Category: Creativity

There is a trap that holds so many of us captive. It is a very silent, sneaky one.

It can trip us up at an unsuspecting moment.

A quick flick through the newspaper, a little read of a magazine, a scroll through a beautiful instagram feed, maybe even a read of this blog.

Comparison.

It kidnaps us all at some point in our lives and holds us for ransom until we find the bounty of perspective once again.

Look at her life, she has it all together.

What if she actually knew what I thought of her?

If only I had what she has then everything would be so different.

“How much time he gains who does not look to see what his neighbour says or does or thinks, but only at what he does himself, to make it just and holy.”
Marcus Aurelius

Mothers Day is not a fabulous celebration for most women. There is a fair amount of comparison lurking beneath the surface, waiting to capture the heart that dives into its depths.

“Look at what he bought for her, all I got was this crappy macramé pot plant holder.”

“God, I miss her so much, if only I could have a celebration like what they are having.”

“My Mum never did that for me, why should I even bother.”

“If only I was a Mum, then everything would be different.”

Comparison is a thief that steals the joy of our everyday moments. It is like a ladder competing with our neighbour that ends up nowhere. The problem is that we have missed the amazing view that is surrounding us. We loose perspective of the beauty that is very present.

If days like Mother’s Day are difficult for you, I understand and I see you.

Take time today, to remove yourself from the place where comparison robs you of your joy.

Remind yourself of the beauty in your season for today.

Remind yourself of the perfection in the ordinary moments.

Remind yourself that you are loved, you are graced and you are fearfully made.

Try not to watch the feed of everyone else’s highlight reels and let comparison steal you away this year.

Acknowledge your today and give thanks for hope in tomorrow.

A group of friends and I have a little secret. We have been working on it late at night, sending group texts scheming and planning. I can honestly say this little secret has seriously changed my creative mojo lately. It has me inspired.

It is a simple little something.

It is a creative muse we have started.

Honestly though it has me spellbound.

Everywhere I walk lately I am thinking about it.

I talk about it all the time with my little creative gang.

One could say I’m obsessed.

I have been taking my camera with me everywhere I go and whenever I see anything remotely interesting you can see me clicking away.

I have left my phone home more.

I have been dreaming up little photo shoots in my mind.

I am inspired.

This little secret, is the simplest little idea.

Four of us take photos in our local area of secrets, cafes, sunsets, inspiration moments, people, stories and we post them.

It is that simple but what it has done is completely changed my perspective of everything locally in my area.

I find myself thinking about all the brilliance in my little seaside town rather than the bad.

I keep finding new and interesting things that we could profile.

I feel like we are positively communicating worth to our local people in the midst of the storm and tide of so much negativity.

The simplest little secret that is making such a massive difference.

Shhh, don’t tell anyone.

What is something simple you can do in your everyday to live inspired?

 

 

 

Lately I have been a part of quite a few dissatisfied conversations. Chats that have been surrounded with innuendo that has made me question how we communicate what we want from love.

Wives who are wanting to be noticed by their husbands.

Single women who are dating but quite turned off by the prospect of who is near.

Friends who are sharing their hearts with vulnerability and a heaviness that feels quite sticky, addictive and confusing.

They have made me seek and listen more lately with questions like…

How do we make someone love us more?

How do we communicate dissatisfaction without wounding?

How do we be honest without tearing hearts apart?

These thoughts have been bouncing around and last week I felt like I had a little private revelation about love.

This was my little moment of realisation. (It is a little hard  to express and to get clear so bare with me.)

If we are always disappointed in love, then maybe we have our expectations set so high that they will never be met no matter the extender of love.

I have been married now for four years, I have been dating the same man for six years and throughout this time, I have been thinking about how I communicate love and have been looking for it to be reciprocated.

Most of us have heard of the ‘love languages theory’. I am a gifts girl, I am a words girl. These are the ways I receive and communicate love. Everyone tells us to take time to learn the way that your partner, friend, mum, wife, husband communicates love and alter your method accordingly. The more I have explored this teaching personally, the more I have found myself feeling a little dissatisfied.

What if we changed our love language to suit the person who was extending it?

What if we spent more time being grateful and acknowledging the love that is being extended to us rather than being dissatisfied with what we don’t have?

I am not saying we shouldn’t express our needs and hope to be heard but what if I acknowledged the brilliance in my present rather than spending hours hoping for something that is not natural to the one giving it.

For example; My husband is not great at presents, he’s not great at flowers, he’s not great at remembering big days, it’s just not his thing. He tries so hard to remember to encourage me and extend words of encouragement, but he would much prefer to show me his love through acts of service.

His thing is working hard and he gives it his all. His thing is cleaning (don’t hate me) his thing is ironing. His thing is working overtime, so I can stay home with our kids and enjoy this season that is moving so fast. His thing is stability. His thing is looking after our kids with intentionality. He is amazing at quality time. He is amazing at acts of service.

Lately I have been stopping myself mid act of service and saying internally “This is his expression of love. He is loving me right now. This is him communicating how much he cares.” Taking time to acknowledge him and his expression.

In that relationship that you are feeling dissatisfied in, what is their thing?

The little moments of me acknowledging the love that is being extended, has been the most beautiful revelation of love. The more I look for his expressions of love, the more I see it, the more I feel loved. I honestly wasn’t feeling unloved or unappreciated but the more conversations I had that were full of dissatisfaction the more I questioned?

Conversations with others,

Social Media,

Dramatic expressions of love on the media,

These all can warp our perception of what true love really is.

The simplicity of changing my perspective and being present in the beautiful moments of love being extended (even though they don’t look like the ones that come natural to me) has been delightful.

What is being extended?

Maybe this could be your key to making him love you more?

Maybe you are just speaking a different language and you need to go to language school and learn what method they are communicating through?

Maybe you just need to notice a little more, rather than holding such high expectations?

Maybe you need to have a simple chat explaining why you feel dissatisfied?

Maybe you are doing just fine.

Maybe you are not.

The exploration of how we receive and give love though is a beautiful use of ones time. Learning more about ourselves and how we tick, makes us much more able to understand emotions that sometimes overwhelm.

Maybe you are loved more than you think and you have just been misreading the expression.

 

 

 

Flowers are my guilty pleasure. I have a husband who finds them completely pointless because they die so quickly. I however feel flowers rather than see them. The beauty of these pointless creations change my whole demeanour. When they are in my house, I see them when I wake in the morning. I watch them as they change and grow. I feel their beauty in my tiny little shack.

Their pointless creativity changes my mood and perception.

My husband often says “Wouldn’t you prefer me to spend the money on jewellery?”

I reply in my mind “Yes, but… Can’t I have beauty that is momentary. Even if it doesn’t last. I want to be surrounded by beautiful things that have no purpose but to just remind me of colour, life, detail, intricacies and inexplainable things.”

Creativity with no purpose.

You know the drawings that confuse you but you still feel something but can’t describe it.

Those moments when you write a poem that it is never going to be shared anywhere but it is breathtaking.

Pages and pages of writing in my journals that no one will read except me and my God.

Those whispered prayers asking for nothing but speaking volumes in the space between our fear and faith.

Creative inspiration for no reason.

Opportunities to create beauty without consumerism.

Riding our bike through our small town collecting willow ears and letting them fly.

Kites that fly over our beach with no-one noticing except the birds.

Secret moments in your local area that are forgotten because of our busyness.

In a world that has become so focussed on producing creativity for purpose, what if we reunited our souls with opportunities to create for no other reason than because you were inspired.

As a creative soul, don’t become so obsessed with the crowd and acclaim, obsessed with who is buying or who is liking, why don’t you try creating again for no other reason than because it is beautiful.

Bring beauty back to your creative space.

It could be the very thing that changes your life.

Enjoying moments that are not shared with anyone.

A bunch of flowers that dies in just a few days, but as they lived in your everydayness they bought beauty and expectation to your ordinary.

 

 

 

As the sun set yesterday the foreboding feeling overwhelmed me that an act of injustice was to be done before the sun rose to a new day. As midnight approached a prayer from the Letter to the Philippians, rolled through my mind, “praying for a peace that surpassed understanding, a peace that guarded both their hearts and minds” as a row of men stood before them with weapons with the intent to end their life as a punishment.

Today I have walked a little slower and been very reticent to open the tirade of opinions on social media. I have been reflecting on the influence of a life sown. I have been reminded all day about the two criminals that hung beside Jesus as he was also executed on a cross. Two criminals, being held accountable for their crimes. Two different responses in the midst of their final hours.

One of them acknowledging his need of a King, the other dismissing, mocking just like the crowd. One of them sees clearly the power of redemption and the restorative power of the cross and the other doesn’t. A little like the crowd that has gathered at the feeding frenzied table over the last few days. The opinions, the comments, the mockery, the broken hearted, the confused, the battle weary disappointed as they waited for their miracle.

Jesus simply looks at the man, in the midst of his own darkest night of the soul and invites him to live with him in paradise. The penitent thief is recorded in history as saying ‘Remember me, when you come into your kingdom Lord.’

His love surrounds us in the darkest moments of our lives. Last night a group of criminals stood awaiting their fate singing the words “Amazing Grace, that saved a wretch like me.”

My life is an example of the redemptive power of a Saviour who radically changed my life. One shot of heroin and my story today could have been a very different story. I stood at the Bali Airport the day they were arrested. I stayed in the hotel next door all week that they planned their moment from. I was literally fifty metres away from being that person who was strapped.

I hate drugs and I believe in being accountable for the laws that we break.

I also believe deeply in restoration.

My family believes in the redemptive power of rehabilitation. I kiss goodbye to my husband each morning as he goes to work with juveniles in prison.

Tonight, I am comforted by the knowledge that they are resting now in paradise. They stood strong, brave and vulnerable as they faced their accusers.

Last night reminded me deeply of the crucifixion of Christ. He tried desperately to find another way shouting “If there is anyway you can take this away from my God, but not my will be done but yours.”

I am so sure, his mercy flooded their hearts and lives as the bullets took their lives. A redemptive power that is ever-lasting. A walk into a kingdom that is far beyond anything we could ever hope or dream of.

The prince of peace welcomed them home.