As I walked into the character of a fantasy novel I’m reading – I realized what was wrong with my life. I’d come to a cross road, knew I…
As I walked into the character of a fantasy novel I’m reading – I realized what was wrong with my life. I’d come to a cross road, knew I wanted something but couldn’t pin point what it was I needed to do. The essays the character writes in the book – follows his thoughts on his lfie and his journey. / Picking up that particuar book – at that time – perfectly mirrored my own thoughts and helped me tremendously. It was an enlivening experience, to share and be comforted by another’s perceptions of life. / The hand of fate came calling and rescued me. / Now I can’t wait to finish the fantasy novel I’m writing and to take more time out for my artwork. The Writer is R A Salvatore an the Dark Elf Series.
I wrote this morning. rehashing my previous evening’s outburst. Replaying my bad parenting so I could feel crappy about it again and agai…
I wrote this morning. rehashing my previous evening’s outburst. Replaying my bad parenting so I could feel crappy about it again and again and maybe make others feel crappy too as they identify their own mirrored flaws. Using descriptive phrases such as “I went off again last night, unpredictable and messy like a homemade bomb” and “my unapologetic sorrys falling like used tissues around the bed” all so that I could preserve, ressurect, dwell upon a fragment of time that I did not enjoy the first go round. Thankfully whatever spirit lives in my computer wisely misplaced the entry. Somewhere between Add this work and Log in now. the weird thing was that I was already logged in…....but in what dimentia….no I mean in what dimention? Spooky, but cool because really, what is the point of recording a movie that you didn’t even enjoy the first time?
A couple of weeks ago I started riding horses again, after a break of about 3 years. For nearly 30 years I have ridden almost every w…
A couple of weeks ago I started riding horses again, after a break of about 3 years. For nearly 30 years I have ridden almost every weekend, often during the week as well, competed in a range of different disciplines, been connected to horses and the horse world in a very close way (I ran the Equestrian Federation of Australia for 5 years). I was privileged to go to many international horse events, including the Sydney Olympic Games, the World Equestrian Games in Italy in 1998, and the World Endurance Championships in Dubai, also in 1998. My own personal horse world was very separate from this public life, as my level of skill was frankly laughable when compared to the people I mixed with on a daily basis. My riding world revolved around lessons with a trusted coach, for many years on my trusted thoroughbred Jack, with occasional forays into the competitive world in dressage, eventing, showjumping, and a little bit of Western thrown in for good measure, on a crazy Appaloosa. But 3 years ago this happy world came to an end, when I fell out with the people who had agisted my horses and taught me for all those years (a long story and a private one). During this last 3 years I rode a couple of times on a friend’s horse, in a forest and on a beach (divine), slung a leg on a crazy orang-utang in the backblocks of Anatolia in Turkey (a VERY long story!), and then last year had a guided ride through the Bavarian woods on a wonderful Westphalian mare, all class and beauty. Three weeks ago I began lessons again with my original coach. I worked out that if you stay angry, you probably get cancer … for me, the opportunity to ride schooled safe horses, in an environment I knew and trusted, far outweighed any residual bitterness I had about our previous relationship. There were a few nervous moments, not least from me, that my now ageing and increasingly stiff body would fail me when I asked it to do what it had last done 3 years ago. In recent times, I had been unable to even turn around to reverse my car, without groaning and creaking. Getting out of bed could be an ordeal … For the first 5 minutes or so, as I awkwardly and no doubt very clumsily went around the school on a forgiving and understanding horse, in a robot-like rising trot, I thought all my worst fears had indeed been realised. ‘And now, sitting trot’. My heart plummeted. This was going to be the humiliating end of my attempted comeback. Three strides later, I realised that it was as though I had never been off the horse in those years. My back relaxed, my mind sent all the right messages to legs and hands, and I spent one of the most enjoyable hours I have ever experienced. When I got off, I could basically move like a puppet on a string, free of most of the aches and pains I have been experiencing since I stopped riding. Sure, the following day I was a bit sore, but only for 24 hours. I went back the next weekend, and had a wonderful time, again, with absolutely no stiffness the following day. This last weekend, I rode on Saturday, in a group mainly of children and adult beginners. I have never minded riding with beginners, as I get the opportunity to concentrate on myself and the horse, without as much pressure as I experience if I’m riding with people at the same level of understanding. On Sunday I had a private lesson, and achieved one of the benchmarks that dressage riders appreciate, the flying change, on command. Sure, the horse is schooled to do them, but I found the right buttons, and pressed them at the right time! All of this is the long way around to sharing what has been a most affirming and rewarding experience for me – to rediscover skills and feelings which I thought perhaps I might never experience again, and in a way which felt as thiough there had been no time elapsed. At my age (57), this is a wonderful thing, as it confirms for me that, barring accidents and ill-health, I can go on doing this until I’m too old to get on a horse – and since I’ve always used a chair to get on, to save twisting the horse’s back, I reckon I’ve got at least 20 more years! Thanks for getting this far in a long journal entry – I wanted to share this epiphany with my Bubble friends.
Walking to the edge of the ramp, I felt calm, wanting to get away from everything, to think, but more than that I wanted to see those box…
Walking to the edge of the ramp, I felt calm, wanting to get away from everything, to think, but more than that I wanted to see those boxes. The park that this ramp looks over has these cement boxes, some raised and others built into the ground, and all of them have memories etched into the sides. Looking out at that field with the wind gently blowing my long, dark hair while waiting makes this feel like a movie scene. That reminds me of a quote an old teacher of mine once said: “If your life was a book, would anyone want to read it?” I would like to think that at least one person would pick mine up, but would it even stand out? So I have some ‘daddy issues’ with abuse, but who does not nowadays? It is sad to think that family problems like that are considered average. / ‘Why am I here?’ the thought whispers itself from some hidden crevice in my mine; not here as in life, I already believe I know why, and not here as in college, because I am here to learn. Mainly, I am here to learn how to write books, ones people will want to read and also ones I simply need to write. ‘Why am I here?’ I am waiting for my friends so we can go to lunch together. I am waiting for someone to call me with more details about meeting up. I am waiting for something to happen. I am waiting… A clock in the distance chimes noon, meaning that I have two minutes left. / Spotting a bench not too far off, and still in view of our designated meeting location, I decide to go over and sit on it. In the almost month I have been here, I have never noticed this bench; this bench, which I must have passed numerous times. The engraving on the front reads: Presented to Ohio University / Class of 1991 This bench has been here as long as I have been alive, yet I have never seen it, just like how others have not seen it and how others have simply walked past me without so much as a glance. I like this bench. / Checking the time, I see it is five past noon, so I decide to go over to one of the girl’s rooms, seeing as it is in the building right next to my own. As I do, it starts to rain, only slightly. The breeze picks up and causes the still-dry leaves to swirl around as the crunching sound of those I step on reaches my ears. This truly looks like a movie scene; all we are missing is the angst-y thoughts of jumping off the look-out at the edge of the ramp. Walking over I pass under an almost canopy of trees and find that under one is a scattering of bird feathers. Thankfully it seems as though there was no fighting, rather a shedding of feathers. They look beautiful, lying there amongst the pine cones and needles underneath the towering trees that overlook this area of the campus with pride. / Unable to find her amongst the few wandering students, I decide to sit and wait near the door. There are a few benches around, but I do not wish to sit on a bench, rather something more interesting, less common (no offense to my bench that I sat on earlier; rather, a compliment) so I sit on a block of cement that acts as a pedestal, marked with a band-aid. This is where I wait, and this is where I will start to leave my own mark on the world.
I am frustrated with my art. I want the next level but don’t know what the next level is; furthermore, I don’t have the freedom of time t…
I am frustrated with my art. I want the next level but don’t know what the next level is; furthermore, I don’t have the freedom of time to explore serendipity and epiphany where I feel the most magic in art is lived. / So here I am, walking, more like pacing in my head, art …..... art who …....... lives in the interior darkness.
Hey everyone! I have just entered some of my art in a photography competition. I would love for you all to vote for me ;) You can vote mo…
Hey everyone! I have just entered some of my art in a photography competition. I would love for you all to vote for me ;) You can vote more than once, but only once every 24 hours. You can vote for me here Love, / Sarah
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