A Personality Type

During my Education Assistant course studies regarding working effectively in an education team, I discovered the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). It is a personality test that was developed during World War II and follows Carl Jung's personality theories. Theoretically, we each fit into one or other of four dichotomies, the combination of which provide 16 possible personality types.

Sound interesting?

Being rather curious by nature, I decided to answer the four question "test" and have my own personality type revealed!

Mmmm. My result?

HI = Harmony-seeking Idealist.

Harmony-seeking Idealists are characterised by a complex personality and an abundance of thoughts and feelings.

Ha ha. I think this justifies the title of my Blog!

And ...

They are warm-hearted persons by nature. They are sympathetic and understanding. Harmony-seeking Idealists expect a lot of themselves and of others. They have a strong understanding of human nature and are often very good judges of character. But they are mostly reserved and confide their thoughts and feelings to very few people they trust. They are deeply hurt by rejection or criticism. They find conflict situations unpleasant and prefer harmonious relationships.

Adjectives: introverted, theoretical, emotional, planning, idealistic, harmony-seeking, understanding, peace-loving, sensitive, quiet, sympathetic, conscientious, dogged, complicated, inconspicuous, warm-hearted, complex, imaginative, inspiring, helpful, demanding, communicative, reserved, vulnerable.

My reaction?

How did they know me so well? I mean, it is one of the closest descriptions of my personality I've ever read (and I didn't have to answer 100 questions or submit my date of birth)!

Also to my amazement, job # 1 on the list of Career Suggestions was ...

Can you guess?

Teacher Assistant.

Ha ha. Unbelievable!

For many years I have been searching for answers regarding my personality as one might when feeling different from everyone else in the family. My Mum's theory is that I am too sensitive. My theory, up to now, has been to believe I was more akin to my Father's family ... but my ancestry research (to date) has shed little light on this theory.

Now, perhaps, the search for answers is over.

Perhaps, the answer lies solely with myself.

My personality is simply about me.

I need to acknowledge who I am, love who I am and be the best I can be.

With knowledge comes peace, they say.

Interested in your own personality type?

Go to this website and complete the four question test.

What is your result? Does it describe you?

Please let me know ...

Wordless Wednesday

The BIG 90!

Can you believe it?

My Father, John David Roberts, would have turned 90 today!

Amazing!

I wonder what he would have been like at 90? Would his mind and/or body be failing him or would be lucky enough to still be himself? Would he be living at home with my Mum or would he be living in a nursing home? Would he be content with his life or would he have regrets?

All this pondering also makes me wonder what he was like at 10, 20, 30, 40 and 50 years of age? What I have discovered over the last few years is that he was an exciting soccer player in his mid-teens; playing for Liverpool in the Zingari League. But this pursuit was cut short by WWII when he enlisted in the 8th Royal Artillery Regiment of the British Army, Number 901837, as a range finder and went off to fight in North Africa. At 25, he returned to English soil having spent three years in a German concentration camp, Stalag IV-C, POW Number 253575, stationed in Bystřice, (now) the Czech Republic. It seems such a young age to already have endured nearly 6 years of physical hardship and emotional torture. I wonder how this affected the boy he was ... and the man he became?

The year he returned home he discovered his high-school sweetheart, and first wife, had died of lead poisoning. He then married for the second time and was blessed with a son in the following January. Four years later he became a single parent and had the responsibility of juggling fatherhood with work commitments and a social life. I imagine this was another turbulent time in his life. What would have been more difficult for him: the war or the reality of living as a single parent?

Apparently his life turned around when he met my mother in his late 40s ... apparently he was happy and in love. They decided to look for a quieter life and settled on a move to Australia. But it wasn't easy. The house had no phone, no mains water and was a kilometre away from shopping facilities. My Father didn't have a permanent job, so needed to walk into town each morning to find out if he had work that day. I was born a few years later and by this stage he had a job at the local Shire. However, the day before my 1st birthday he died unexpectedly of tuberculosis in hospital. He was 52. My mother was about 5 months pregnant with my sister and did not have a car. She never saw his body. What had happened to their dream? Shattered. Although, this seems an understatement. And picking up the pieces? Now that would have been an almost overwhelming task ...

Yet, here we all are today. My brother, my mother, my sister and myself. Each living our own lives. Each with our own families. Each with our own scars. Each with our own dreams. But are we really taking risks by dreaming about the future? Or are we merely living each day just in the hope that it won't be our last?

In this light, living to the age of 90 seems such an extraordinary feat.

Yet my Dad, Raymond John Bell, is nearly 79 years of age and he makes another 10 years seem entirely plausible. He has lived a full life. And he does so with responsibilities for two families, with regrets, with a never-ending to-do list and with a body that "gives him jip!"

Perhaps one shouldn't hold on to the thought of living a long life, but simply to living a full life: mistakes, dreams and all.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

Outside my window ...
Is the beautiful night sky, lit with an infinite number of twinkling stars! It is a joy to be in the desert on nights like these :)


I am thinking ...
How glad I am to be home after a week or so of travelling.


I am thankful ...
For holiday experiences.


From the kitchen ...
I successfully produced a cous-cous salad to accompany the salmon for dinner tonight.


I am wearing ...
Cotton tank top and denim shorts to cater for our recent warm Spring weather.


I am creating ...
Words and ideas for ANOTHER book I would like to write. Oh, one of these days!


I am going ...
To enjoy my sleep tonight after a busy day unpacking suitcases, washing piles and piles of clothes, cleaning cupboards and tidying mess.


I am currently reading ...
Nothing.
Four books to choose from: Britain in 1926; Russia in 1910; England 14th Century; Venice 1604.
Spoilt for choice!


I am remembering ...
How to think positive thoughts and be grateful for the small things.


I am hoping ...
To enjoy the remainder of the school holidays with the kids.


I am hearing ...
The conversation between a grown man and his Mother. My Mother-in-law is here for her annual, two week visit.


On my mind ...
Preparations for tomorrow, the week ahead, the girls' 7th birthday party and my overdue assignments.


Noticing that ...
Grass is growing in my new garden due to the warm weather! Grrrrr.


One of my favourite things ...
Flowers.

Pondering these words ...
"Today, let us choose to walk the good path for this is the way of peace." Angel


Around the house ...
My girls are fast asleep, but they still have many hours to catch up on after our travels.
The dog is outside awaiting his night walk.
My husband and mother-in-law are connecting through conversation.

Evidence that we've been away on holiday is mostly gone now ... It is time to settle into reality.


A few plans ...
Mostly to prepare for the girls' birthday party -- party bags, magic tricks, food and drinks, a general clean-up.


From my camera ...

If you would like to start The Simple Woman's Daybook, then please visit Peggy at http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Heavenly spirits

There must be something in the air at the moment.

Yesterday, I found this beautiful comment by a friend ...

•*¨*•.♥.•*¨*• I like to think that when ever I see a butterfly slowly flutter by, it is a dearly missed loved one coming down from heaven just to say hello •*¨*•.♥.•*¨*•

Then, I saw a wonderfully photographed monarch butterfly on the blog, serendipitous, which I follow.

And today, I was approached by a five year old in our school garden to talk about her dying Nana. We were surrounded by luscious vegetables and herbs at varying stages of growth, just a perfect setting for butterflies.

She wanted to know if there was such a place as heaven?

Why did she ask me? I am the least likely of people to ask about heaven ... My family attended church on Sunday mornings, yes, but only when we weren't playing hockey. I don't think we could be called committed Christians. I think we were late bloomers also, as I did not attend Sunday school and have never read the Bible.  All in all, my knowledge of the Christian faith, the spiritual world and death has come from personal experience and a deep love of history.

What did I say? Considering I am neither her parent nor guardian and she is five years old, I could say very little. But, I needed to say something because her eyes welled with tears when searching my face for an answer. I knew the look. All she needed to know was where her Nana, Alice, would be going ...

So I talked about our body and our spirit, two separate entities. I explained that when you die, your spirit leaves your body to go to heaven, which her Mum had said was somewhere up near the stars. I remembered explaining this to my children, after my grandmother died, and they were much younger than Miss A. It helped that they were engrossed by the movie Brother Bear, which is a tale about Native American Indians and their understanding of death and the spirit world. Nonetheless, this subject is tricky.

Miss A wanted to know what happened after your spirit reaches heaven. I remembered the beautiful story described in Before Sunrise, where a young boy believes he sees his recently passed Great-Grandmother in the rainbow created by the spray of his garden hose. So I talked about my own experiences of feeling my late Grandmother's spirit near me when I hand-sew costumes for my girls and suggested that she may find ways to remember her Nana in the same way. She said she had felt breezes the day before and perhaps this was her Nana's spirit ... but, as tenderly as I could, I reminded her that Nana Alice still had her spirit inside her body.

Tonight I wonder if I've said the right things. I wonder if I've said enough to comfort her. I wonder if I've crossed some boundaries that I shouldn't. Although I love this side of my job, talking to the kids, sometimes you are thrown a curve ball that you really aren't prepared for.

Bless you both, Miss A and Nana Alice, may your spiritual journeys be peaceful in this world and the next :)

September reflections

There are times when you are just so busy LIVING life that you forget what exactly you've been doing!

Just lately, I feel the days have been slipping by without me noticing them ... so I decided to write a sentence to summarise my day. It took a minute at most, but now makes for an interesting read.

Today I feel like I have exited that busy, spinning, dust storm and can now watch the dust settle back down to earth again.

Please enjoy my September reflections ...

8th September ...
Today is for sick children at home, baking banana muffins, sewing costumes for Friday's assembly, writing, dreaming and taking a break out in the sunshine :)

9th September ...
Today is for children back at school :D, good and bad news, contemplation rather than completion, looking at dirty floors with eyes shut, feeling so tired that sleep needs to come NOW!, finalising assembly costumes when the mood takes and as many cups of coffee as the body can handle.

10th September ...
Today is about early mornings, working, saying goodbyes, more sick children, an amazing husband, wonderful friends, chocolate and looking forward to rest :)

11th September ...
Today is for unexpected rain, late mornings, convalescence, solitude, girls' time, finding grace and joy, remembrance and the renewal of life. ❤❤❤

12th September ...
Today is for surprises, gratitude, sunshine, the garden, playing and hoping decisions made are right for all involved :)
P.S. Thanks Mum ... what an amazing gift you've given me. ❤❤❤

13th September ...
Today is for greetings, hard work, honesty, nurturing, smiles, love and the joy of a brand new day :D ❤❤❤

14th September ...
Today is for waking late, a new job, new faces, new procedures, endurance, compassion, nerves and one foot in front of the other.

15th September ...
Today is for Mothers and Daughters, fairness, sunshine, chores, out-of-routine, family and another night lacking in sleep.

16th September ...
Today is for grace, joy, birthday preparations, hugs, smiley kids, communications and hopefully some sleep tonight :) ❤❤❤

17th September ...
Today is for birthdays, presents, celebrations, farewells, tears, joy, friends, family and sharing the fruits of life. ❤❤❤

18th September ...
Today is for recuperation, catch-up sleeps, the familiar, unexpected guests and family time.

19th September ...
Today is for ORGANISING ... for the final week of school, for holidays, for future events, for upcoming birthdays, for study and for keeping in touch! Love to all ❤❤❤

20th September ...
Today is for strong cool winds, crazy school children, strong coffee, laughter and the unexpected! ❤❤❤

21st September ...
Today is for birthdays, more birthdays, being comfortable in one's own skin, glorious sunshine, connections, new and old friends, heavenly spirits and the innocent. :)

Returned gifts

You know that jubilant feeling that comes with the return of your senses after a cold has recently ravaged your body? The pure joy of breathing a lungful of air, smelling the warmth of sunshine, and tasting the sweetness of honey once again. It is the ecstasy of simply being alive that is so overwhelming your heart feels like it will burst!

Well, suddenly my senses were returned to me last Sunday! And I must say, what an amazing gift it is to receive! I feel like I have had a cold for the last three years. Of course, I haven't really. Rather, upon the death of my Grandmother parts of me simply vanished along with her.

I recognised something was different on the weekend when, out of the blue, there came a yearning to get into the garden; a strong desire to create something using my own hands and imagination. It has been near three years to the day since I've taken any interest in gardening, apart from the usual request to prune roses when at my Mum and Dad's place or the Escallonia hedge with my Mother-in-law. And, in fact, since the 5th of September 2007 I lay witness to the slow death of my beautiful cottage garden that had been so lovingly created for two years previous. Surprisingly it wasn't hard to watch, as the heat of the desert sun sucked the life out of the tender plants and the insidious grass destroyed the hardier ones. It wasn't hard because my garden reflected the state of my heart. Pillaged. Plundered. Dry. Desolate.

Although I cried over the loss of my Grandma, I have never once cried over the loss of my garden. My Mother-in-law tried to resurrect it last year, but the grass grew back more vigorously than before and even the roses couldn't compete. The only gardening I did involve myself in was to save the last remaining rose bushes and citrus trees. We still have them in pots here at the new house, which we moved into recently. So, after five years at our previous house all we left for the next occupants were four shade trees, some native shrubs and a good coverage of grass over the red dirt. I still can't cry over the loss of all those wonderful plants. But I can remember the joy of picking bunches of herbs from the garden, the amazing pleasure of using our own lemons to make our favourite lemon and poppy seed muffins, as well as the spectacular sight and smell of gorgeous Jude The Obscure rose blooms and those huge, white November lillies near the apple tree.

As yet, I can see no clear reason or reasons as to why my heart has suddenly opened up to want to create a garden. Perhaps it has been a gradual process. Or perhaps recent events, like my new ideal job working three days a week in the education of young children, have something to do with it. Whatever the reason, I met this situation with an open embrace and set out at once to pursue my creative urges. I approached my partner with my ideas, which obviously took him by surprise, and instead of going through our usual planning process we simply decided to make a new garden. For this, I am truly thankful.

We planted five, pink rosemary shrubs along the driveway with an edging of the common Mondo grass. The girls planted out some wildflower seeds, which should sprout within the next few weeks. I am deeply pleased with the result of our efforts on the weekend, and find immense pleasure in watering this small patch of dirt every evening. In fact, I can't keep the smile off my face! :)

To whom it may concern: thank you for the gifts ... I will treasure them always.

The Card

I received the most beautiful card from my husband last week.

He wrote his thoughts inside ...

You are an incredible woman, mother, wife and most of all, partner. I have never met someone who is able to give so fully of ones self to those things and people that you feel are important. You are so passionate about life and those who you hold dear.

I am truly proud of you. Proud for your ability to give so much of yourself, even at times to your own detriment. Proud of your total love and commitment to our children. And certainly proud of your amazing ability to juggle family, study, personal commitments and work.

Most of all, however, I am proud of being able to call you my wife and partner.

You are a very special person and someone who I love deeply.

I wanted to share these words because they made me cry and smile at the same time! Yes, I am complicated ... but I have one person in this world who can appreciate me for who I am. Luckily enough, that person is my husband.

Thank you darling.

Not an open or shut case

I sit here almost paralysed by the sadness within my heart.

I do not eat well.
I do not sleep well.
I do not do anything well when the sadness is here.

I wonder when it will go ...
               as I wish to smile,
                          to be joyous,
                                      and to be full of light again.

But I am also scared. I know these are signs that the little black dog may arrive at my front door soon. He has not found me in a few years and I have been so proud of my ability to keep him off the scent.

I will not panic though. Instead I wonder why the sadness is here? Sadness is as pervasive as sunlight breaking through an open window, but I usually have my shutters drawn. Perhaps I have been careless of late. Perhaps I have opened up to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and forgotten the pain of burnt skin.

I guess therein lies the answer to my question as to how long it will stay. My skin will need time to heal. New skin will form and, when the time comes, the old skin will peel away. Although the new skin will look as fresh and unblemished as that surrounding it, there will be scars invisible to the naked eye that attest to this change.

We teach our children that mistakes must be learned from so we do not keep repeating them. So does this mean I should continue to be vigilant in keeping my shutters drawn? Or do I need to learn when to open them and when to close them? It seems such a hit and miss affair.

What do you think?

Sadness: low, melancholy, unhappy.

First love

A face appears, memories swell and feelings return.

He was my first love.

I was young, so was he.

Though we shared a connection,

I was too shy and uncertain to pursue my feelings.

He was gentle and kind.

I watched as others flitted about him.
His gaze was steady and I melted before it,
But I couldn't disengage my self-control and I lost him.

He and his family moved.
We lost touch for many years.
But my wishes for him to live a happy life were strong,
And he remained in my heart and soul.

His story found its way to me.
I found him and reached out.
Perhaps I needed to tell him how I felt for my own sake,
But my intention was to make him feel lovable and special.

We talked and listened.
I felt feelings I hadn't expected.
I wished for different circumstances, but it was unrealistic,
How can you be friends with someone who stirs your soul?

Today, his face appears again.
I can't believe my eyes!
My heart is beating furiously, my mind is awash with questions,
But my self-control is back and I know to keep my distance.

Perhaps we've met before.
Perhaps we're destined to meet again.
There will always be a strong connection between us,
But we will not be connected by love in this life time.

Till we meet again, my sweet.

I am the Seasons

I am the Seasons.

I am a busy bee, flitting from job to job throughout each day.
I am growing, sprouting new ideas and goals, expanding through listening, observing, reading and new experiences.
I am blooming, spreading my love and the sunshine from my heart.
I am enthusiastic, diligent, indecisive, versatile, nurturing and a quick learner.
I am Spring.

I am the Seasons.

I am intense, burning through barriers to find the truth, the heart, the inner spirit.

I am bright, sharing joyful times with friends and family, bantering with roosters who crow loudly.

I am fruitful, determined to make the most of life, discovering ways to live harmoniously and simply with the environment and its inhabitants.

I am passionate, intrusive, questioning, intuitive, witty and caring.

I am Summer.

I am the Seasons.

I am change, seeking to become a better person, finding new ways to explore the world and have fun.

I am shedding, releasing toxins from my life, liberating myself from the expectations or burdens of others.

I am storing, accumulating wisdom shared by the young and elderly, learning from mistakes. 

I am reflective, deep thinking, creative, innovative, judgemental and a listener.

I am Autumn.

I am the Seasons.
I am naked, unprotected from cruelty, exposing my sensitive core.
I am empty, devoid of feeling, drained of energy and enthusiasm.
I am closed, thwarting the attention of others, choosing solitude or the peace and support of immediate family.
I am patient, introverted, vulnerable, moody, pessimistic, stubborn and reclusive.
I am Winter.

I am the Seasons.
I am Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.
I am changing, evolving and unique.
I am every colour, every emotion, every phase.
I am the Seasons.

The promised life?

When a babe in arms, life was simple.
There was enough food, shelter and love.

When a toddler, life was suddenly complicated.
There was no Father, a grieving Mother, a new born Sister and a new Dad.

When of school age, life was unfamiliar once again.
How to make friends, how to keep friends, how to please a teacher and how to stretch ones mind.
Others were relied upon for self-belief and understanding conditions of love.

When 10 years old, life was sweet.
There was success in sport, academia, friendship, family connection and self-control.
But there existed an intense fear of losing everything and everyone.

When a teenager, life was way too complicated.
There was confusion about the body, mind, and life in general.
Others seemed false, cruel, unreliable, disinterested or unavailable.
There was high expectations and no skills to cope.

When independent at 18, life was liberating.
There was a rebellion!
No study, no advice taken, no playing it safe and no care for oneself.
Lessons about love, loss and true friendship were discovered.
There was a move away from family and the finding of others for support and guidance.

When mid-to-late 20s, life was a roller-coaster.
There were 'up' periods when the world was an oyster.
There were 'down' periods when the world closed and one couldn't see through the darkness.
There was a lack of trust, belief and direction.

Now a mother, life has changed completely.
It is not measured by success, but in patience.
There is no room for selfish thoughts, desires or motives.
There is room only for positivity, hope, faith, belief, trust and open mindedness.
A good example must be dreamt, fulfilled and sustained.

Is this the promised life?

Through a child's eye

Oh Mummy, you said I was your baby,
and you'd never ever leave me.
Oh Daddy, you said I was your one and only,
and no others would there be.
But now you've both just let me down,
and I don't know how to see ...
beyond my tears, beyond this minute and beyond my misery!

Oh Teacher, you said I was behaving well,
and that I made you very proud.
Oh Friend, you said I was the best,
and you liked when I laughed out loud.
But now you've both just let me down,
and I don't know how to act ...
beyond my anger, beyond my frustration and beyond this gloomy shroud!

Oh Self, you said I could do anything,
and that we would do it all.
Oh Self, you said I was making progress,
and we would never fall.
But now you've just let me down,
and I don't know what's coming next ...
beyond my fear, beyond the unknown and beyond my iron-wall!

Oh Child, you must believe us now,
when we tell you all will be okay.
Oh Child, you must believe us now,
when we ask you to find your way.
We understand your world has changed,
and you're feeling all mixed up ...
but beyond this hurdle you will jump and there you'll want to stay.

Oh Child, we promise to love you no matter what you do,
so you must promise to love yourself and do it forever too.

A life cycle

Last week my mind was whirring like crazy!
Plus I couldn't sleep,
            I couldn't eat,
                 I couldn't concentrate,
                      I had no patience ...
and I was crying at the drop of a hat!

Something was wrong ... but what?

The week before I was smiling,
                               I was on top of the world,
                                    I was organised,
                                         I was studying diligently ...
and I was able to see the beauty of everything around me.

So what happened ... what changed?

I still can't pinpoint one single event or a particular reason for my recent malaise. However, I do know that the events of May and June caused me to look deep within myself and question my abilities, beliefs and goals. As a result, there has been shedding of old skin and an invigoration of my integrity.

Perhaps the re-surfacing of old issues last week served to test my new self?

Thus I look forward, with interest, to the events and emotions of this week.
I hope to find peace,
    I hope to find support,
        I hope to find joy,
             I hope to find beauty ...
and I hope to find strength if none of these are found.

Life is a never-ending cycle.

The girl who came and went

She came in the half light, when most of the house was asleep.

She stood in the hallway, close to the door of the boy's room.

She looked intently at the sleeping child.

Would he wake to see her this time?

Her bright auburn hair hung gracefully about her pensive face.

She waited patiently, as patiently as is possible for any six year old.

She fiddled with the ties on her bright yellow raincoat and made squelching noises by stomping her feet in her water logged rain boots.

A smile reached her face now ... Oh how she itched to play!

Should she wake him?

Just then, the boy stirred.

He opened his eyes a little and stared at her.

"Does he see me?" she wondered.

She wanted to speak, but instead she smiled at him.

He smiled back in his dopey state.

Her heart quickened and she was about to go to him, but she heard footsteps behind her.

The girl spun around, ready to flee.

It was the mother, the boy's mother.

She smiled at the girl.

It was a warm smile and the girl stayed to watch as the mother went into the boy's bedroom and sat upon his bed.

She whispered something to him.

He turned over and closed his eyes.

The girl was disappointed, she had come to play.

But the mother was not angry with her.

She looked at the girl with a knowing smile.

"We've met before litle one", whispered the mother.

The girl cocked her head and tried to think.

"At the house where you used to live ..." the mother said gently.

The girl smiled.

Yes, she remembered now. The place where she had been the happiest in her life.

But her parents and baby sister had left some time ago. Instead, a family of strangers with no children had moved in. There was no fun in that!

"It's okay little one", said the mother, "you just need to find your way home."

The girl looked at the mother quizzically.

She did not want to go back to her home. She wanted to stay here with the boy and his mother.

But she guessed the mother wanted her to go now.

She hung her head with sadness, her hair fell carelessly over her face.

"Look for the light, little one, and there you will find others to play with", said the mother reassuringly.

A light?

The girl remembered seeing it.

But she had been afraid.

With the quickness of someone with clear intention, the girl left.

Only the mother was left awake now, sitting on the edge of her son's bed.

She leaned over the boy to see his face.

His eyes were closed, his breath slow and steady.

The mother smiled and lovingly stroked his hair, then she walked back down the half lit hallway.

She hoped the girl had found her way and was at peace now.

I've been hit by lightning!

What happened? One minute I am sitting at my computer writing about diversity and discrimination in education; the next minute I am sketching an image from my head, a book title and scrawling a summary for seven chapters.

If ever I felt like a lightning bolt had just hit me, then this was it! And the experience is as close as I want to come to the real thing. It was fast, furious and full of energy. Thankfully I have no burn marks on my body to record the exit point of the energy; however, I am left to hold a folded piece of A4 paper that is marked by a brown coloured sketch and two pages of my distinct scrawl. A time estimate you ask? Mmmmm, I would say no more than a minute. Wow! Were it not for that piece of folded paper, I would not have believed it.

The question I am asking myself now though, several hours later, is ... do I have the outline for my first book?

Dare I believe it has finally hit me? I have been dreaming about writing a book for so long now; I think I have been close, but not this close! The image of the front cover came to me two days ago, but I didn't know what it meant AND I didn't sketch it. This time, however, I followed my instinct; I picked up the nearest pen (a brown texta), folded a piece of paper in half and began to draw. There was no time to process anything! It simply flowed onto the paper seemingly without my guidance or a conscious thought.

As I sit here now, I still feel a sense of disbelief. Yet here it is in front of me. Abandoned. A soldier stands with his back to us, he is in silhouette, his head hangs down slightly and you sense his feeling of disbelief at being left behind. The sun is setting on the horizon of the desert, a desert of sand dunes in the North of Africa ... Why is he there? Why is he alone? Who abandoned him? What happens to him?

Luckily, I know the answers to these questions. They came like a lightning bolt from somewhere unknown, yet I now realise this story has been simmering quietly in the back on my mind over the last four years. My deeply personal journey is now bearing fruit, unexpected fruit.

Of course, I will dedicate the book to my Father. ❤❤❤

Writing

Why do we write?

It seems such a strange question to ask. Yet, I have always felt an urge to write, so to me it is not such a strange question to ask.

I usually write because it forces thoughts, ideas and memories from my head. It also provides relief from the powerful emotions that often attach themselves to these thoughts, ideas and memories. After my writing experience, which can be quick and easy, slow and painful, or somewhere in between, then my mind is clear and my heart is free.

I also write for pleasure. I see a beautiful scene before my eyes, I feel a beautiful feeling within my body or I remember a beautiful memory ... and I know I need to write in order to capture the beauty of the experience. After reading lots of rhyming books with my children, I have these rhyming songs fill my head when I lay in bed attempting sleep. I used to ignore them and think they were silly. Sometimes now though, I write them down and enjoy the surprise of re-reading them the following morning.

Some people like to write for others; some people like to write for themselves; whilst some do not like to write anything at all. My husband is one of the latter. He doesn't even like lists; particularly of the 'to-do' and shopping list variety!

These days I view my writing as history; a kind of history-in-the making. I record my thoughts concerning events that trouble me, that delight me as well as those that change my preconceptions or judgements. I do like to be jolted from my mental comfort zone and be asked to consider an alternative view.

My Grandmother taught me that life is a rich tapestry of stories. I have subsequently learned to cherish my own stories, and therefore my own life. On many occasion I believed my life was not worth living; I could not see my place in or value to the world. My early teenage diaries document my confusion about and frustration with the world around me. However, now I tend to view those few moments of fear, hopelessness and also faith as such -- moments. I do not allow them to be so life consuming or blinding.

It is such a blessing to have learned such a simple lesson of how to love and cherish your own life. I know that writing has saved my life and continues to enhance the way I live.

Bless all of you. ❤❤❤

The Magic Hand

Oh, the magic hand, the magic hand!
It moves like this, it moves like that ... AND
It moves paper through the air, both to the left and the right,
So your scissors cut the paper without much fight!

Oh, the magic hand, the magic hand!

It moves like this, it moves like that ... AND

It moves paper through the air, both to the left and the right,

So make sure your thumb is up on top and in plain sight!

Oh, the magic hand, the magic hand!

It moves like this, it moves like that ... AND

It moves paper through the air, both to the left and the right,

So hold the largest bit of paper to cut off the smallest white!

Oh, the magic hand, the magic hand!

It moves like this, it moves like that ... AND

It moves paper through the air, both to the left and the right,

So your scissors are cutting straight and the shapes are right!

(Adapted from Mem Fox for teaching children how to cut-out properly)

A memory stirred ...

A memory stirs. It comes from somewhere forgotten. The memory looms closer until the light shines upon it, thus banishing it from the darkness.

How long will it stay? Should I let the memory go or encourage my conscious to explore the scene now illuminated?

A boy and a girl sit alone in a sunlit room, each reading a book.

Feelings of companionship circulate and warm my body. I decide to let it stay with me. I am comfortable now to explore ...

They glance occasionally at each other and smile; there is no need to talk. This is a special moment. They can hear the world going along on its usual business outside. Somehow they find themselves in a time capsule, where even the hands of the noisy clock upon the wall seem to have slowed.

The connection between the boy and girl has been evident before now, but neither of them realised its depth until this moment.

Other memories are trying to enter the spotlight now. They are a mixture of new and old, and threaten to sabotage the clarity of the first memory. The peace has been shattered. Yet, I am not ready to give up -- I decide to shut the door on the other memories and drift back to the room from fifteen years ago ...

Who is this girl? I cannot recognise her. She is full of self-doubt and criticism, yet there is an abundance of hope and enthusiasm that she has for the future. What a contradiction. She is yet to understand herself and trust that she can face the world around her without a mask.

And what of the boy? Who was he back then? I cannot get a clear feeling about him. He seems closed off from the emotional world. He is so different from the man he has now become.

It is almost time to leave ... The shadows of the present are falling over them, casting different feelings and memories between the boy and the girl.

Neither the boy nor the girl knew the connection was more than friendship. Both of them had someone back "home" in the world far beyond the one they worked in every day for weeks at a time. It took them some six months to disentangle themselves from their previous lives in order to be free to unite as a couple in love.

Perspective

Perspective is an amazing thing ...

It is a thing required by artists, such as photographers, painters and architects. But perspective is also a thing that normal, every-day people require too -- we just don't always know it.

Whilst some people dwell on whether their outfit makes them look fat or not, whether their hair is too frizzy or dull, or whether their house is perfect like in magazines ... others dwell on whether they will be able to feed their family, whether they will find the strength to get out of bed because of depression, or whether they will survive the beating or verbal abuse likely to come their way.

However, perspective can be elusive. Often it is gained once a struggle or difficulty has been surpassed -- such that one can look back over recent events and realise the insignificance of it all. Should one feel guilty? I don't think so. Yet, the event can be filed for future reference in order prevent a loss of perspective under similar circumstances.

I am constantly reminded of the importance of perspective. Last week I enjoyed a wonderful few days away with my two children ... we read books, played games, went shopping, collected shells, stayed up late and snuggled in bed until the sun shone through the window. It was bliss. I realised the long, hard grind of recent months ensuring the girls were well nourished, rested, educated and challenged now paved the way for us to relax and strengthen our bond under more joyful circumstances. Thus, I realised that although learning is important ... so is relaxation and family unity. There is need to make time for both.

As two of my closest friends are currently dealing with the reality of a parent with terminal cancer, I know the importance of keeping perspective about my day-to-day dramas. Like the fact that I spent 40 minutes this morning herding a run-away cat back into its owner's house! Grrrr. And I would dearly love to take away the mental anguish my two friends are suffering, but I know the importance of having someone simply be there to listen or to hug or to just be with ...

Today, I can look back over the de-railment of my own life over the last three years (due to grief upon the loss of my grandmother) and make this experience assist me to be the best supportive friend I can be. In addition, I can use a sense of perspective to realise recent disappointments will not prevent me from successfully moving along my chosen path. :)

Hold my hand ...

Hold my hand, oh little one

Hold it nice and tight,
Hold my hand, oh little one
Hold it with all your might.

Today you've entered the big, wide world
And they've given me the chance to tend you're every need,
Tomorrow we're going on this journey together
Both of us unsure of what lies ahead, indeed.

Hold my hand, oh little one

Hold it nice and tight,

Hold my hand, oh little one

Hold it with all your might.

You may be small and the youngest of us by far
But your instinct about what you want is overwhelmingly strong,
I need to keep calm and listen to all your cries
As to underestimate your sense of self would be quite wrong.

Hold my hand, oh little one
Hold it nice and tight,
Hold my hand, oh little one
Hold it with all your might.

There is so much to learn from one another
To think of all our future challenges brings up a sense of fear,
However, you know and feed off all my emotions

So I am keeping myself strong and positive, my dear.

Hold my hand, oh little one
Hold it nice and tight,
Hold my hand, oh little one
Hold it with all your might.

Well, my child, the years are simply slipping by
You've reached an age now where I'm needed oh so rarely,

Indeed, when my face at school is deemed so uncool

Then I know it is time to let you go, albeit warily.

Let go my hand, oh little one

It is time for your maiden flight,

Let go my hand, oh little one

The timing is oh so right.

Dedicated to my two beautifully-spirited girls who gave a sense of purpose to my life, and give me great joy, inspiration and contentment each and every day. I love you both so much! ❤❤❤

Faith in goodness and love

You might think on the day of your birthday you will celebrate with family and friends and it will be full of joy, laughter and love ... but sometimes it just isn't like that. That was my birthday this year.

The events of the day before, May 28th, seemed to overpower the celebration meant for the 29th.

One may argue that you should ignore all that has gone before and "be in the moment" ... and normally I would say I can do this, but yesterday I could not. My work ethic, personal integrity and ability to be a true friend were all called into question on Friday. How do you ignore that? Of course, it also happened to coincide with the anniversary of my Father's death. To say Friday was a tough day would be a huge understatement.

However, it would also be misleading to recall my birthday as totally miserable because there were pockets of beautiful moments with friends and my family that I will treasure. I was given the gift of my husband's presence and support throughout the events of Saturday morning, my two girls made a special effort with their birthday cards, and then I found myself in the company of some very special friends throughout the afternoon. Yet I felt sadness in my heart, and perhaps I couldn't receive those wonderful gifts in full.

Today I have been able to reflect upon the last few days and still find myself wondering what it has all been about. My faith in the goodness of people and beauty of love, however, have been somewhat restored as I found many lovely birthday wishes on my Facebook page, email, mobile phone and in my birthday cards. So perhaps Sunday the 30th has been the day when I have been able to celebrate my birth some 37 years ago, which luckily enough my Father was alive to enjoy.

Overall I feel grateful for my life, my family, my friends and my faith. These are beautiful gifts that cannot be taken away by dishonesty and bullying. I hang on to these with joy and love, and hope that laughter comes my way soon.

❤❤❤

Being different

Today has been a hard day. Today, I felt like I was back at high school; I had that feeling of not fitting in and of being different. Yes, it is silly. But you can't control how you feel. However, the benefit of being 20 years older is having the knowledge that you can control your reaction to these feelings!

I have two wonderful books on the go at the moment ... the first is called The Six Questions of Socrates and the second is Secrets About Life Every Woman Should Know. I am loving the ideas contained within these two books, especially the concept of my purpose in life being to grow into the best human I can be ... with virtues such as a sense of social justice, a sense of courage, piety toward humanity and love or empathy for others. It is with this knowledge that I can reflect upon today's events and remain confident in the person I am now and who I want to be in the future.

Our capacity to love

Who am I to be writing about love? I am neither a poet nor a writer who knows how to elegantly arrange words to convey such feelings. I am neither experienced nor knowledgeable on the subject. I possess only a heart and the capacity to use it ...

Today I reached out to sooth a child in distress and it surprised me to feel my heart in my mouth. It took only a few minutes to calm and reassure him, but the experience moved me ... it was love; I did it out of love.

Where has this come from? How has this happened? These are a few of the questions I am asking myself tonight as I reflect upon my day.

These days I am surrounded by children, day and night. It may just be spending time at home with my own two girls, or in a classroom with up to 26 of them, or even in a playground with over 50! To some people this may sound like chaos, insanity or a little bit of both, but I love it. And I am also on a journey of self-discovery through this experience; I am learning about my prejudices, my imperfections and my capacity to love.

When I first decided to become a teacher I knew I wanted to be with young children, so I signed up to complete a Graduate Diploma in Primary Education. However, after my first two weeks of practical experience I changed to Secondary Education. I was scared. Inside of a week I felt an attachment with those young students as I knew their names and some of their personal stories. What would happen if I taught them for a year? I was also scared for the future. I was afraid of my children believing that I could love anyone more than them.

It is eight years since I made that decision to become a teacher and I am yet to fulfil my dream. Instead, I am a parent to 6 year old twin girls, a part-time student enrolled in a Certificate III (Education Support) course as well as a part-time Education Assistant at a local Primary School. Although the road has proved bumpy and full of unexpected twists and turns, I feel this is where I am supposed to be. I don't have the responsibility of preparing lessons for each day as well as ensuring each student has the best opportunity to learn. Yet I still contribute to the learning environment in which these students inhabit. Additionally, I have time to assist my own children with their homework, listen to their daily episodes, read them bedtime stories and worry about them constantly.

My experience today, however, has taught me that my heart can expand and reach out to others without limiting the supply of love for my own family. Perhaps I needn't be scared or afraid of love. Perhaps I need to let go of my heart. Perhaps I need to trust in my capacity to love endlessly.

Your heart is a reservoir of love ... let it be free.

To live and love or fear it all

Fear makes my hair stand up.

Fear leaves me breathless.

Fear paralyses my body.

Fear drives my mind wild.

Fear causes my heart to race or just stop completely ...

Fear.

Fear.

Fear.

I fear the darkness of night.

I fear the noises of my houses.

I fear the pain of my children.

I fear the bouts of insomnia.

I fear the ache of grief.

I fear the thoughts of depression.

And I fear the lack of direction or purpose in my life ...

Love.

Love.

Love.

Love swells my heart.

Love allows me to breathe deeply.

Love frees my body.

Love eases the pain.

Love gives me freedom of thought.

Love caresses my soul.

Love conquers my fear ...

Tomorrow, I hope my courage to choose love and life is stronger than my fear.

"Fear is created out of love by your own mind to protect you from pain.
Fear pretends to protect us from harm when it is actually robbing us of our passion for life.
Freedom doesn't mean having no fear. It means acting in spite of your fear.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Barbara De Angelis