Shapeshifting

Driveby posting

We are, as a family, in a bit of a state of limbo at the moment. Charlie has potential big work changes on the horizon and I'm considering some myself. The 3YP as was is still running to the same destination but the route seems to be changing. I'll write a bit more about that next week when the dust has settled and I have more time.

In the meantime I'll just say that I had a very splendid Sunday with some of the BBCers. Pen, Sas (whose home is like something out of a design magazine), Susannah and LeonieWise were as inspiring and hilarious and kind and generally gorgeous as ever and even though two of our magnificent seven were absent, we managed to whip up some magic that hopefully will whisk all of us into 2010 with a big smile on our collective face. I love my girls.

I've been living in my head most of the last week or so which has meant that everything requiring a practical touch has suffered from neglect. But it's been good work. Worthwhile. I've learnt a lot about my self and where I want to go next.

Ain't it the truth? The minute you say to yourself,"I've got a good idea of who I am and where I'm going and I understand where I've been" then you realise that you've just unwrapped another layer. You may technically be nearer the prize but there's a few rounds left in the game yet.

Next!

Happy Friday.

Hecate

Lighting a candle this new moon? I will be.

My child the genius, part 125

Yesterday, Evie was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing and cutting. She put something in my hand and said she'd made it for me. I don't have a photo but it looked just like this:

Now, I can do this easily enough but I was just a little surprised to see someone who is only just 4 doing it. I asked her if someone had taught her. She said,"Yes, Mister Maker on the telly." She must have seen it demonstrated once.

Scary kid. Next up...the origami mobile she can make me for xmas.

We interrupt this programme

I know these aren't new but I'm new to them. Love Armstrong and Miller, love them more now. I've had a rubbish day and they've just had me crying with laughter. Enjoy.

By the water

I want to marry Ingrid Chavez. I'm just saying.

Style Statement? Moi?

 Sacred Natural (c) Jo Hanlon-Moores

When I first got my copy of Style Statement by Carrie McCarthy and Danielle LaPorte, I'll be honest with you, it wasn't love at first sight. If it hadn't been recommended to me I wouldn't have bought it because yes, sometimes I do judge a book by its cover and to me this one yelled How To Dress Like It's 1985.

Shame on me. Or not. Whatever. I'm pearl-averse, sue me.

I'm so glad I looked past the front cover because this book is not only enjoyable to work through, it's genuinely inspiring and helpful if you're at all motivated to discover your style statement. That's a statement that can apply to the clothes you wear but also - and more importantly for me - to other areas of your life. It's discovering more about yourself, your taste, your passion and your values.

Remember I'm no artist, I have no history of defining my artistic mission statement. No one cares what I look like so I've never had to define myself by my look - not to say I didn't, but it wasn't essential that I got it right. As an adult, my creativity has been so small scale that I could dress it up how I liked. But since I started to look at it as a more important part of my life and who I am, I've been trying to track my way back to some kind of defining structure. A style.

It's not easy working through Style Statement. You have to work hard not to be swayed by current favourites or crushes but instead be honest and true to what really feels like you. I'm not going to go into how it works but ultimately a process of elimination leaves you with a pile of words that really mean something to you. From there you narrow them down to a two word statement. Those two words may be singular statements of their own, or represent a group of others. That's pretty much how I got one of mine.

Style Statement claims to work on the 80/20 measure. One word will be 80% of you - your foundation. The other will be 20% - your creative edge. As you'll have gathered from the photos above, my style statement is Sacred Natural. It took me two goes to get this right; my first attempt was done in a hurry, for the last bit anyway, with a small child 'helping' and it showed in the result. I hadn't read the instructions properly or indeed my pile o'words. As ever with me...second time lucky and when I got it right I KNEW I'd got it right.

The definitions I use for Sacred and Natural are the ones given in Style Statement, not necessarily your handy thesaurus. Both are quite lengthy but here's some highlights if you're interested...

Sacred: Spiritually and theosophically curious...perpetually searching for or creating meaning...habitually reflective, looking for divine synchronicity and lessons in everything (need I go on?). Often the one to initiate change, be that a promising beginning or a necessary end. Sacred walks a fine line between ruthless discrimination and tremendous tolerance...loves to mark moments of progress and insight with celebrations small and quiet or grand...feel and promote interconnectedness...nourishes itself by retreating...takes great solace in privacy and solitude, ritual and unbounded time...spiritual communion as their core inspiration...etc etc

Natural: Genuine and free from artificiality, affectation and inhibitions...hates to be fenced in...riles against conformity and unreasonable rules although they are rooted in moral certainty and a strong sense of justice. At ease with their essential selves...often very instinctive, sensuous...aren't strangers to hedonism or pleasure-seeking...love to get down to basics and can be graceful and direct communicators...down to earth literally and figuratively, Natural has a deep reverence and respect for nature and ecological systems, which delights and replenishes them, and an appreciation of supernatural forces.

There's obviously way more to this. A whole book's worth. A whole book worth reading.

Where you take your style statement is up to you. So far I've found it to be wonderful company.

#dearUniverse

I can't remember who it was who started the idea that the Universe could be reached via Twitter - I think it was Sister Carrie - but the #dearUniverse hash tag has become very useful. And, y'know, why not?

So a while back I used both that and #puttingitoutthere to tweet that I was in need of a two seater sofa for the kitchen. Yesterday, such a sofa came up on our local Freecycle and the lovely Estelle agreed not only to let me have it, but to deliver. For free. Thank you Estelle and thank you Universe.

My tongue was just slightly in my cheek with my thanks to the U - even though the aforementioned Sister Carrie tweeted that the U showed enormous common/universal sense in not granting me the faux cream leather when I have a 4 year old and a cupboard full of marker pens. Instead we have a very attractive dark blue fabric. Nice. I decided to decide it was a gift to me from the U and accepted it gleefully.

This evening, after all was set up and cosy, we settled in the kitchen. The heater had been mysteriously turned off in the living room (it charges overnight and so won't be warm again until tomorrow) so for once, Charlie gritted his dog-loathing teeth and joined us downstairs. We have one room on each of four floors with a nice, big kitchen on the ground floor where the dogs live when they're not charging around fields.

For a while, he and Evie shared the sofa while he blogged and she chattered. I sat at the table and listened and helped draw SpongeBob and Patrick.

After she was safely tucked up in bed asleep I came back downstairs to the kitchen. I curled up on the new sofa with The Secret Life of Bees (which I finished and loved) and drifted off to the world of the Daughters of Mary.

Then at one point, possibly stopping to think about getting some chocolate from the fridge, I looked up and saw Charlie sitting on the floor next to the sofa, back against the heater, laptop on his outstretched legs. Between him and the sofa, near his feet, sat Jackson, either rapt in thoughts or zoned out (yep, the latter gets my vote too). On Charlie's other side, eyes fixed firmly on me, lay Nellie. As my eyes met hers she jumped up and lay on my feet.

This may not sound extraordinary to you but trust me, it was. My dog-loving ways are anathema to Charlie. He loathes the two (three if you count the cat, and you should) animals who have been with me for years longer than he has. Does not understand the love I feel for them. Avoids them as much as is possible.

It's okay. If he was a dog-lover I may have to kill him for being too perfect. Every mill needs its grist, right? As long as that grist doesn't hurt anyone, two-footed or four. I've got used to having the grand canyon wind its way through my heart with Charlie and the animals on separate sides. Evie flies between both with such grace and passion that it kind of heals the gash.

I don't expect it to become a regular occurrence. I doubt it will ever happen again, but for a moment there, I saw that the sofa really was a gift from the U. For a moment there, my life was perfect and how many people ever get to have that? 

Today I was given a dream evening at a time when I really needed it. Maybe the Universe, maybe a stranger's generosity, maybe both. I'll take it and go off to bed with a big smile on my face.

Happy Tuesday.

Natural

It was a beautiful day out here today. I did a lovely walk with my dogs, then swapped them for Charlie and Evie and we did another walk and then I swapped them for my running shoes and went off on my own for a short while.

It does a woman good. All of the above.

The cycles of nature are my downfall. Spring and Autumn bring physical, mental and emotional changes that can make some weeks tough or frantic or exhausting in a more extreme way than just my normal life. Not unmanageable, but yes, difficult.

But...

it's the cycles of nature that heal me. The visual beauty of the changing seasons, the sounds, scents and textures of life; the predictability, the rhythm, the familiarity and the anticipation of something old but new...I need them like I need oxygen. They make me strong.

What brings me down, lifts me up. I am woven into the rhythms of our seasons and I am so thankful for that. In that rhythm I find strength and patience. In the animals and plants that follow the same dance, I find connection. In the sunshine of a November day I feel held safe in the arms of Mother Nature.

New

Today I went to have a tattoo inked over with another one. I had a small paw print done on the inside of my wrist a year ago and although I've never regretted it, I have wished that it was bigger and better. Today was the day I got that wish.

I went back to the place that had done the last one. It's an old school tattoo studio. None of your 'body art' talk - although they do incredible work. This place has two middle-aged guys doing the ink and a young, completely tattooed, face-pierced dude who takes care of the desk and does some of the piercing. He is the sweetest, most polite guy you'll ever meet. 

Anyway, the eldest guy is the one who does most of the artwork. He's probably about my age, maybe a bit older. Overweight. Thinning hair. Not a tattoo on him. Dressed in black. Beard. Retired biker type. Almost entirely silent. Balances a very uncool pair of spectacles on the end of his nose to see his work nowadays.

It takes him about 20 minutes to do the tattoo. He asks me if it's hurting when the outlining needle makes me want to scream and I'm clearly thinking,"This is a big design...I'm going to struggle with the pain." Reminds me that the 'filling-in gun' is less painful (and it really is almost painless). Other than that he says nothing.

Does a brilliant job.

At the end as he's spraying and wiping my forearm he nods towards the back room where the other, older guy is working. "Danny's dog's sick."

"Oh no," I say. "I'm sorry, that's awful. I have two older dogs and I'm always aware that the 13 year old is on borrowed time. I can't think about it."

"His is 13," he says. "I've been through it twice myself (shakes his head)...dreadful."

I nod.

"I've got an Alsatian x Dachshund now."

"Wow," I say. "I thought my Corgi x Lurcher was odd-looking! That's some mix!"

He walks to the desk and pulls out his phone. Clicks through some frames until he finds one that makes his eyes light up. Holds it out to me.

"Oh she's beautiful," I say because she is. A small, gorgeous German Shepherd with huge eyes.

He blushes. A sweet smile crosses his face as he stares at the phone's screen. "Yeah. Heh. She is. She's alright."

And with that he walks away and goes back into silence.

I love that dogs can make that connection between people even when they're not there in the room with us.

I love that they melt the toughest hearts.

And that's why I started wag, bark, love.