Painting people can be a massive pain in the ass. I mean, you just get one thing a bit off and it looks like a completely different person.
I decided, once and for all, that it was time to get better at drawing people. Doing it in colour scared me, so I did it in monochrome.
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I used to think that when the house got too dirty, my husband would take one look at it and decide that instead of cleaning it himself, now was the perfect time to royally piss me off.
Because boy can I clean in a rage.
As my temper explodes like Mount Vesuvius, violently spewing forth a deadly cloud of super-heated gases high into the sky, ejecting molten rock, pulverized pumice and hot ash at 1.5 million tons per second, the tiniest thing out of place becomes a target.
I clean the kitchen with loud determination. I wipe surfaces clean of dust with forceful intent. I aggressively vacuum carpets to within an inch of their lives.
I deposit trash by the front door with a fury and purpose that would make Lyssa, the ancient Greek goddess for mad rage, envious.
The house becomes a scene from a disaster movie, with children and spouses running barely ahead of the impending doom, squealing in terror and picking up favourite toys and clothes before they’re sucked into the cleaning tornado never to be seen again.
And oh the humanity, the socks. 🙉
Socks EVERYWHERE.
Balled up in the couch. Shoved into bookshelves. Left on top of shoes. Lounging casually on stairs. Reposing under the kitchen table. Thrown over the armrest of the easy chair. And very rarely in pairs, like they were never meant to have mates.
I think a messy kitchen and dishes left all over the house are my biggest triggers these days.
That, and stepping on Legos. There’s nothing like a Lego underfoot to make the rage travel instantly from that pointy sonofabitch up your body until the top of you head blows off like a cartoon.
What about you? What makes you scrub the house like the whole damn thing needs to be sent to its room and think about what it did?
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They say knowing a person is like music. What attracts us to them is their melody and as we get to know them better, we learn the lyrics.
Now, this is where it gets tricky because a lot of my favourite music is often without lyrics!
Deep house, electronica and classical is the kind of music that washes over me like an ocean and sets my soul on fire, sparks a cosmic dance in my very being. Back in dance school, I used to willingly drown myself in this type of music in class, letting my soul float off on the tunes like a kite.
The kind of music I happen to like is very sparse on words or the words are limited and repetitive. Or they’re those songs where the lyrics aren’t very clear, so you spend a long time singing them wrong, until one day you look them up and discover that not only have you been getting them belting-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-wrong, the real lyrics make very little sense without more context (so you go back to singing them your way).
My point is: what lyrics you’ll hear as we become the best of friends is really anyone’s guess!
So, what about you? What kind of music makes up the original soundtrack to your life?
Hit pause on life with me for a bit and let’s get to know each other better!
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I love making great art. Happy art. My art isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But it could be yours.
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A woman is a marvellous thing.
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Birth isn’t just about making babies. It’s also about making mothers: strong, competent, capable mothers who trust themselves and know their inner strength.
As wonderful as modern technology is, the medicalisation of birth has distanced us from that inner strength and diminished our connection to ourselves during this transformational process.
The time following giving birth is one of openness and healing. You may feel leaky – both literally and energetically – and not quite like yourself yet.
Traditional midwifery has some wonderful traditions and bodywork techniques that will support you through this time of transitioning and aid in your healing.
Any time is a good time to celebrate birth, motherhood and being a woman!
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Nurturing life in your own body is no small task – after all, it takes 9 months before they’re even ready to come into the world.
You go through tremendous changes in your body, at times you’ll even feel like it has a mind of its own and you’re just along for the ride.
Unexpected things create bends and twists in your journey that further strain and damage your body in new ways.
Yet, many of us will soon start dreaming of going back to a physical state we possessed prior to beginning this whole process. And for what?
Most women will still look pregnant for a good while after giving birth (unlike what you can come across in the media). And your body will have changed, even if you do manage to get back to looking how you used to.
Focusing on looks, rather than the birth and new baby, only sends a message that women’s priority should be to look pretty and be easy breeders.
Are we setting unrealistic expectations for women after birth?
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“A quality education has the power to transform societies in a single generation, provide children with the protection they need from hazards of poverty, labour exploitation and disease, and give them the knowledge, skills and confidence to reach their full potential.” – Audrey Hepburn
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