learn from writers and artists and inspirational artifacts. Soaking it in indeed does feed my soul. I am just as soon looking for the next book, supplies or e-course and getting obsessed with researching it and reading reviews and buying it etc. The usage of it falls much lower on the list than finding it.

I think it started when my life got difficult. Art via expression and reading books fills in huge chunks of time that being deaf has left me with. Being lonely as a single mother and isolated when I find it difficult to communicate with others. My confidence shriveled away and when there isn’t many people to talk with and listen too you find other things to do and help you cope. I have tried to offload as I go along. I do bag up occasionally unused things and put them back into charity bins. I would be crowded in my bedroom if I didn’t do that. More and more I have clutter here and there in my bedroom.

My bedroom is my safe haven. My comfort space. My go to place. Creative portal. I am happy in my introverted world.


I also wish I could stop and use what I have and be honest with myself about what I really will not use. Read the books I have and keep reading them. Instead of search and seek for more. I do not know why I think I need more? I do not know why the addiction? I do not know how to stop that. I know when I am looking at things I am thinking.. I just bought a book it’s not even read yet? Why am I looking at this? Especially when new things lose their appeal quite quickly and only some are used enough. I think it’s like an addiction. Always seeking for that high that comes from getting something new but when you get it, than you need that high again. I do not know. Perhaps I have thought to myself. Some of these things are second hand so its not expensive. It doesn’t hurt to buy this.. It’s a bargain!

It limits me because I am easily distracted even moreso instead of using my time and resources more wisely and getting much more done. Like a hoarding thing. When I go to get rid of stuff it’s not easy to part with things. I can forget what I bought and pick up something only to have my daughter say. Mum you already have that. Very embarrassing I can tell you. 

I get overwhelmed thinking of all the things I have to use and enjoy and you don’t get to enjoy it at all when your busy collecting more. Need one of these and one of these to do that but when you get them you don’t even do that. You think of something else that you don’t have and your focus is on that other thing. Not a nice cycle. It’s not a nice thing to admit.

All this is happening and time is passing by.

Out of habit in the doing and using and producing therefore not enjoying the fullest potential in my creative life. Wastage. It’s not nice to say it but it needs to be said. It is uncomfortable to read it and maybe even MORE uncomfortable to share it publicly but I think you cannot change or see the need to change or work on something if you can’t see you have a problem to address in the first place..

Things have come to me as I walked away from the keyboard and thought on this subject some more.
There has been a void in my life. All of this above helped filled in the gap. I have used my art and expression to help communicate myself out in the world and to inspire myself to keep going. My creative life shares my faith and how God has helped me through. I just have to use the blessings and skills and knowledge I currently possess and be honest with all I do not need and trust that I know the difference and can let go of the need to hoard.

People say God should be enough. But we are not created to be on our own and I often speak about this because people have no idea how difficult life can be when you feel physically alone so much and you can be happy but sad about it at the same time. God himself said it is not good for man to be alone. I haven’t always been motivated or known how to best use my talents and I don’t naturally flow without prompting and stirring up my spirit. Lack of direction has not helped either but sticking to things does bring rewards and you get better at it. I need to set myself goals and not be afraid that I can produce and be happy in the doing.

Some people can just get up and go. They find it hard to sit still but I find it a challenge not to sit still. I am easily a lazy sod.

One thing I tell myself before I sign up to another course. Buy another book etc.. Is that this will one will be my turning point. The things learned, the skills taught, the wisdom gained. I will commit myself fully to doing it, reading it and these things will give me the tools and means to express myself better at the other end. I’m reassuring myself that another purchase and possession will be the best thing I need to go forward more confidently and just stick to a different more productive life. That this very thing will be the catylyst. 

Unfortunately no matter how determined I might be before buying or signing up. I am searching again not long after and not following through.


City to Outback


Create an adventure. If you live in or around a city, write about your life if you were to move to the remote country. If you live in a rural area, write about your life the first day moving to the big city. The world is a big place, both extremes deserve illumination.

((Used creative license here. Took this and wrote about my past and let it flow from that.. When I went from Victoria to Western Australia at age 14 and the huge change that was to my young life and our family. ❤ ))

For a 14 year old girl oldest of 4 children. It was a move I felt forced to make. Away from friends, leaving youth group and school and my pet pony was sold.

Other side of Australia seemed like another world away. And it was. Fitzroy Crossing was in the far north west Kimberley and on the other side of the continent. The only thing I knew about it was from a small write up in a library book my mum and siblings leafed through to find. No google back than. It did not say much at all. Police station, supermarket, hospital, road house and famous outback pub! Of course the major attraction was the river! A beautiful gorge Geike Gorge was situated not far from the township and people come from all over the world to see it and cruise its banks. It became a favorite place to visit in our time there.

It was extremely isolated. It would be an over two hour travel either way to the next town and there was nothing in between.. No shops, houses or anything from the road except I did love the beautiful boab trees that were scattered along the way. Amazing trees!! One boab tree about half way to Derby was so big and hollow inside it was once used as a prison holding cell!

One road in and one road out.

Ballarat could not be more opposite. Colder, green, winter was wet and we have a bad reputation about changeable weather, populated and even though considered a rural city. It has all the amenities of a much bigger city. The floor was cold when you walked on it. You could go clothes shopping!! You had access to health care.

Fiztroy Crossing is a majority aboriginal population. I do not think I had ever met an aboriginal person before at least I did not know anyone personally! It was a complete culture shock. It was hot, red dirt, no TV, lol that was in 1984!! I did not find that out till after we arrived. I would not have agreed to that AT ALL!! If you wanted to watch something entertaining it had to be on video cassette. I remember at one point a family friend every so often passed on a box full of mostly American sitcom recorded on video. I think we watched them and nearly wore out the videos every time it was our turn to view them. It was so different not having TV. You lost contact with the outside world. Radio stations became vitally important. The weekly newspaper was flown in or trucked in and were sold out pretty quickly.

No fresh milk. It all came in frozen or powdered. There was a local bakery that made fresh bread but sometimes the local baker got drunk or his workers did not turn up so there was no bread those days. You could buy bread frozen and kept in freezers.

The houses were ugly but had lovely big verandas to help keep them cooler.. Shutter windows, floor to ceiling to capture any breeze that might pass through. Some of the houses were on stilts as the mighty Fiztroy River which in the dry season could be just pools here and there would become a raging torrent flooding its bank in wet season and the whole town was surrounded by water.. Dusty. Everything seemed coated in dust.

For a teenager it was eye opening. I had to do my school by distance education. There was not a high school at that time. My younger brother and sister went to the local school. At least they had air-conditioning! Our house did not! Stifling temps during day and even at night it was hot at least for us!! Slept with just a sheet over you. Always fans to circulate the air.

Unfortunately only 4 days into our new life we had a family tragedy. My youngest sister at a welcoming picnic after church drowned in the river.. It has tied our family to that place forever. We no longer live there we are now back in Ballarat again. My sister was nearly five years old. My parents bravely stayed on for the next couple of years. It was very hard for them. They had committed themselves to serving as missionaries up there so they kept their commitment to the local people and to God.

How did I feel as a young person? It was bewildering. Life was slower up there. They had siesta time when the whole place seemed to shut down and people rested from the worst heat of the day.
The Aboriginal people were beautiful souls but seemed reserved to me. Very respectful of our family coming through such a tragic circumstance. The local people gathered around us. We hardly knew them but they supported us through such a horrible time. I remember huge thunderstorms that frightened the heck out of us as kids. My sister and I would drag our beds into the middle of the room so we were closer. It really sounded as if the storm was right over our heads and God was up there throwing his best at us. Heavy rains. Insects. Kind black hands that we gently shook every Sunday. Songs sang in local language over and over because thats the songs they loved! Sitting on seats that pinched your legs. Dogs wandered into the church service which was in an old stone and tin building without walls. Overhead fans whirring about.. I think for awhile we were just in shock. Shock at the loss.. Shock at the different culture.. Shock at our lives changing so dramatically.

I can see the deep dark hole where my sister was laid to rest and the mound of red dirt to cover her over again once the preacher said his thing. The crowd of dark faces who turned up that day was incredible because they didn’t know us. There was a deep respect for our loss you feel that even as a young person.. My little brother clinging to my dad. He was so insecure and cried out loudly whenever he could not find my parents. All the memories come rushing back. The heat. The flies. The faces that we did not know but kindly helped us through all the transition.

City to country. Different as day and night. It taught us to love and respect native Australians, see first hand how they have survived the stolen generation, injustice and past government stuff ups and how big and unique and beautiful our country is. It taught us community. It taught us the blessings that are modern amenities. Things like not having to travel to get to a hair dresser, see a dentist, go to a big chain supermarket and department stores, see a specialist, have your baby, flying doctors for emergencies. So much we take for granted.

That even in tragedy and hardship Australia is an amazing vast continent. In city and country we are indeed a lucky country and Australians are as diverse and unique as our land.. We pull together when hard times come.

(( Jones family 1984 November. In Perth.  On the way to Fitzroy Crossing.. My little sister Belinda still alive. Brings back many memories seeing this.. ))

((Famous Geike Gorge))

((Brooking Gorge))

((My mother, sister and brother.. at the back of the Primary School when the river flooded.. ))