Of clowns and smiles!

Today I had the wonderful opportunity to witness happiness spread in a fantastic art form, clowning.
It was sheer miraculous to watch kids faces go from deep rooted frowns to slow glowing smiles, and mr. Clown, you were a treat to be around!
Thank you, to compassion clowning, a beautiful bunch of souls who enabled me to be a part of this magic!

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I’ve never felt more beautiful!

What if you run out?

What if we run out?

What if we run out of love? What if we run out of passion? What if we run out of money? What if we run out of clients? What if we run out of ideas? What if we run out of thoughts? What if we run out of music? What if we run out of inspiration? What if we run out?

Do you ever find yourself tormented by one or more of the above questions? I know I do, and the very thought petrifies me.

What if I wake up one day and there is no new seed germinating in my mind? What if I keep waking up day after day after day with nothing inspiring me, with nothing making me want to write? What if?

Personally, I believe that’s quite impossible because our thoughts seem to breed quicker than rabbits. Good thoughts, bad thoughts, boring thoughts, there are always thoughts and as long as there are thoughts there will be words. Yet there are days, there are precise moments in days when I pause, just a little, to fret.

I wonder sometimes, can we ever get so burned out of our passion, so wiped out of our desire to create, to DO, that we become insipid silhouettes of what we are supposed to be?

I fear the truth is that it is possible for a time like that to arrive, frighteningly so.

Can we prevent it? No. Can we fight it? Possibly.

I’m not sure I have a cookie cutter solution for you but I think it lies somewhere in creating the right tools for yourself for a chance that a day like that could happen.

Choose the right companions. Befriend people who inspire you. I don’t mean very successful people but people who make you feel like you have the capability to move mountains. People who draw from you and whom you draw from. Keep your safe ten feet away from people who bleed you dry of your love and passion, as of those who make you feel insecure or doubt yourself. Choose people who have worlds of faith in you, those are always the best kinds.

Make a note of your highs. If you are someone like me with an annoyingly concrete memory you needn’t actually have to make a note, you’re gonna remember it. However, if you think you may forget, or you won’t have the strength to recall your triumphs or glory days on bad ones, then write them down, take pictures, tell a best friend who will narrate it back to you when you need to remember. Like I always say, be your own inspiration. It doesn’t get better than that.

Finally, here is something that works for me like a charm whenever I am a little out of inspiration. Do what you do best FOR someone. Whether you write or draw or sing or fix computers or are a doctor, whatever you do, do it for someone close to you, someone special, a friend, a family member or someone who you know really needs it because when we work with love, the desire to deliver seeps in with an unearthly force and takes over.

I hope you know that you are wonderful and no amount of deadbeat days can ever take that away from you!

Our forever as the years go by

I like things being real.

I like that even though we were meeting after twenty months, we spent exactly half our time in disagreement with each other. We didn’t rose tint those ten days away, where we saw an argument, we seized it and devoured it. I liked that.

However, there is a part of me that does not comprehend real, a part that lives in its own time and harps along its own tune. A part that when said forever, meant forever. No, not just a considerably long period of time, not just till forever makes logical sense, but actually forever. Ofcourse I could only promise you forever hoping that it comes to fruition but if you really really believe in your promise, it doesn’t leave you even if you want it to.

I still remember you, I still think of you. With every breath of my being, I still `cherish you like an heirloom.

Some people understand this, some don’t but each time I find a believer incredulity slithers away, making way for the nascent of our forever. Once again, I find it.

Once again, I find you.

You are a part of what makes me alive, you are a part of what makes me who I am, you are a part of the dreams I can dream, you are my hopes, you are.

As each year waddles by they say that you should shrink down to a peanut in my mind, but little do they know that you are only blown up bigger and bigger each year.

I don’t love you, but I will always love you.

Fall Leaf Wreath

soumyaj:

Happy autumn! :)

Originally posted on Ali Does It Herself:

Fall Leaf Wreath 6

I’m not sure how it came about, but making wreaths from scratch has become one of my favourite DIYs in recent years. I love coming up with an idea  and seeing it come to fruition – sometimes better than I’d planned.

Fall Leaf Wreath 1

I spent about 20 minutes gathering these leaves from the local park. They all came from the same tree, so they were the same general shape, but they had a good variance of colour, which I liked. I divided my pile in half, and set one half aside.

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Then I got out my craft paint and paint brushes.

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Then I started painting the other half of the leaves. Nothing too elaborate or detailed – just something to make the leaf still interesting to look at once it’s shriveled and turned brown.

Fall Leaf Wreath 4

I did this for a while.

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Like, an hour or so.

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My favourites are the ones I painted…

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Razor Cut

The feeling is old, the memory new

This is my life with, but without you.

Why do you paint your visage over everything I see

And kindle haggard poetry?

Why do you tease that melody hackneyed

When you strum those tunes long since frayed?

Why do you bleed like a razor cut

That inglorious scarlet flow

Seamless love it seems to spout

But forever you’ll never know.

 

From dawn to dusk now your thoughts squirm bleakly

Each day to diminish you, I try so meekly.

Why do you reek of such pertinence

All through your scathing sheaves of ignorance?

Why do you tingle like love when you’re but a broken wish?

These foolish rhymes, why do you blandish?

Why do you bleed like a razor cut

That inglorious scarlet flow

Seamless love it seems to spout

But forever you’ll never know.

 

Someday I will wipe the blood,

The wound will somehow be sown,

But underneath that pallid thin line,

Is a heart you’ll never know you owned.