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If you are a firm belieer than you have to believe that God has placed you on this earth for a reason. And that you are called to do a work inhim, whatever you enjoy doing that is your calling from God. For me I believe my talent is singing because when I sing people are moved, some cry others smile. When I speak people listen because I have a way of telling a story that makes people smile. What is your gift? Whatever it is use it to his glory:)
So, I possess no beauty then? You have never seen the things these hands have created: all the paintings, the portraits, the rock that became an angel, the wood that became a carriage. You have never seen the tens of thousand of photos I took of mother, child and earth. Tell me, did the wind race beside you as you sped down a dark highway, keeping you company, playing with you? Can YOU hear the whispers in the trees? Why, I can hear the sound the sun makes! No beauty then, is it? Why? Because I don't share your myopic views? So be it... goodbye... long life to you.
Chek,Quote:
Originally Posted by chek101
If you are painting or doing anything artlike, I would love to see it(start another thread on your interests and we can share the things you love to do:)).
I try to dabble in art and crafts,but I love to watch and admire others work.
And I love nature and enjoy it whenever I can...
:)
NO we never have seen them but that doesn't mean we aren't interested. Obviously you have so much beauty and talent within. Please don't go away, we aren't all saying the same things here. I know you are angry and probably wincing at the thought of all this love coming your way. You possess so much and yet, you keep it in... why not let it out. Why not share it with all of us. We are interested in your gifts. That is a great idea, start a thread about things you have done with your special talents and unique talent with your hands. I do not have such a talent but I would love to learn about yours... Please don't close your heart to those that are trying to reach it.. just give us a chance.
I too can hear the whispering of the trees, the are saying something all the time, yet we rarely listen...
Shattered, thank you for your interest. I have a suspicious nature so I tend to question the extended hand... easy when I do it... not so easy the other way around. Someone once told me, I know how to give, but I don't know how to receive. Maybe so. But... do you like poetry? I wrote only 4 poems in my entire life... all in the same week nearly 10 yrs ago. Here is the 2nd poem I wrote. You will know the sound my sun makes, now.
THE SOUND MY SUN MAKES
Was that one? I can't tell; it was too feeble to be the
Sound my sun makes. Where is that strong, sonorous beat
To aim my waters, red my rivers? Shivers, these.
Streams no more, but rocks that squeeze
Amid the freeze that holds them sway, colds my day.
Can my sun's song warm the long, deepening rift
That canyons them? I fear its lilt less steep. Then in
What can I depend to fen my shores if not my sun's
Rhythmic neap. I, alone, can't melt the floes, make
Them go; the sound my sun makes is their tow.
And why does the wind speak in slow whispers?
Each murmur, a hint of last breath. I need the sound
My sun makes to breathe the words the wind won't let.
Did the rhythm end, then?
When? No! This can't be so, because I know
My mortal lives! My trickle yet gives me dispatch.
Though I must wait till they congregate before
I will know, exactly... all... that is so.
Some fjords tell me the waters of the looking place
Run freely from my mortal's scan. How can that be when
My rivers freeze, caught and seized in death's cold cram.
When colder comes the numbing bore,
My mortal's waters pour the more,
Perhaps the mind-kind thinks a better sun then the one undone,
But to trust the imagination is to paint in arbitration
With a palette one color short of reality. Yet...
My mortal doubts me? Works hard without me.. . still.
Where is the sound my sun makes; where are my seas?
How can I please my mortal, or to be precise, life my mortal
Without these. Beat, I beg you. Beat for ease of me
Beat I beg you, beat in spite of me.
SO eloquent and beautiful... thank you for sharing that with me. I am still internalizing all of it.. so I am somewhat speechless. KEEP going, you have such beauty in your words.
Shattered and Chek,
I think you found a kindred spirit in each other, both of you have a way with words and think so deeply...
Thanks Chek for sharing.
I have to admit that I don't like poetry, which is why I don't write it anymore. But I do like to write. Writing is just another form of creativity as far as I am concerned, just one not so messy as all the other endeavors I delve into. I carve, whittle, do portrait work in beads, and on canvass, as well as knit, crochet, tat, and weave on a loom. But my passion is building. I don't like painting and barely tolerate the bead work. Oddly, my paintings were received with tremendous enthusiasm (entered a show once) though people were shocked when I said I don't like painting, including my kids. I prefer building. I like the smell of sanded wood. I liked working in the yard on my old work table (an old rickety picnic table left out in the weather all year round). I kept it right outside the door of my workshop (pre-fab barn in my backyard); I loved that beat up old table. She was riddled with a whole mess of saw cuts from projects I built over the years, but she held up right till I moved and had to leave her behind. We had some grand times, she and I. Those were great, years for me though short lived. They were the best and happiest years in my life. You see, I didn't start building until I was fiftyish or so... I had no idea that I could build such wonderful things. I had been separated from my husband a number of years by then and was slowly starting to discover who I was and what I was capable of doing. He never let me express my creativity in ANY form thinking that a cookbook should be my only form of interest, outside him, of course. When I discovered that I could build anything, and I mean "anything" I felt like I could do magic, I could open the door to the past and have a look-see around, because the things I liked building mostly dealt with the past. I love the past, and I already miss the future, but I don't like the present.
Have you ever sat in an old English coach? I did. I built it myself. A beauty she was!! I lined her interior with a plush, red-pressed velvet material layered in rosettes. Beautiful, just beautiful! What an awesome feeling I got being privy to take a step back, sitting there that coach in my driveway... wow... sigh!
Anyway, that's my passion. Nothing else comes close.
I don't know if I can drop pictures in here, but if I can I will try to put a picture of the coach in here. Let's see what happens... brb! Nope, it won't let me. I didn't think so anyway. You can't post pictures on this board I guess.
I'm glad you liked the poem though, I don't write poems anymore. I was forced into writing them in the first place as a kind of homework assignment or I may have written the four I did write. The one you just read was the second poem I wrote. Here is the first:
TWILIGHT
Come Day, my old friend;
It is twilight, and
I am impatient to feed.
See, our long table is already set
With your day's fading cloth
And my deepening horizon.
Sit there... in my evening!
Lean back, and
Rest your reality
Against my cushion of dreams
While I night your day.
We are empty now,
My bowls and me,
Transparent from the lack of you.
We need the glow of you
And your sun's saffron streams
To give us substance.
Come, Day,
Let the barter begin.
To shelter you
From that high hung fire,
I will give you
My cloak of changing shadows,
But you must give me your clarity
That my night's obscurities
Be less steep.
Bid your hot daytime star
Run its rivered rays
Into my cup,
That I might inhale its warmth,
And I will give your eyes to drink.
I will place before them
For you, a rare anisette,
A bubbly bucket of stars
Chilled in a wine
Of moon beams.
Come, touch my cheek
With your warm tips,
And I will cool your blow
With my night's breath.
Come, Day,
Let the night begin... the day.
I actually like this third one; it wrote itself in less than 15 minutes:
KOOL KATS
Reign in the rusty gutters above yesterday's meal
The one-eyed drummer whites the littered stage
Where drops of gray play hot jazz
To a discarded audience of tin and paper diary
Soup cans tap their browning feet
Used up words swell to the sweet
Sop of be-bop liturgy
And all through the night
Cardboard lips rap out riffs
Of rectangled harmony
... this one speaks about heavy rain hitting the garbage inside my pails outside my window early in the AM one morning. It woke me up it was so loud and made me go to my computer and write it.
Oooops, sorry about the typos; I never bothered to learn how to type, but I can pick and peck pretty fast... too fast, i.e. all the errors.
I did try to post a picture of the cannon, but now I can't even find what they did with my post that shows the artwork I just now posted. This web site is hard to get around in. Do you still see that post, firm?Quote:
Originally Posted by firmbeliever
Yep.. Saw it all
Beautiful work.
But not the cannon.
https://www.askmehelpdesk.com/member...tml#post621589
It has been moved to member discussions,but if you wish it to be in Philosophy you could PM the admin and request if it is possible.
Chek101, Okay I'm going through your intro, and other things you've posted, and you are truly talented. Now maybe your children are,, (insert expletive) but you are truly blessed. I just don't know why YOU don't see it??
Quote:
Originally Posted by talaniman
Tal,
Well, maybe because these gifts(?) have primarily been a source of tremendous discontent in my life. My husband wouldn't let me do anything that didn't involve a mop, a broom and floor wax, actually anything in the kitchen. He was Ralph Kramden to a tee. When I first started working you'd swear I asked for a trip to Paris. That man's eyes used to bug out of his head every time I went out the door to go to work. And God forbid I wore a short skirt! Once he actually ripped one right off my body just as my hand reached the door knob. That was the first and last time I ever wore a short skirt.
He b-----d when I was painting, telling me "Why can't you take up, cooking?" Mind you, I only did 2 paintings in the whole 15 some odd years we lived together. After he finally left, then I had my kids on my case. It just was never easy for me to do anything I wanted to do. Finally I gave up and did NOTHING for years and years.
It wasn't till 30 yrs later that I next put a brush to canvas. Oh, I did some trivial things before then... for work, built some practice machines that helped people keep their jobs, but only when asked to.
By the time I developed wahonies (lol) and did exactly what I wanted to do, I didn't get to enjoy it for long before it was yanked out from under me... that bliss lasted just 3 years.
No one can ever know how much I enjoyed those 3 years, the summers, the getting up at dawn so I could squeeze in as much time working on my projects before heading off to work. And I don't care how hard I worked on those projects, the harder I worked, the more it put a bounce in my step. THAT was the only time I truly felt gifted.
At that time I worked the 5pm shift till 1:30 am. I would work on my projects right up till an hour before I was due in work. I took many a 2 minute shower in those days and zoomed out the door with my hair still wet. Sometimes I got so involved in what I was building, I would forget all about the time completely. Once I rushed into work with sawdust in my hair, eyelashes full of little styrofoam balls, and woodpuddy stuck to my hands, still wearing the clothes I was working in. How I LOVED IT!!
Another time... LOL... I appeared before a promotion panel (for an upgrade to Supervisor) in an even messier condition, just add paint. I forgot it was that day and I would've been late if I took the time to change, so since I really didn't care whether I got the promotion or not, I went to the thing as is. No... I did not get the job, but I did have a lot of fun! The expression on the panelist faces when I walked in was priceless.
Anyway, that was my bag: BUILDING. So what happened, what stopped it? And here's where the irony comes in... my heart stopped me: heart attack. I am now a life-long "heart" patient and I am not allowed to climb ladders or haul lumber. Best part of this is my heart has the nerve to be broken. Makes good sense to me!
Btw, 2 psychics told me I am "special." I made a bracelet with the words
"special1" carved into it to remind me about that. 'Bout all it does is irritate me because it reminds me that the shot was took... and the mark was missed. I stopped wearing it.
Chek,
WOW,
I have deep respect for you, for getting where you are after all that happened.
Now I understand why your children disrespect you, they learnt from their father,first hand by seeing how he resented you, they unknowingly took on this same stance.
I am sorry...
But then you would not be who you are without all that past... that is what it is, the past and that fashioned who you are today.
Please do keep sharing,maybe it will help... in some little way.
I understand what you are saying and I understand talking it out helps. That's what therapist do... they let you talk till you drop. Hey... it works!Quote:
Originally Posted by firmbeliever
But you know Firm, the past is not in the past when the actions of the past preside over the present.
I just have a hard time with this having to sit on my hands which is the way I feel whenever my kids are around. They treat me like I'm this non-entity of no value. I feel like I have to do whatever they want me to do just to be acknowledged by them. Between you and me, I would much rather smack out the whole lot of 'em! That's why the need to sit on my hands. LOL!
For the love of Pete; just give me a strong heart, some wood, a good hammer and a nice string of sunny days and I will have already found my heaven.
Just an idea Chek...
You love using wood, why not try your hand at making miniature in wood,
I am guessing that the bigger ones take more energy out of you and is back breaking work especially with your condition.
Firm,Quote:
Originally Posted by firmbeliever
I did try to do some small things but like the paintings I rarely finish them. It's just not challenging enough for me. Building the large stuff challenged me plenty! I got no help from anyone whatsoever. To work the heavy stuff I always had to first build another set of hands, meaning a hoist or pulley system. The cannon wheels weighed 95 pounds each! The T-Rex stretched all the way from my back fence to my front gate. She was in full gallop mode, head down and full out running. I only got as far as her middle backbone structure before it was destroyed. I was building her in three parts: middle backbone structure from head to tail, (head alone was 5 ft long), the left side rib section from head to tail, and the right side rib section from head to tail. I built the middle section out of the lightest wood I could use - furring strip and wiggle wood -- because I had already considered having to deal with getting this thing off the ground and making it stand erect. And since I only had me to do that with, I had to keep the structure light … just to make sure the whole business STAYED TOGETHER when lifting it, upright. I had to tie a series of lines to several strategic points along the whole length of the rickety structure, then I gathered up all the lines and PULLED! It took several slow minutes to get the thing off the ground and into a standing position as the structure was extremely unstable and threatening to break apart the farther from the ground, it got. I did get her to stand, though And intact! Then I built the scaffolding all around her.
That was as far as I got when the heart thing kicked in. My kids got rid of the structure while I was in the hospital, and let me tell you I was really, really angry about that. There went 5 week’s work down the tubes. They were against my building it, OR ANYTHING FOR THAT MATTER, and now they had an excuse to get rid of it. Every year, they’d ask, “You’re NOT building anything this year, are you, Mom?” It was more of a demand than a question. No support what-so-ever from any of them.
Anyway … that is what I mean by being challenged. I liked the figuring out part most: HOW to get done what I knew had to be done. The designing of the project was easy; the “doing” was the challenging part and the fun part I enjoyed most. You could take and throw the piece away after it was finished for all I cared, the fun was over. It’s about the building. It’s about the challenge of the building.
My son THE B-----D is a builder, he manages huge construction projects. He is very wealthy, and he is the biggest b-----d there is when it comes to me! His friends love him though! I’m not with him for more than 4 seconds before the downgrading starts. How odd that he is the one that is most like me. If I could, I would like to reach into his chest and rip my gifts right out of there. Where would he be, then. Mostly, I avoid him. Tho I do miss the baby. His first son was born this August.
Thank God for my bike; that bad girl uses up some of my time, too; she is motorized and a barrel of fun (picture below) to ride. Me, and Tabby go riding everywhere. I bring my camera with me hoping to come across an interesting shot. We are quite well known in town. The days lately have been just too beautiful for words and since they are dwindling down, I try to get out and ride as much as possible, in fact am going riding, now.
Chek... you are wonderful... and special. I just love your outlook. Have fun with the bike, looks like a good ride anytime!
YOu are a survivor and a true strong spirit. NOTHING has taken you down completely. NOT the heart attack, or the abusive husband, or your kids. I do think you need to still teach them to treat you differently, maybe by responding different? I don't know. I also don't know how you can undue what they learned from their father. Try not be angry, it doesn't help your heart at all. Realize that the years they had with your ex is emblazoned on their souls and some of it has been learned. They may never change but you have! You are free from that abuse. THat is a blessing in and of itself. I think the hardships you encounter have taken their toll on you, your spirit and your body. Do not think that your body wasn't trying to give you a message, it was. Life is short, we never know when our last day is.. at least you still have those gifts, even if you have to utilize them differently. I think you are such a unique person with so much to offer, you remind me of an artist before your time. Years from now maybe your work will be famous like Da Vinci! You never know.
I am sorry I didn't respond to your other post, there was a lot of drama going on and I had to retreat for a bit. But I enjoyed your artwork immensely and I think you are doing very well on here, getting your feelings out. Firm is right, it will help you heal if you continue to share and vent everything. Then it cannot sit and build inside of you, and hurt you to your core.
So many people that will care and help you here. YOu have a lot to offer to others as well.
I am glad that you have stayed with us... YOu will find it to be very healing to be around these people. They have helped me heal a great deal, even though my troubles were nothing in comparison to yours, my heart has suffered pain and loss, and I am beginning to feel more positive and strong within myself. I hope that it happens the same way for you on here.
Thanks for opening up your world to us, it is fascinating...
Maybe one day your kids will recognize what kind of mother they really have... I will pray for that.
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