- British Columbia, Canada
I'm a creative. I don't know how to be anything else. Everything I see, hear, smell is fuel for my muse. I've had several careers, but was never content until I found my niche.
Now, I run a home-based studio, FyreWork Designs where I freelance as a photographer, writer and designer. I wear many hats, but love what I do. I enjoy working in variety of artistic venues: digital alchemy, multi-media as well as mixed media. I often use my photography as a springboard to create fanciful images.
You'll find variety here, complete with comments as the muse sees fit. You've been warned ;-)
Oh, and in case you didn't know ... I'm a cancer survivor. Every day I wake up, I've survived!
My Blog List
Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose. .... Tom Krause I love feeling like this ....
"When the world says, "Give up," hope whispers, "Try it one more time." .... Anonymous Fall is fast approaching ...
"Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn't you - all of the expectations, all ...
"We don't have an eternity to realize our dreams, only the time we are here." .... Susan Taylor Once upon a time, a million y...
"There is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, Which through the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if...
"If you haven't any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble." .... Bob Hope As I sat thinking of ...
"No one lies so boldly as the man who is indignant." .... Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche Today was another of those days where you ...
No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another. .... Charles Dickens I have not posted for quite some time. I'v...
"If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you', that would suffice." .... Meister Eckhart Today is ...
Marcel Prudhomme In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in ...
Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose.
I love feeling like this ... fatigued, nauseous, and non-productive.
It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve wanted to post. Honestly ... I have.
However it’s been hectic and just a little stressful. I took part in this amazing experience called NaNoWriMo. I’d tried last year, but fell short of the goal. This year, I decided to put my heart into it and succeeded. Yay me! I’ve got a manuscript ready for polish that I hope to start shopping around come the new year. One hurdle overcome.
I also just started a course of radiation in the hopes of shrinking one of the tumours at the base of my spine and a couple more small ones in my right hip. That had me in a bit of a funk. But then doctors do that to me.
I just came back after getting the 2nd dose ... 10 doses over 10 days ... and strangely, I’m finding the pain and stiffness already diminishing. Hurray! It’ll be wonderful to be able to walk again like a real person, instead of just limping along. That’s the hope.
I’ve been told I probably shouldn’t do anything like ride a bike or cross-country ski for fear of fracturing the hip, and I’ll be good.... for now .... But I’m determined to rebuild the bone to be better and stronger. Shades of bionic ... lol
Anyways ... loving the steroid pills I have to take for the nausea ... NOT! It didn’t help yesterday. Was violently ill. One of my favourite pastimes is hanging my head over the porcelain throne. Let’s hope today goes a little better. I don’t have time to be sick. I’m a volunteer photographer for the help-portrait event this Saturday and that’s so important to me. Not to mention, working on my novel, checking in with clients ... well you get the point.
In the shower today ... where I do a lot of my serious thinking, I realized how much I miss my middle daughter. But in reality, I don’t know that I’ll be making the effort anytime soon to talk to her. This is not the first time she’s abandoned me in a time of crisis.
I’ve been hitting my head against the wall, trying to figure out where I failed as a mother. Was it because I got sick? I never thought it was in the plans. I never thought I’d get cancer. I never thought I’d have to stare my own mortality in the face on a daily basis. I try not to cry, because well ... it really doesn’t fix things. However it is a release and I’ll take that as I can.
I also have to remember she’s still a baby ... only 22. And at 22 life hasn’t handed her enough heartaches to really understand the word compassion ... I did my best to shield her from as much of life’s nastiness as I could. Maybe that was the problem. I never gave her the opportunity to be accountable for her actions.
What is saddest of all, is that though I’ve longed for grandbabies, I don’t know that I could trust myself to get involved should she be lucky enough to have kids ... yes ... I think that far ahead. I’m a writer, don’t ya know ... we plot and plan and theorize and focus ... and we forever dream. But sometimes these dreams turn to nightmares where I love my grandbabies with total abandon only to have her pull them away from me. Don’t think I can go through that kind of loss again. It hurts enough when she pulled herself away.
Ahh to see the world in black and white again. Except that as you get older ... you begin to see the gray ... oh so much gray. Perhaps that’s the lesson she’ll have to learn.
As for me, I take it one day at a time. One hour, if things get really harried. But always I have hope ... and always I believe that everything is for a reason.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
.... John McCrae
Today ... Remembrance Day ... nations gather to remember the fragility of life and the ultimate sacrifice made by the many, so that we could live in peace and freedom.
I grew up hearing stories from my grandmother of the many hardships my family had to endure, in France, during both World Wars. No one escaped the horrors and suffering. She lost many of her siblings, and other family members, in the course of these wars. I remember the pain etched on her face as she recalled the past and loved ones lost. She often talked of my grandfather, who served in the French army. He ended being sent to a German POW camp during WWI, and times were so difficult, he had to eat rats in order to survive.
My father was a young teen when WWII broke out. I remember the faraway look in his eyes when he told me how he was conscripted to work in mines, while helping, in secret, the French Resistance.
My mother’s brother, my uncle, served during WWII with the Canadian army. And though I never met him, I’ve been told he fought with the Royal 22nd Regiment: Canada's famed Fighting 'Van Doos'.
Today, and every November 11th, I make a point to remember them. I wear my poppy proudly, and fight back tears as I tell my children about those who fought so they wouldn’t have to. I have been fortunate. My kids have been fortunate. We live where freedom is a right and war is an unknown.
I lived in Petawawa, one of Canada’s largest army bases, for a few years, as a young bride. It is where my eldest daughter was born. Many of my friends were in the military, and though Canada’s role back then was more of a peacekeeping nature, I know the sacrifices they were making even then. I saw families separated for months on end, so that we could help nations in far off places. Our role today has increased, but our mission remains the same -- to assist those that have asked for our help.
Today, as we go about our daily lives, and enjoy the many luxuries we have, we need to remember, not just on this day, but each and every day, that some of our finest men and woman are waking up in a world a million miles away from our own reality. The lucky ones come home and resume their lives with family and friends. Others come home, broken in body and spirit. Others never come home and leave a legacy of tears.
Let us continue to support our veterans and all those who proudly serve this great country of ours, now and in the future.
.... Phyllis Diller
Thanks for all the awareness, but now we need to do more than just stand up and fight. We need to kick cancer to the curb!
You can’t wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.
.... Jack London
So, I’ve embarked on a bit of a fun ride, for now. I’m literally escaping reality for a while and it feels good.
For the rest of this next month -- the next 25 days to be exact, I’ll be working furiously to finish my novel. If luck is with me, my manuscript will be ready to be shopped around before the new year.
Writing has always been an escape for me. It’s a place where I can create my own world and control the elements within it. Well ... most of the time. Sometimes characters have their own mind. However, unlike the real world, nothing is beyond my ability to change it.
I’m looking at more tests soon and I’m trying hard not to focus on it. Even though I’m getting better, there’s always that fear, that never-ending fear. And so, I’d rather retreat into a place I know: a place of my own making. As a result, this is a perfect time to retreat into never-neverland.
This is National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo for short. It’s a month where those crazy enough to take on the challenge find that their lives revolve around word counts, plots, characters and scenes. Everything else fades to black and for me, it’s a wonderful meditation.
This particular work-in-progress isn’t my tell-all story; I may tackle that one during the Script Frenzy in April. Although I've been told, from those who know my story, that it’ll have to be written as fiction. Few would believe my story was real.
And this book? It's a paranormal. Well ... I won’t give it away, but I’d be careful if someone whispered my name ...
I remember when, as a little girl she would cry, telling me she never wanted to leave home. Even when I would tell her that one day she’d grow up and have her own life, she would stubbornly tell me that she was always going to stay with me.
Although I taught her to be strong, I never thought that she’d be the one to walk away. And that has delivered the hardest blow.
I have three wonderful children -- three brilliant masterpieces for whom I cannot claim responsibility. But children are never to be seen as extensions of ourselves. That can lead to such sorrow. Rather, as the great Kahlil Gibran said when asked:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archers sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also loves the bow that is stable.
.... Albert Einstein
October 20th, people everywhere were asked to wear purple in honour of six gay boys who tragically committed suicide. Six young lives that were cut short as a result of bullying. Purple was chosen as it represents spirit on the LGBT flag. And it is this spirit we need to sustain.
How very sad to think that the pressure became so intense, for these young boys, that they saw no other way out than to take their own lives. What a dark place they must have gotten to, that this was their only form of escape.
I am writing this because as wonderful as the symbolism of wearing purple on this one day is, we need to remember that bullying needs to be quelled the rest of the year. We all need to find ways, no matter how small, to show we can make a difference.
Don’t laugh the next time you hear a ‘gay’ joke. Don’t just stand by if you hear someone being ridiculed because they don’t ‘fit’ in. Be a voice for those that can’t speak, for those so downtrodden and sad that they no longer see the light.
People need to understand the devastating and long-lasting effects this kind of bullying causes. Some people are strong enough to weather the insults and rise above them. Others buckle under the weight of depression.
As the sister of a gay man. I know the suffering he’s endured at the hands of those wishing to make him feel inferior. I know how it has affected his spirit, his joy and his outlook on life. It’s a weight he’s never been able to remove. He’s faced unending discrimination and has been badly beaten for no reason, other than the fact that he was gay. He`s a professional, with a brilliant mind. Isn`t that what counts? Why can’t people see the wonderful human being he is.
Let’s take the time, not just on October 20th, but each and every day, to remember to give a hand to those who’s spirit needs strength ... not use hurtful words or violence. Let’s stop discriminating against those we perceive as different. What we need is tolerance. Tolerance to let others live their lives in peace.
I have wonderful friends and family who are gay and lesbian, and I personally think the world would be much more sombre without their voices and exuberance. This world is made up of so many different individuals ... each and everyone of us is unique. We should stand united, not divided, to ensure that no one else’s family goes through the suffering and pain of losing a loved one so senselessly.
.... Rachel Naomi Remen
The following is the comment left by 'threadpuller':
actually all the comments here, besides your own are tagged 'anon'. skepticism is important, esp. when one sounds critical~like your accusations! i don't know your situations, except as you portray them, so help me comprehend: you were a passive victim? a faultless saint, seeking blog martyrdom-?by the way, what is your motive? seeking validation, or "poor you" by sycophants? back pedal as much as want, but i smell a thinly veiled agenda, as well as hatred...unless i am guilty of "psychological projection"(ever heard of it?)if i strike too close to home,will you poison pen a blog about me!?in your salacious attempt at expose, maybe you have revealed too much-about yourself! be courageous, explain the "third side"=take responsibilty for a fault entirely your own! MetaPhysician, Heal thy Self!! (you are a self proclaimed reiki master, no?) is anyone else wondering about the rancour of her one-sided character-assasination? is the tone not inconsistent with manufactured persona of sage?of course you're only human-not unlke the rest ofus, incl. your family...walk in light, feet in shadow (never took a step on the left-handed path?)wishing you strength!it would be unfair to pick on someone sick, after all. how bout pics of narcissus or posey"s(sic)
Because I believe in presenting all sides and preserving what is left of the truth, I will attempt to deal with some of the concerns voiced by a very angry ‘commenter’. I know who it is, and I know why they’re doing it. But that’s not really the point, is it?
So ... threadpuller do you really want to ‘comprehend’ or do you simply want to find a new avenue of attack?
“Would be unfair to pick on someone sick, after all” is nothing but a nasty attempt to point out that I have a DISease – one that almost killed me this summer. That being so, WHY, pray tell, would the decent and kind soul you claim my sister to be, act in such a disgusting manner?
Please ... I urge you to tell me her side? Or the stories you’ve been told ... I can assure you they are lies. It’s all she does. I don’t think she would know the truth if it dropped at her feet. It’s part of HER illness.
You didn’t strike too close to home, and my agenda is NOT ‘thinly veiled.’ I’m rather vocal about it. However I don’t like leaving things unfinished. I promise this isn’t going to be a poison blog about you ... I really couldn’t care less about who you are. But you’ve made some false accusations, and I’ll try to clear them up. After all ... it is MY good name you besmirch while you hide behind the curtains.
My reason for this blog was to highlight that it wasn’t a bad diet that contributed to my illness, but the endless stress I had to endure on a constant basis. My entire life, I was told I was responsible for being the ‘big sister’ and rescuing my siblings. I can’t tell you the countless times I had to run to my sister’s, at my mother’s urgings, because she was too drunk to care for her kids. Or she was facing yet another drama. Every time it was my life that had to be put on hold. It was my kids who suffered. But I can’t remember a time when she was ever there for me. And I certainly had my own saga to endure. Over time, one gets drained. After all, I’m no saint ... or a martyr ;-)
“Self-proclaimed Reiki master?” Ummmmm, you’re not familiar with Reiki, I understand. One becomes a master through work, learning and attunement from one’s teacher. So, no, I’m not self-proclaimed. I’ve earned the rank. And as such, I am using Reiki to help heal my wounds, both past, present and future. Hence, this blog. Nothing is by coincidence.
What is it I want? Pity? No. Revenge? No. Validation? Yes, definitely!! Perhaps a recognition that all the horrible things that were done, DID happen. And an apology. When someone has been wronged ... they usually ask for an apology. I want ... I DESERVE no less. But I dream in colour.
What was my crime in all this? Well, I’m not sure. I’ve wrestled with that. Was it because I was smart? Was it because my hair was red? Was it because I was older? Was it because I was my dad’s favourite? I know I wasn’t my mother’s. I was the bane of her existence.
Or perhaps it was that I was insulting ... yes, I can have a nasty tongue. But in my defence, I don’t come out firing until I’ve been hurt. The intensity of my anger is directly proportional to the amount of hurt I’m feeling. I did not try to turn her children against her? I did not try to lure her husband to bed, or make passes at her boyfriends. I did not take her to court on nothing more than trumped up lies. I did not abandon her out of jealousy and ignore her sons. I did not leave her when she was sick. But these and more she’s done to me.
So I ask again ... what was my crime? Why is it okay for me to be hurt and maligned with no accountability for malicious actions? I’ve tried turning the other cheek so many times there isn’t an inch to spare. Each and every time my help was needed, I was always there. I’ve been doggedly loyal. I just can’t fake it anymore and pretend its okay. THIS is why I’m writing this. Should I have turned my story into a movie-of-the-week? Or write a tell-all book? Would that have been better?
BTW, I love the vocabulary you use ... was it for my benefit or yours? The problem is that when you use BIG words like that, one assumes a certain degree of intellect which also includes proper grammar, spelling, and syntax. But shame on me for assuming. Perhaps you were so busy looking words up in the dictionary you forgot to proofread. ;-)
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.... Sri Guru Granth Sahib
There. I’ve said it. It feels great to finally find that release in being honest. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t have to bow my head in shame thinking it’s me that is at fault.
To carry on the theme of Thanksgiving, I’m grateful that I can finally call my sister out for the obnoxious person that she is. She is a despicable human being who has stooped to levels I didn’t know existed to make my life a living hell. I’ve wrestled with writing this post for a long time. How much should I say? What should I hold back? However, if this is about my healing, then I need to be truthful in all aspects.
Time and again I’ve tried to voice how I felt, but between my sister and my mother (two peas in the same pod) I was constantly told how I was deluded. I must have imagined it all. However, after years of therapy, I was led to the conclusion that they both suffer from altered reality. My sister is a cross addict, a recovering anorexic and a nymphomaniac ... a rather bad combination. My mother ... well she has her own issues, to be discussed later.
Thankfully, over the years, I’ve had witnesses to my ‘imaginary’ trials. Real, live people without whom I’d have truly gone insane.
Had my sister even apologized for the heinous things she’s done, perhaps I could have forgiven her. But not once, has she ever acknowledged any of her transgressions. I won’t get into those now, but bit by bit, I’ll deal with them here. This way, perhaps, I can finally let go the past and the pain that haunts me.
For years, I tried to help her find what she needed. I was there to comfort her over her numerous breakups. I helped her get into rehab when she’d hit her bottom. I refused to enable her habits when everyone else turned a blind eye. But rather than be grateful, she tried her best to destroy every happiness I had.
She’s run the gamut from making passes at my boyfriends and husbands, to taking me to court on criminal charges based on nothing but lies, to trying to convince my kids that I abused them. She even abandoned me when I was diagnosed with cancer, never even enquiring how the surgeries had gone. Why? I have no idea. Except for the fact that she’s mentally unstable.
Why am I telling you all this? Because after years of her abuse and lies, after being so ill this summer I thought I would die, she wanted to come up to ‘help’ me. Again, like a fool I believed she had changed and finally wanted to make amends. Although in retrospect, I’m not sure she wanted anything more than a free vacation. Less than a week after she arrived, refusing to spend any time with me, she craftily orchestrated an argument, so she could leave and go to my youngest daughter. She, along with my mother as her trusty sidekick, did their best to convince her that it was all my fault. This has now driven a wedge between my daughter and I that may take a very long time to heal.
It’ll be interesting to see the kind of karma my sister ends up having to pay back. What goes around always comes around.
And sometimes payback’s a bitch too.
.... Meister Eckhart
Today is Thanksgiving. And I’m searching through misty tears to find what I am grateful for. I have to claw past the heartache to find it. So what am I grateful for?
I’m grateful I’m not on the streets. I’m grateful for the love and loyalty of my eldest daughter. I’m grateful for my friends. I’m grateful that I am getting better ... I hope. And I’m grateful for finally having had the courage to shut the door on those that have damaged me beyond repair.
Since this is a time for looking at the positive things in our life, I will stop here. Tomorrow, I will pick the reins back up.
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