Posts

Holiday Magic

-
Image
Eight p.m. and the room was ready — as if set for a scene from a Hallmark movie. Every surface was decorated with little touches that reflected the season and its sense of magical wonder. The subtext — well, hardly “sub”text — was peace, love, and joy. Every year, she worked quietly, alone, gladly, with great confidence. This would be the year the evening matched the scene. On the mantle were arranged an even dozen beeswax candles, tapers, in her grandmother’s crystal holders. Their flickering light reflected in the shiny glass to amplify their warm glow. In the spot where once a fire would have been set sat a beautiful wicker basket filled with fresh-cut cedar boughs adorned with small ornaments — silver and gold, and just one red one to stand out for special note. On either side, on handsome brick stands, stood a large flourishing poinsettia — a mix of red and white leaves, some special hybrid variety her local garden centre had recommended as offering exceptional impact. But the fir...
11 comments
Read more

Imagination, doubt and hope are the superpowers of creative work

-
Image
Amanda, about 10 years of age, in her 'princess' skirt When I was a little girl, my imagination was vivid and I spent many a happy hour not just playing at but — in my mind — being a princess; being a successful business woman running an office; and being Audra, the lone daughter on the Barkley Ranch from  The Big Valley TV series . I sometimes played with friends, but I was comfortable playing on my own, too, comfortable playing with imaginary characters, talking to myself, and working out plots and escapades that suited my mood and, let’s be honest, my desire to control the scenario! My imagination ran free and I had loads of fun. Now, as a more tempered and considered adult, I still employ my imagination — not to be someone different, but, actually, to be fully myself. I think, at least in part, I see myself as Writer today because I nurtured the seed my imagination planted in my head and in my heart: You could be a Writer, Amanda. Be a Writer, Amanda! Sure, I have moment...
2 comments
Read more

Taylor Swift is not my creative muse

-
Image
Amanda age about 8 or so: Tutus and foot positions no longer figure in my creative endeavours... Taylor Swift has left the building — and this country. She completed her ERAS tour with three shows in Vancouver, the last one on Sunday evening. I have followed, with some bewilderment, the news pieces on this pop-world phenomenon who draws crowds by the tens of thousands and whose show requires about 90 trucks to transport the staging, (sequinned) costumes and other equipment from venue to venue. Taylor is adored, inspiring fans of all ages, and I am genuinely happy for those who have been able to see their musician hero in concert. It is, indeed, a thrill to hear favourite songs performed live by a beloved artist, surrounded by others who feel as you do. That collective experience of a creative force is powerful and inspiring. I know that feeling. The impact of being in the audience that is feeding the artist’s energy and performance and witnessing the artist giving their all for that a...
3 comments
Read more

The hard work of giving — and receiving

-
Image
The gift from my godmother was an anthology of children’s stories — a replica of one already on the family bookshelf, but I was happy to receive my very own copy for my own shelf. Which is exactly what my seven-year-old self said in the thank you note that I was laboriously composing at the kitchen table while my mother did the dishes. When Mum read my words, she suggested that I maybe didn’t need to include the bit about the family already having a copy, but I insisted. I likely thumped my fist on the table and maybe I stormed off in a huff at having my message edited; I can well imagine I might have. In the end, I believe the note was sent as I had written it; maybe not, I don’t remember. But what I do remember is the feeling of fraughtness associated with a gift given and the obligation to acknowledge it in a socially and personally acceptable way. In short, what I remember to this day  — and know from ongoing experience  —  is that gift giving and gift receiving is ha...
8 comments
Read more

How to shift your mood: Do something!

-
Image
My mood   One day last week, my mood was dark, irritable, sad. I couldn’t shake it. It sat on my shoulder like a cloud, feelings heavy enough to push me off kilter. That evening, despite my mood, I was obliged to attend my monthly online ‘writing for pleasure’ group because I host the  Zoom sessions  —  and I’m so glad I did, because the group’s presence on my screen and the writing that the session inspired quite shifted my mood, and I was reminded, once again, how true it is what my friend Karen said many years ago: “I can shift my mood by putting on lively music and dancing in the living room.” She might not have said the dancing part, but the music part she definitely said. For me, that evening last week, the music was the company of my fellow writers; the dancing was the writing that the session’s leader invited us to do. All day I had shunned company, avoided connection, tuned out by going online for nonsense. But that evening, the very thing I thought I hadn’t...
5 comments
Read more

The fall is not the thing...

-
Image
... a true story, but it may hold within it a metaphor for our times The fall is not the thing it’s the getting up that counts and even more it is the next-day moving that matters that tells the tale of deep-inside reverberations of the fall. The other day I fell off the curb while carrying in groceries from the car one minute upright the next, a slip unintended a tumble,  then lying on the ground  dignity disappeared. Expletive. Arise. Assess. No breaks!  Carry on. But the next morning the evidence is felt the soreness of hip the catch in the shoulder the strain in the wrist that took the brunt. Expletive No breaks! Get moving. My father fell many times and, once, in front of me. At the airport a curb felled him. He, too, got up, though with the help of a kind and strong — and young — stranger who heaved him upright as if featherweight. Dad suffered no ill effects. Remarkable. Tough as nails. Resilience personified. For me, this first fall came unexpected was most star...
3 comments
Read more

This is how we make the world good and beautiful and kind

-
Image
A poem by Langston Hughes was the 'spark' in a recent writing group session; in response, I wrote the story below. Its essence speaks loudly to me in the wake of last week's US election results: Each of us must do what we can to move this world in the right direction.  I am so tired of waiting, Aren’t you, For the world to become good And beautiful and kind. excerpt from TIRED by Langston Hughes When is a table a door?   Yasmina took her seat on the makeshift bleachers, as she had dozens of times before. But today felt different. Today was different. Today, she was here to watch her son defend his championship title. His first ever title, won so brilliantly last year. He had overcome the great odds of his early childhood to find his feet in this cold northern land and to make a place for himself in this challenging community of newcomers and refugees. Downtown had never been what she had imagined when she had been told that’s where her apartment was waiting for her and her...
4 comments
Read more