Monday, 25 July 2016

Making Swatches

I've been making swatches of my favourite set of watercolour paints.  I feel inspired to take up water colour painting again after a break of a few years.  My source of inspiration is my watercolour artist friend Anne from My Giant Strawberry who has demonstrated to me that with practise comes perfection.

It is lovely to have my interest rekindled.   Watercolour painting is like an old friend.  I have dabbled with acrylic paints but they really are not 'me'.  With watercolour the paints just glide across the paper as you move the pigment and water.  The results are unpredictable but is not life?

I may not blog as much as usual while I get reacquainted with my paints, brushes and paper but will be sure to let you know of any progress I make.

Sunday, 17 July 2016

Flaws

My flaws are my strengths





Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Channeling

For many years I have been interested in astrology, 'alternative' medicine, medical herbalism, aromatherapy, crystal healing, spirituality, meditation, mysticism, folklore etc.  I would even take shamanism on board but have yet to find my animal spirit no matter how hard I try. However, one of the things I have yet to be convinced by is channeling.

One of my favourite astrologers has recently taken up channeling.  I have watched her for years on YouTube and she has been a proficient educator in astrology whom I have respected and admired greatly. I have watched her videos with an open mind but fear that her recent videos on channeling have caused me to question all the information she has historically told.  I am a curious creature and I have watched her to the point of believing what she is doing now is farcical.  She claims to be channeling Pleiadians (who come from the Pleiades star cluster and navigate other Worlds through human consciousness).  If you look on line you will find loads of information on Pleiadians should you wish to explore this further.

When she channels the Pleiadians she pulls lots of funny faces and laughs continually in a very posh English accent.  I just don't get it.  Apparently they are very happy and want us on Earth to be happy too.  She now channels the Pleiadians when she is painting and produces the art whilst under the instruction of them.  She tells the viewers that they are telling her which colours to pick up and where to put it on the canvas.  She produces attractive abstract style paintings with acrylic paints, a canvas and a sponge.  I wasn't surprised when people inquired about buying them and behold she has already successfully sold them.  She even told of one occasion when she put a painting behind her bed at night and the next day all her health problems had disappeared.

I have always thought I was open minded.  I no longer think a lot of things I once thought.  I feel as though the wool has been pulled over my eyes and a woman that I once had such high regard for leaves me feeling confused and duped. 

I will end by saying that the videos are fun to watch but in my eyes it is all an act.  Like a magician deceives it's audience I believe that is what she is doing.  The fact that she is profiting from channeled paintings makes me determine furthermore that it is a scam.  Maybe she is confusing channeling with being inspired.  If she said she was inspired by aliens of other realms that would sit OK with me.  The fact that they show up on demand is not convincing me one bit.

Tuesday, 12 July 2016

The Job Centre



I took myself off to the job centre today for the first time in almost 2 decades.  Debating whether or not to take my umbrella – I decided to – just in case.  My intuition was spot on and the rain fell heavily resembling marching soldiers on the pavement and fast flowing rivers along the road.  I sought shelter the opposite side of a tree to another person sheltering there.  Car driver’s beeped their horns at oncoming traffic and struggled to see through the windows.

When I almost reached the building a stench of vomit filled the air.  I imagined a drunk or some low life spewing up outside and then I spotted the food waste collection truck.  On this humid day it was one of the most offensive things I have ever smelled.  My trousers were soaked through from the rain and my newly cut hair shortened as it frizzed up holding water.  I entered the building.

Inside a handful of people were sitting in chairs back to back in the middle of the room.  The circumference was filled edge to edge of desks with computers.  There was not a soul to a desk.  Immediately in front of me two young women with lanyards sat chatting and a security guard stood at the side.  They seemed shocked when I approached them to talk.  I’d inquired if they had any information, leaflets etc., on being self-employed.  They looked aghast when I told them I wasn’t on benefits but was seeking more information on working for myself.  One of them had a quick rummage through a concertina file on a shelf behind her back the other ran to side of the room to find a colleague to speak to.  Both were fruitless with their searches but advised me to look for jobs on line or to sign on to unemployment benefit. 

As I left the building the stench of warm vomit permeated the air once more as the food waste truck stood outside the train station chewing up its contents.

I  hadn’t been walking 5 minutes when something caught my eye across the road.  A large man was lying on his side on the pavement at the bus stop, his entire face coloured red with blood.  People were bending down to help him as a party of school children were fixated on him from my side of the road.  I tried to block their view as they passed me by.  I went over to the bus stop and asked a woman on her phone if anyone had called for an ambulance.  She said she was doing that right now.  The man was flat on his back and I couldn’t help but feel he should be in the recovery position in case of choking but the group seemed to have matters under control.  I saw flashing lights in the distance and helped to flag down the paramedics.  It seems that he had just fallen over in the street but my initial reaction was that he’d either been in a traffic accident or shot in the face.  Nothing surprises me nowadays.

On my journey home I felt depressed and wished I hadn’t left the house.  I kept thinking of that poor man bleeding on the pavement whilst the heavens opened.  For all my wishful thinking and daily gratitude practice I cannot shake off the dark shadow that is my constant companion.  The sucker of joy.  My misery parasite.  It seems we cannot live without each other.

Saturday, 9 July 2016

As One Door Closes

................................................another one opens.

Thursday, 7 July 2016

Happy Days

I contacted the local garden centre to find out if there were any job vacancies.  I had a quick response to my inquiry and was told that if I took in my CV they would keep my details on file should a vacancy arise.  Yeh right.

Anyway, I took myself up to the nursery to buy some pelargoniums and plant food.  The pelargoniums (or geraniums as they like to call them) were housed in a very hot greenhouse.  In fact it was so hot I could hardly breathe and I was thankful that there hadn't been any job available to me!   I don't think I would have lasted more than a day. The pelargoniums looked sparse and unloved and I couldn't find any that I was drawn to.

There was a welcome cool breeze out in main nursery and I found a bench of perky looking dahlias.  There were big flouncy ones and cute pom poms but I was drawn to one in particular called 'Happy Days'.  This plant was lemon with dark foliage and the name resonated with me.  Happy days, happy days, happy days........

I picked up Happy Days and headed for the counter where a chinless man pushed his trolley in front of me with his purchases.  Brash and loud he took a call on his mobile whilst the cashier waited for payment.  I stood observing, unnoticed.

I forgot the plant food.

Tuesday, 5 July 2016

Life Coach



The life coach took a while to open her suburban door.  She stood behind it and composed herself before opening it to the stranger on the doorstep.  Dressed to the nines she showed a toothy grin, shook the stranger’s hand and led the way into the house.

The stranger sat at the glass table whilst the life coach made herself a calming cup of tea.  They exchanged pleasantries about the quietness of the street and a cool breeze circled around the seating area from the open doors that led into the garden.

‘Did you manage to fill out the life values sheet?’  ‘No.  I kept changing my mind.’ ‘Oh.  Not to worry there are other things we can do.’

The life coach asked probing questions and scribbled down onto paper as the stranger (now promoted to client) opened up their heartfelt desires.  The life coach asked if the client was aware of the power of attraction and in turn the client asked if she was aware of scanner personality types and the sub divisions of those types and whether or not she was aware of Myers-Brigg personality tests.  The life coach asked what a scanner personality was and the client tried to describe it in brief as time was money.

‘Have you ever heard of a mood board?’  ‘Yes’.  She showed the client a pin board covered in clippings of images from magazines.  ‘I would like you to collect images and words from magazines that appeal to you and pin them to a board.’  ‘Does it have to be a big notice board?’  ‘No it can be as big or small as you like or even in a book.’  The client nodded.  The client could do this.  The client had been doing this for years.

The session started to veer towards counselling rather than coaching and the life coach told the client that she was passionate about her work and that this was a new career for her after returning to work.  She had suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from a job she had done previously.  The client observed how the life coach power dressed in high heels and had carefully coiffured hair.

The client poured out a couple of decades of problems and unhappiness right there at the glass table.  The client hated glass tables.  Glass table and cream shag pile carpet that could be seen beneath gave a very ‘80’s vibe.  The client felt dirty as though thoughts shouldn’t be shared out loud in a private dwelling.  It felt wrong.

At the end of the session the client was given some homework.  Every negative thought was to be changed with ‘How can I make this thought or feeling into a better thought or feeling’ and to start collecting images from magazines for the mood board.
 
The client was glad that she had visited the life coach.  She had learned a valuable lesson.  The answer to life’s purpose wasn’t going to come from an outsider.  The answers to her life’s purpose lay buried deep within.