Category: her story

When Cinderella gave out the passes for being courageous and kind, I put my hand up and pleaded, “yes, please”. I have been enchanted by creativity from a very young age. From the oranges we stuffed down my brother’s leotard as we created a family performance (please don’t read this bro), to the days I stepped onto the stage as a five-year-old blasting out my own rendition of “My favourite things.”

Enchanted by the process.

Enchanted by the produce.

Enchanted by the mountain view.

I think I quite possibly could be the biggest creative, idea junkie there is. Finding and discovering the brilliance of an idea is my absolute thrill. A walking creative encyclopedia that is overwhelmed by the beauty and simplicity of imagination.

I am totally the product of my beautiful Mum’s passion for everything new. She is a problem solver, an idea keeper, a follow through-er. No matter the problem, she throws creativity and applies her imagination to come up with the solution. I grew up with an idea junkie, who passed on her love of idea collection to her children.

The stories, the costumes, the enchanted evenings sitting waiting as my hair was braided and my lines rehearsed. When she drove me to dance classes and waited outside with the gaggle of women, hoping that their little person was delighting in music as much as they did.

I learnt the flute, the piano, the guitar and that was all before high school had even dawned. My dancing repertoire included Jazz, Acro, Musical Theatre, National Dancing, Ballet, Tap and Contemporary classes.

The enchanting beginnings of creativity start in the warm bed, surrounded by pillows as we read books to fall asleep. The ideas are fostered when we stop mid-sentence to give voice and applause to the violin that is hiding the background of a song.

Gilbert says it this way;

“Do whatever brings you to life, then. Follow your own fascinations, obsessions, and compulsions. Trust them. Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart.”

Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

I want to say a huge thank you to my Mum. She offered me the poisoned apple of creativity and I have never been able to run far from it.

Gilbert supposes that the universe plants ideas and seeds deep within us and asks us to excavate out their beauty and I disagree. I think there are role models in our early stages of development, that teach us to dig beyond the places that “normal” suggests we take and dares us to climb mountains.

There is a small group of people who dance upon the mountain of creativity because they take the time and the energy and effort to seek out the view. The view of inspiration, the mountaintop experience of actually pulling something off, the pure exhilaration of seeing your creative dream come true.

Enchantment is just the beginning my creative friend. That is the dance, that is the tease, that is the possibility…

The one who wins is the one who climbs the mountain of that idea. The one who wins is the one who takes the seed and plants it deep in a soil of hard work and tears. The one who overcomes is the one who allows that idea to grow, by nurturing, loving and loathing its very presence in our body.

That my friend is the brilliance of the mountains that we seek. Take that idea, take that enchanted moment of conception and nurture that baby. Grow it my friend and do something that your future self will thank you for.

Capture it.

Grow it.

And climb that bloody mountain.

The view on the other side is not one that many people can say that they have actually felt the satisfaction of.

Here is my book club question.

“What mountain would you like to climb? a book, a business idea, a singing lesson, an instrument?”

Till we meet again fellow inspiration seeker.

Thanks for checking in on my book club journey

Amanda

As I opened my computer today to write, I wanted to tell you a little secret; my computer password I typed was: theshack. Two simple words. A funny little nickname. A space that has transformed my life. A cocoon. A seventies beach flat. A holiday. Two words that mean so much more than a computer password, but their reinforcement as we log onto our computer each day indicates its importance to us.

To some people a house is just a sleeping station. A house is no more than four walls, some flooring and somewhere to eat dinner at night. To us though, the shack has become our refuge.

Seven and a half years ago, I begrudgingly bought this little apartment by the sea, convinced I was going to be a spinster, combing the beach all day, destined to never have a family or husband to call my own. Sixty nine square metres in fact, with less than ten paces to the beach. I walked and walked, I prayed and sought, listened and learned and this little shack became my resting place.

It is like I was in need of a cocoon, a place of healing and hope from a season of deep loss. Only one week into getting the keys on this place, my friend (a handsome South African fellow) said he would come and help me build a bookcase, the beginnings of a dream realised. What would a budding author first renovate in her mouldy, old, beach apartment, of course a sacred place for her books.

Renovation after renovation, we have carefully together, as friends, as lovers, as early married folk, as novice parents we have painstakingly built a little refuge for our growing family.  Then a few weeks ago, quite unexpectedly we decided to put it on the market, for a price that would sell quickly and to release the cocooned place to another.

If we are to be completely honest the decision was not easy and also not planned, but we absolutely knew that it was right. At the end of last year I heard the words “The in-between is over” as clear as the music I am playing right now whilst I write.

I had to find my release and it has come swiftly with clarity more than I realised. Holding onto this little part of my history, was like trying to move forward facing backward.

We received a cash offer, at our asking price, with a quick settlement. Everything we had been praying for but the next part of the story is one that was unexpected to me. The buyer came by yesterday to meet us, which is a little unusual and he made an offer on all of our furniture. Like everything. Our washing machine, our fridge but most significantly my writing desk and chair. He loved the vibe so much and how all the furniture suited the home and he wanted it to remain.

Gasp.

Her release.

Letting go.

Stepping forward.

I cannot imagine what it is like shifting countries, not just the next suburb, but I felt this overwhelming fear and release in one.

It is like a new season has dawned and everything this season represented is being released.

So today, as I sit here with my coffee, trying to make sense of it all, I am leaping, I am throwing myself, heart and all, into this shift. I am believing that the physical mirrors the internal and that the dawning of a fresh new day is already here.

“Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert.” Isaiah tells us.

Her release comes as swift as a thief in the night.

Do you not perceive it?

It takes courage, it takes grace but sometimes the new comes in the most unexpected form and the release is so scary but it is profound.

Here I am today letting go of my furniture and my little home and stepping into uncharted days. It is so much more than my furniture, my writing desk, chair…It is about me stepping into unknown places and trusting that we will be okay. My cocoon place has been released and I feel like wings of courage are growing as a statement to the new season that is dawning.

I am praying that if this is your prayer as well, that release would awaken at the most perfect time.

And for some that the time is now.

Having the courage to let go of the former things to leap into the new.

Amanda

My little twenty month old is gaining personality at the moment by the second. She is shifting from a clingy, wobbly toddler, to a little person who is even starting to choose and refuse what clothes she wants to wear.

She is starting to talk, protest and express herself quite unanimously. I however am finding myself wishing my little, meek baby back.

Whether it be her style, the skip in her step, her unique little flare, I am realising the power of personality even from such a young age. In fact I am realising that the first three years are more formative than I ever gave them credit for, in the foundation we are building for her flare.

I find myself often saying “Libby please be quiet or Libby calm down” but maybe the person who needs to calm their farm is the protagonist. A lot of my nurturing of her somewhat wild nature, echoes from my own experience of childhood, my own wants to fit it, not be different and not be too loud.

She has a leadership flare already.

She has a fire in her belly that is fierce.

She is loud and strong, independent and free, everything we named her with intention.

The problem however is me allowing her freedom to express its height and depth, but still raising a child with respect and kindness. Creative children are wired to break rules. There is something about the innovative personality, that thrives right at the border of boundary.

How could Steve Jobs, have reinvented every part of our today, if he accepted that the way we have always communicated was enough?

Thomas Edison, could never have invented the movie camera to capture our movement, if he believed that photography was the only way.

William Shakespeare and his way with words, Martin Luther with his penchant for justice, Joan of Arc and her scream. The list swells.

Today I have been thinking about the children of these world changers. Were they subdued, were they confined and were they broken in. If any of these titles fit your experience, then I am so deeply sorry.

My question to you today though is this…

What is your unique flare?

If you thought back to your obsessions and quirks as a child, what were they?

There in may lie your answer my friend.

Reignite your flare.

Reinspire your unique.

Reengage that place of passion.

Her flare is not the problem, the opportunity is my perspective.

Happy Thursday dear gang,

Amanda