The Bond

It’s October, and that means it’s “Pink Ribbon Month“. Over on Redbubble there have been many a Bubbler – my very own Jamie included – who have been doing works of art specifically to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer research. Boobies are everywhere! I’m not complaining. It’s very good. Boobs are good. I like boobs! And I, not wanting to be left out of doing my own signature bit for the cause, have done something a bit different so as to make a point on two fronts: one, for breast cancer awareness and, two, for breastfeeding.

You may or may not know that breastfeeding, while infinitely beneficial to the child, cuts the risks of getting breast cancer (along with other wonderful benefits for the mother – not the least of which is calorie burning and not having to get up in the middle of the night to make bottles). I don’t have the statistics here – be sure to look them up if you’re interested, but I know that breasfeeding mothers are at less risk of the dreaded disease than mothers who do not breastfeed their babies.

I am extremely pro-breastfeeding, for many reasons. But, I like to point out the “selfish” ones, because all too many women are under the false impression that it is an inconvenience for them to breastfeed. I consider the outrageous prices of formula and sterilizing bottles to be much more of an inconvenience, thank you very much. And, even if it was “inconvenient” – which it is not! – the benefits for both mother and baby far outweigh any slight “inconveniences”!!! And, yes, now I’ve stepped onto my soap box (I’m not going to appologise for it)…I’m quite passionate about this. But, what could be more important than insuring better health for not only your child, but also giving yourself the added benefit of protecting your health as well! It’s a win, win, win, win, win, win…. you get the idea… situation!

 So, with all that in mind, my artistic contribution for these very worthy causes is this image:

image NOT public domain © Copyright 2009 Songmistress, All Rights Reserved

(click here to see detail and information about purchasing)

This magical composite scene features me and my son, Warrick; all my own photos and textures were used.

I have breastfed all my babies, and I can attest to the wonderful bonding that occurs between mother and child.

I’ve also added a bit of symbolism here, pointing to Mother Earth, oneness with nature, and nourishment – both physical and spiritual – on a world-wide, big picture scale.

If purchased, all proceeds for this piece will go to cancer research uk.

So…that’s my bit. And, I felt it important enough to blog about it. So, thank YOU for reading. Now, I hope you will go do your bit, too. Even if your bit is only to remember to check your own mammeries or remind a friend to do so!

SAVE THE BOOBIES!

The World Within

My mother is an amazing artist and an amazing person. She has more talent in her little finger than I have ever had throughout my entire being. Vocally – though we are both contraltos – she has always had the better range and control. She paints, writes, sculpts, plays the piano and the organ, and – as I say – sings.

She is also legally blind.

She was not always blind. In fact, once upon a time, she had better than perfect vision. This was attested to and documented by an opthomologist who gave her an exam one time. This is how the story goes…

My mother went to the eye doctor for an exam during which, as these exams go, the doctor instructed my mother to look at a poster on the wall opposite to where she was sitting in the examination chair, and he asked her if she could see “the dot” in the middle of the page. She responded, questioningly, to him, “You mean the man in the little boat?”

The doctor was nonplussed. He said, “Uhhhhh…”, and then he went over to the poster and peered at it closely with a magnifying glass. Sure enough, even though he – and none other of his patients – had ever seen it, there was a man in a little boat in the middle of the poster, and at the very bottom of the page , in tiny letters, was the title Man In Boat. My mother was the only one to have ever seen it as anything more than just a dot.

My mother has given me many things, but one of the most precious is the desire to look deeper – not just in the physical, but also metaphorically speaking. I will always be grateful.

As I say, her physical vision is now seriously diminished due to a tragic accident, but her spirit is not so diminished. She keeps creating wonderful works of art and music – even in the darkness, she finds the light.

Today I did this piece for her. 

Clicking on the link here so you are able to see the image in greater detail is a must so that you can look deep and discover more than a mere glance on this blog page will give you.

 

 

Thank you, Mommy, for teaching me to see – to look – for more than just a dot!

She’s Like The Wind

The Vyxen writes:

“I think that you should post in your blog when you post in your RB. ‘Cause, y’know, some of your pieces include a wordy narrative to go along with them. Blogdom wants to see these things, too! Yup.”

While I may not be able blog every time I post something new on RedBubble, I like Kim’s suggestion and think I will try to get in the habit of, now and then, when I do post a work which either has an accompaning “wordy narrative” or is simply one of the more special and poignant of my pieces (like this one I’m about to share), shouting out about it here in “Blogdom”, too!

Today I did a piece in honour of Patrick Swayze who just passed away from pancreatic cancer. What follows is what I put up on RB: my image and actually short, not overly wordy narrative accompanied by the lyrics to PS’s song She’s Like The Wind.

(click here to buy or just to see the image in better detail)

I’m sure that in the next few days and weeks many people will be putting up their tribute and “in rememberance” works in honour of the late Patrick Swayze. And, perhaps, my idea isn’t all that unique, but it is heartfelt, and it is unique in that it is my special tree and me as the wind.

Rest in Peace, PS.

She’s Like The Wind – by Patrick Swayze

She’s like the wind through my tree
She rides the night next to me
She leads me through moonlight
Only to burn me with the sun
She’s taken my heart
But she doesn’t know what she’s done

Feel her breath on my face
Her body close to me
Can’t look in her eyes
She’s out of my league
Just a fool to believe
I have anything she needs
She’s like the wind

I look in the mirror and all I see
Is a young old man with only a dream
Am I just fooling myself
That she’ll stop the pain
Living without her
I’d go insane

Feel her breath on my face
Her body close to me
Can’t look in her eyes
She’s out of my league
Just a fool to believe
I have anything she needs
She’s like the wind

Feel your breath on my face
Your body close to me
Can’t look in your eyes
You’re out of my league
Just a fool to believe
(Just a fool to believe)
She’s like the wind
(Just a fool to believe)
Just a fool to believe
(She’s like the wind)
Just a fool to believe
(Just a fool to believe)
She’s like the wind
(Just a fool to believe)
Just a fool to believe
She’s like the wind

(Just a fool…)
(She’s like the wind)
(She’s like the wind)
(Just a fool…)
(She’s like the wind)
(Just a fool…)

The Boy Who Would Not Sleep

Once upon a time, in a land far away to some but not so far to others, there lived a charming, handsome little lad named Warrick Leader. He gave to his mum and dad much joy by way of his smiles, giggles, and Warrick-talk. He delighted them with snuggles and sweetness.

However, there was another side to this beautiful baby boy. Even being nearly a whole year old, he still refused to sleep through the night. He insisted on waking several times a night and not going back to sleep – crying at the top of his lungs (a neighbour waking up cry) - until he was breastfed. His dad was exhausted, having to go to work each day to a job he despises but only does out of obligation to take care of his family. His poor mum was shattered and weary, haggard and depressed.   This woman was a mess at the best of times, unable to handle the stress and toil of daily life and often retreating to a fantasy world to escape. The sleep deprivation could only put a magnifying glass on all her messed-up-ness. This mum and dad were  in desperate need of good, rested sleep!

What can be the answer? Where will the magic be found to get Warrick to sleep through the night and, thereby, allow his parents to hold on to the shreds of sanity which remain them.

The days are bright with the fun and exuberance of his smile, his big sister’s laughter and beauty, and the couple’s immense love and passion, but these days get more and more difficult to enjoy when the nights are mostly restless.

 

HELP!

These Chains

By request of the Vyxen (there’s something about her that’s hard to resist), here I am. She’s been enjoying my visuals on Redbubble, but missing my narratives. And, as I’ve said before, there may be certain images that are, indeed, worth a thousand words, but there are still other times when the words require being said (or written) all the same.

 

One of the things I have been enjoying in my artwork is illustrating favourite songs. I’ve done so with my own music (look – and listen – here), making the work doubly personal, and yesterday I finished work on a piece based on the Marillion song These Chains. So, for an easy blog post (because, honestly, my children won’t let me be long enough to compose my thoughts so as to be able to write anything else…in fact, Fairlight is whining incessantly at me right now, as I type!!!), I’m going to share with you what I posted on Redbubble when I added this image yesterday, and I hope it will reach and touch the people who may need it (plus, hey, it gives more exposure to my work…two birds and all that):

(Please go here in order to be able to view the image in greater detail)

 

“Will you die and never know what it’s like outside?”

I put a lot of time and a huge amount of effort into this piece. More than that, I put my heart into it. It was inspired by the Marillion song These Chains which I encourage you to listen to.

It is also quite an autobiographical visual, which illustrates how I am the only one who holds myself back, and the only one who will miss out on what’s out there because I do… because the chains are comfortable, safe and warm, the cage is the known thing and “out there” is the unknown and frightening.

Listen to the song. Look hard at the image. As I say, the detail took ages…but, more than that…look at it, and you will see me…not just the self portraits within it – not merely my physical form – you will see me. Who knows? You might just see yourself in there too.

All photos used in this composite are mine, with the exception of the chains themselves, which my Jamie took when we visited Tenby, South Wales.

These Chains – by Marillion

Everything crashed
His wife left him
He lost all his money
And most of his friends
He lay awake all night
Lonely and desperate
Contemplating starting again
These chains are all your own
These chains are comfortable

Four in the morning
Sat in the kitchen
Keys on the table
Went out for a drive
He didn’t know
Where he was going
Didn’t know
If he was alive

The dawn was breaking
A new day was rising
Shadows creepin’ over the fields
He watched the pink light
Steal across the horizon
He realised
He saw with new eyes

These chains are all your own
These chains are comfortable
This cage was never locked
Born free but scared to be
This cage was made for you
With care and constant attention
This cage is safe and warm
Will you die and never know what it’s like
Outside

 

It takes courage, but I do know it’s so worth it when we take a step to break the chains and leave the cell behind. Here’s to hope and freedom!

I Creating

At the behest of The Reason I Breathe, I’m posting a blog about what I’ve been up to. Specifically, about how I am presently expressing myself (since, as some may have noticed, I’m not regularly blogging as I once had intended).

My youngest daughter, who just turned two on the 10th of July (the same day I turned 35 – ack!) likes to say “I dancing”, “I singing”, “I sitting down”, etc., to announce whatever it is she is doing. Jamie and I have picked up this Fairlightism. And so…

I creating!

An Erotic Storm

And…speaking of storms…

And even T-Shirts!

So, if you’ve been wondering, this is what I’ve been up to – and this is only a very small sampling!

More can be found by going here, and most of my work is for purchase as cards or prints or – obviously – clothing.

So, I haven’t disappeared from the face of the internet planet. I’m just…well…

 

I CREATING!

Visionary Ventures

At various times in my life I have expressed myself in/through different creative mediums. Now, it has only taken me nearly six years of being with Jamie – a professional photographer – for me to be properly bitten by the “creating visuals bug”. But, I definitely have it now. Taking photographs and doing photo manipulations to create [what I hope are truly] unique pieces of art is my [much needed] therapy at present. And, hey, I thought I’d plug my artwork here, seeing that I haven’t been blogging about anything else lately…and, I really have no words at the moment I want to share. A picture’s worth a thousand of the things anyway, apparently.

And so, here is my portfolio on Redbubble. You can browse, and purchase (hint, hint) my creations (I’ve even designed some t-shirts; my artwork is now wearable). Check it out!

 

 

Life and Times of the Sleep Deprived

"Why am I going to bed? It's my mum who is tired!"

I’ve recently been slacking in blogdom. My son refuses to let me get a decent night’s rest, and that affects everything. I’m so sleep deprived now that I am weepy; all my emotions are right on the surface and it’s easy to feel like the world is out to get me.

 

Case in point: yesterday morning, after a night of being woken up every couple of hours by my son, my daughter woke up at 6:30am and was ready to take on the day. I, of course, was not. However, I somehow made it to 11:00, got the boy to sleep, and convinced the girl to lie down for a nap, as well. I went straight to bed…and, as soon as I get my head down, what happens? Some yahoo decides it’s a good time to mow the grass right outside my front window and wakes up the little Dude. ARRRGGGHH! Tears ensued. So did a raging migraine. I honestly contemplated murdering the man mowing the lawn. The day was getting worse by the minute.

 

I did manage to turn it around by late afternoon, after my mum-in-law picked up The Snippet; I took some codeine followed by a can of Diet Coke, got The Superdude to take another nap so I could get some healing sleep. I woke up feeling better. Jamie came home from work and food shopping. Chips were eaten. CSI was watched. Gloriously rampant – and also healing – sex was had. Thus, the day ended on a high. I fell into bed happily exhausted instead of despondently so.

 

However, while I may not be blogging quite as regularly as I would like, my creativity and expression has still [somehow] been flowing. I have written a short story (very short, but something I am proud of nonetheless), I have been taking some of – what I feel are – my best self-portraits to date, and I made myself a spangly sig image for The Northlands.

 

And now, here I find myself in yet another day, after another night of being woken up…I lost count how many times, and I simply do not have it in me to blog like I wanna. I do have stuff I really want to blog about, but lack of sleep makes presenting a coherent, interesting and, most importantly, well-written post nearly impossible (and I refuse to inflict my readers – or shame myself - with badly written, typo-ridden, rambling twaddle). So, for the foreseeable future, I won’t be blogging much. At this point, allow me to celebrate the small accomplishments: getting up, getting dressed (sometimes I make it that far, I have done so today; yay me), washing the dishes, getting myself and my children fed… making it through the day, which, to me, isn’t that small of an accomplishment after all.

Escape

“I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.”

 “A man must dream, or a man must die,

And only the blue of the sky

Is as fair as the thing that only seems

And feeds the soul of the man who dreams.”

 

I don’t know what people do who have no imagination and, therefore, have no resort to run to when reality gets all a bit too much.

 

Today the sun is shining outside my window, but its light and warmth has not been able to break through to the dark, cold place inside me. I’m fighting feelings of envy from a certain quarter, and not fighting them very well. It’s so easy for me to get down on myself and feel devalued and unimportant…and very alone. 

 

I’m not looking for sympathy here. And, I know that I am loved and appreciated (thank you, again, those of you who know who you are)…I’m not losing sight of that, really. I promised I would not. Today I am simply struggling with those demons that plague me; they are not easily banished. I long to sleep. To dream. To escape. To build castles in the air, and close myself inside one of them, pull up the drawbridge, and never emerge again.

 

On a happy note…la la la (B Flat, I think), I figured out how to justify text on here. YAY for the little favours.

How Strange

 

How strange it is that people see strength in me that simply is not there. I suppose I should be grateful for their imaginations, because it is these people who call themselves my friends (yes, I actually have a few, believe it or not) and [genuinely] like me. I’ve written about this before. Here. When I wrote that entry I had just found out that I was pregnant…again, and not just pregnant, but 20 weeks – half way through – pregnant. It came as a shock to my entire being and it brought my weaknesses to the forefront of my attention once again (not that they are ever far from the forefront).

 

My problem here is, I feel sad that people don’t like me for me but for strength they see in me that isn’t there. People who see me as I really am rarely like me…at least not for long, anyway. I mean, people other than my husband who has – I believe – a divine grace to love and care for me, and my family. I can be exasperating. I know this.

 

I also speak my mind…and my mind often works very contrary to the way other peoples’ minds work. And, furthermore, I believe I’m the one that is right. I admit it. Opinions aren’t humble, no matter what people say! And, some of them are right and some of them are wrong. Yep, occasionally black and white leaves no room for grey.

 

See, the above paragraph right there is going to have some people pissed off and seething. I should have prefaced it with: Beware! Stumbling Block Ahead!

 

I have had the choice not to speak my mind and, therefore, “get along”. But, well…I obviously didn’t choose to suppress myself so.

 

And… if you dislike someone who is like me (whether they are a character in a book or a real, live breathing person) don’t you of necessity, then, dislike me also?

 

How do you see strength in me that is not there, and like that strength while holding all that I really am in contempt? I just don’t understand. I am at a loss. I am trying to get it. But, I don’t.

 

I’m not trying to push anyone away, really. But, I want to be liked – or disliked, if you must – for who I am, not what you think I am but am not.

 

And, I don’t think it’s one of those cases like I wrote about here. It’s not an issue of me not seeing myself through the eyes of those who love me and, therefore, being down on myself or having low self-esteem because of my inability to see myself through other peoples’ eyes. This is a case of personality and beliefs and the stuff that makes up my very psyche: the stuff that is really me. It’s not that I’m not seeing something in me that is really there, something other people see but I don’t. I can admit that I will see physical ugliness that IS NOT THERE when I look in the mirror, when someone else will see beauty that REALLY MAY BE THERE but I am unable to see it due to insecurities. But, this is something where people are seeing something – intangible – that just is not there.

 

You can like me in spite of who I am, I suppose (and, maybe, that’s what is actually going on here). But, you cannot – or, rather, should not – like me for something I am not, something I do not possess.

 

I am not strong. I never have been. I never will be. I crumble quite easily when faced with difficulties and am very easily frustrated, easily overwhelmed. I am utterly dependent on my husband, for everything – and, I see nothing wrong with that because I do think that feminism took society too far the other way. If Jamie wasn’t a good man, if he was a bastard who treated me like shit, then this would be another issue entirely. But, the truth is, he was made for me – a gift to me, I believe, so that a weak and fragile woman could have a life, and not merely an existence. I know I am extremely blessed, and I am so grateful.

 

I know that the way that I am does not make for popularity in today’s world. It amazes me that I have any friends at all sometimes. And, for those of you who do brave knowing me and still call me friend, I am also exceedingly grateful. I just want everyone to see me as I truly am and not make stuff up to make me be “acceptable”. Love me for who I am and who I am not, or despite it, but don’t ignore it and don’t see what isn’t there.