Category Archives: photography

A poem I wrote – Infant loss

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I am currently doing a free 6 week course at Future Learn called Literature and Mental Health via the University of Warwick. Current topic is “Speaking words we can’t find”. Asked to share – Are there any pieces of literature – old or modern, prose or poetry – that speak to you in the way that Katherine Philips’ poem speaks to Paula?

We have  been studying a poem by Katherine Phillips she wrote on the loss of a little baby boy which remarkably was written in the 1600’s.

I have also lost an infant baby boy. So this study is very very close to my heart. I was given a miracle of peace by God when I lost our baby infant back in 1997 which changed my whole life. For some strange reason I was easily able to talk about it too at the time but very few around me were available to me to listen to the extent I needed. So one day I got out my electric typewriter and decided to write about everything. I guess I just imagined I could do that all in one sitting. lol it isn’t possible of course. I eventually wrote 29 chapters.

But it is wonderful the very first thing I wrote was a poem. It was just a small piece of writing to lead into the actual main piece of writing which was the first chapter and so on. It was a miracle I wrote at all because I had three other little children to raise at the time I started and it came remarkably easy and I had never written a book before or since. I will add the link to this blog post to the university comment section to share it with others there but also because it was straight from a grieving mothers heart and I just see that it helped me to get it out, to see it in written form and others have been helped by it too. I have not edited it, it is the exact same form I wrote it. The very first thing I wrote before I typed up what is now the entire story. It doesn’t even have a title it was just the leading paragraph at the very start. To introduce the story. Again it is a miracle also this poem began it all because at that time I HAD never written poetry before either.

I have even kept it in the form first written. because as I have been learning in the course, the written form is also part of how we express our emotions etc.. It is religious in nature because my faith was exactly what was helping me through. All based on a miracle of peace from God through this terrible period when our baby son Tyler was born, became very ill when he was only a few days old and died at 8 weeks old from a heart/lung abnormality.

See in the address up top of this blog.. eternalpeacechild. It is all linked to what I experienced through this loss. My online name is peacechild4.

I have not ever published the book.. I did share the chapters on face book and with family and friends in written form and on a few websites but not as book form or even ebook form. Poem in bold so you know what is the actual poem..

 

I wrote this poem, a mother coming to terms with the death of my child.
I have seen much that I have had no control over. I have suffered the weight of feelings I can’t escape.

What I experienced alongside my child has survived.
So precious that I had to write this down.
Although nothing can take away what has happened.
I know throughout his life there was meaning.

If my son received the inner peace throughout that I have been given through my faith in Jesus Christ.
Then all that I saw, all that my child went through, that has produced my lack of fear to write, brings hope.

I have the calming reason to believe, that from my experience of peace. I am given assurance of how much more Tyler deserved it, and how a loving God would give all the more to him.

In my impression of Tyler’s story I endeavor to share how he received what I now hold onto.

Tyler’s Story never ends.
It just begun in a different place.



Be at Peace.. 

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 When your humanly fragile.

It’s too hard.. 

It’s humanly impossible. 

Your weakened.

Whatever has happened. 

Straw that breaks the camels back..

Something small that seems to tip the scales.

Feel the weight of everything. 

In that moment.

Could just collapse.

Give up. 

But… 

Instead.. 

You switch to auxiliary power. 

You pray with tears or anger. 

Maybe only one word.

Help!!!

For in that moment.

You just can’t.

Than it comes. 

Slowly like a blanket.

Laid gently on your shoulders.

You sense a release. 

Hope rises ever so gently in your chest. 

You breathe again.


 

Searching for Angels

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DAY 24 – DAILY PROMPT:
Go somewhere completely outside of your normal routine to write today. Switch it up, try new locations, new music, new people, and new surroundings. Compare the output of your creativity with that of your usual places. Does that help? Does it hinder?

I went to the local cemetery, the old one lol because I have for a long time admired those beautiful angel statues  artistic type people take pictures of. Stone angels. It was a very hot day as I wandered around looking for angels. As always I didn’t give myself much time so I was not able to have a really good look around. Though surprisingly I did take in a lot!! There is a section for buried soldiers from the Eureka rebellion (famous in Ballarat) which I would love to go back to visit. I didn’t actually know it was here in our city like that. Learned something new from this exercise.

I have been to the newer cemetery where our baby son and my grandmother is buried but not this one. I have written a poem about my journey and what I found below along with my own photograph. I was surprised how well kept the place was. Gardeners and maintenance men walking through doing this and that. Beautiful gardens too. Smack bang in suburbia surrounded by cars driving around. But there are some lovely big trees planted. I wonder if they were planted back when many of the oldest graves were dug? I try to imagine what it would have been like in the olden days. Wagons and horses tied outside. Dust everywhere. People thronging in hats and coats or hats and everyone in black clothing or period type. Looking out at the gold fields which were part of our cities history and would have been I think surrounding Ballarat. We have two mountains that sit along the horizon and outskirts of our city. I always think as the old timers stood at the grave side they would be looking out at Mt Warrenheap and Mt Buningyoung. Some very elaborate grave stones dotted here and there. So there were rich people buried in this place perhaps they did well on the gold-fields? A lot of religious icons. I love that whole families were buried in plots together. Being the mother of a baby son who died at almost 2 months. It was heart breaking to see many little babies’ names mentioned buried in with their families. It was nice that they did that though.. Obviously infant mortality was much higher in the past.

I did sit and write after I’d finished taking photos. Near the front entrance in the shade looking across the beautiful manicured rose gardens. Some graves were so close to the street. That was hard to see. I know they are dead but to see cars whizzing so close to their final resting place just seems disrespectful.

I didn’t really have time to reflect with my writing while there. It was too hot to stay in the sun too long and uncomfortable even in the shade. But it was delightfully encouraging to be in different surroundings and I was noticing things more. Thinking of what it meant to me personally, what it meant to the people buried here, the beauty of some of the headstones and statues I did find. Lots of crosses and some of women with crosses which is interesting that it was women portrayed and not men. Jesus stood out most to me but I had to walk a fair way to find him. Kept thinking I have to walk all the way back lol and I don’t want to be late picking up my daughter from High school..

Plenty of seats dotted here and there for quiet reflection. Immediate thoughts were just scattered and random. I jotted words down in a blank page book I had with me. Definitely taking photos heightened the experience but that was not easy just using my Iphone. The glare of the sun overhead make it hard to see the small screen so I was blindly taking some shots. It wasn’t till last night I had to time to play around with them because that is something I like to do. Filters, aps and all. I hope the poem I wrote reflects more on what I was thinking and feeling. Least it is with less words. 🙂

I tend to stay in my bedroom a lot so to get out on this type of artist date was immense fun! I need to do more of them! I’d say the output is that I realize that I should get out of my house for regular artist dates and give myself time to actually do it and soak it in not hurry through. I love using my lap top to write best. Pen and paper is so scrawly so I tend not to want to use it too much. Just being out of my comfort zone and getting the stimulation for this post makes my mind leap ahead to what else I could do in the future. Good for the soul, good for body, mind and spirit.

 

jesus

Fighting broken..

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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.

 

brokenwing

She just grew..

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DAY 10 – DIG DEEPER:
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…

 

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Today’s word is Love

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“Love” And my interpretation of it.

This digital art is two photos blended and framed. All done on my iPad using aps.

Of my sister and I.. Childhood with our father.. Black and white.
2nd is us both in recent years.
The way the photos overlap is extremely meaningful to me. Family.. Spirit.. Blood.. No separation.. Truth sets free.. Her and I overlap and are as one in both.. Love that.. I need to rest in that.. 

This relationship between us as sisters has been a huge personal struggle for me in recent years.

Gods Spirit has been speaking to me about just loving her through it. 

Loving her as I myself desire to be loved.

Overlooking offence..

I believe this kind of love is what we both need.. Just like God so loves me and sees me pure and holy through HIS Son.. My desire is to love and view my sister the same way.. 

It’s hard to be “real” without saying the wrong thing or saying too much.. 

So I hope my art expression says much more.. 💗

  

Touchstone

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From my sick bed can you tell but my ex has the kids so I can rest today .. 🙂 there’s a freedom that comes from being real. 

I have never heard of this word before now.. I didn’t know the meaning. I had to google it.. 

I found this meaning in urban dictionary. And oh wow!

Floored me.

“Touchstone – urban dictionary 

Person of importance. Significant other. Your constant, the person who completes you and makes you whole. A true friend without critisms and judgements, who loves you unconditionally.”

I’m a single mother and life circumstances have meant I’m alone a lot.. So this meaning of “Touchstone” is incredibly significant.. 

HE is my touchstone.. I can’t do this life without HIM. It’s HE that gives everything value. I have plenty of things around me that are meaningful but when I’m struggling and alone I don’t find comfort anywhere else. HE is with me and hands on my chest over my heart signifies what HIS Spirit and life within (which originates and ends in HIM) means.. 💗

  

Discovery

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Currently taking part in a “Pilgrimage of Resurrection: A Creative Journey through the Easter Season”..

A free offering by “Abbey of the Arts”..  Running between April 5th and May 24th. Current day I’m up too and yes I’m behind.. Word for the day is Discovery. This is my art journaling piece when I considered that word. I will add link below so anyone interested can check out what Abbey of the Arts is all about. It had to be double pages today because I wanted to spread it out as much as possible.. The beauty of creation.. The ancient relics. Spirit with you who was back in the beginning of time as we know it yet with you now. 

Art does not reproduce what we see. It makes us see. Paul Klee 

“Discovery” ohhhh I had so much fun with this Art Journalling piece.. 

Im sick with flu I think also struggling with depression but this literally lifts me to another world.. I hope you can read the quote and words.. It’s just a bit of paint, words, glue and pictures oh but what you can do with it.. 🙂 

I literally see it coming together and its miraculous.. Beautiful images and quote come from “National Geographic” magazines my SIL gave me to use for art! 

The Spirit moves me in this Art Journalling process and its a healing balm.. God with me always lifting me up.. Exquisitely loving me.. 💗 if you can see HIM with faith wow does your world open up.. 

I especially like the girl looking out from behind the door.. I don’t have to go anywhere, do anything, be anyone yet HIS Kingdom is here and within. Despite everything that’s a trial you can truly see HIS glory in this world if you have eyes that see..

Abbey of the Arts

  

Mindfulness

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All of my writing today is based on a book I’m reading on Scribd called “The Artist’s Rule.. nurturing your creative soul with monastic wisdom by Christine Valters Paintner”

“Mindfulness” (Your teaching me how to live.)
Discipline of paying attention to “what is going on in the present moment,” which can give rise “to insight, awakening and love.” – Edward C. Sellner

Where do I encounter restlessness in my contemplative and creative life?

Not dwelling here enough. Feeling it’s selfish. Not seeing purpose for it. That it is an escape rather than a path to GOD and His purposes. Not seeing why or what it means..
Always seemed I’ve done this to myself rather than this actually being a calling of God.

What are the moments when you are tempted to run in the other direction instead of standing still and being fully present to the gifts and challenges of the moment?

It’s such an internal war. Solitary journey. Spiritual malady. (word came to me) I never use it.
I didn’t choose this path. I love art, expression, inspiration, writing, contemplative exercises and even my own company but I didn’t intend it for myself. The things I enjoy are suited to this place I’ve found myself. Not just because I’ve run here or tried to run from it.
The deafness, the isolation, the need to express myself even despite misunderstandings. It would be easy to be overwhelmed. Even heed others advice to do this or that.
But seeking GOD alone despite myself.
I’m still tempted to give up often.
Something greater keeps me going. Even people can’t distract me. Just makes me tunnel vision even more.
More determined. Even if I’ve no idea what it all means. Seems it’s a path I must walk. Not to be afraid of it. Speaking of it even now and here is perhaps the wisest thing.

Because like it or not this is my reality.

“Here I am God.”
“Do what you will with me.”

And go do it!!! 

 

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