Hiding

 

There is a cat hiding out on the moon, I know. I've seen him smiling down on me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Now this picture did not come out as nice as I wanted it to be... but I still love my black cat hiding out on the moon.

 

My whole life whenever I see a crescent moon, I always point and say, "The Cheshire Cat smile!" Crescent moons are my absolute favorite because of that very reason.

 

In my mind I have a story of how a witch was flying by the moon on her broomstick when her pet cat fell off and landed safely on the moon. At first he was annoyed by the inconvenience but lately, he smiles. Up on the moon there is no sadness, no worries, no one to think that you're bad luck, and no pesky dogs always barking at you.

 

Only 3 more days until Halloween!!

 

a.r.w.

The Gift

When stars are born

 

They possess a gift or two…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There is an old Serbian proverb that says, Be humble for you are made of earth. Be noble for you are made of stars. We are the very best of both worlds. Star dust makes up our very beings--star dust from millions and billions of years ago, connecting us to the very universe that surrounds. If that is not a magnificent thought, then I don't know what is.

 

Today's doodle was created from inspiration by a great number of different things throughout the day.

 

The first was listening to the music from the Disney firework show "Wishes" which starts with the very famous and oh so beloved saying, "When stars are born, they possess a gift or two... One of them is this: They have the power to make a wish come true." Immediately I thought to the precious brother I BEGGED my parents for. I wanted nothing more than to be a big sister... and my wish was granted with Jed. He has given me the greatest relationship I have ever seen between a brother and a sister, a lifetime of memories, years of laughter, and an incredible friend. I miss my brother--my star--every single day (today is one of those rough days if you can't tell...) but I am so grateful for him for making my wish come true and making my life so much brighter.

 

Another inspiration from today was a post I saw online that was between two stars talking to one another saying, "Being a human was the hardest thing I ever had to do." "Same here." My breath was taken away by that thought.  This is the hard part of life--the tears, the pain, the sickness--but that will make the joyful reunion and happy eternity over There all the sweeter. Jed has become that shining star once more, illuminating my world that has turned a bit too dark for my liking lately.

 

I think back to that beautiful quote from Star Wars: Luminous beings are we... not this crude matter. It seems to be a similar idea--across cultures--that once we make it through this part of life and travel from Here to There, life gets brighter... as do we...

 

From stars we came from and to stars we will return.

 

a.r.w.

Flower Lady

 

There's a little old lady

I see her around

She's one of the ghosts that follows me

Selling flowers throughout town

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There is this old lady I see sometimes on my way home from work. I usually see her at night when it is raining and she is always holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand, hoping to sell them. Twice now I've passed her going into the grocery story, thinking, I'll get some change and then buy her flowers. But each time I come out of the store she vanishes from sight. She's a mystery! A ghostly flower lady!

 

Every so often a small child looks at you or maybe just slightly to the left or right of you, fascinated. But when you turn to see what it is they're staring at, there's nothing there. Maybe they're more in tune with the spirit world and see what we cannot. Maybe we all have different ghosts walking with us through this journey of life. Sometimes I like to think I have a whole collection of ghosts following me around.

 

Only 10--TEN!!--days until Halloween!!

 

a.r.w.

 



 

 

and Round

a princess’s life

to just be wild and free

take yourself and go

 

*~*~*~*~*

an empress’s life

trapped within an illusion

she’s forever theirs

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

One of my idols and favorite historical figures is the very mysterious and very peculiar Sisi, Empress Elisabeth of Austria. At just fifteen, she became the empress of probably the most powerful monarchy in the world. Her life started as a Cinderella story--a nobody princess, living a wild and carefree life in Bavaria. After meeting the young and handsome Franz Josef, she married for love and quickly realized that the dream of love and luxury was actually a nightmare. No longer free to do what she wanted--explore, play, ride horses, and simply be her carefree self--she became trapped in the pleasantries of court life where she was simply the emperor's beautiful wife... Until she took matters into her own hands.

 

Always an enigma, she was considered the most beautiful woman in the world at the time and she used that to her advantage. She used sex as a weapon against her husband and as a bargaining tool when it came to protecting the common folk in the countries under her control. Her beauty regime lasted hours--she bathed in milk, washed her hair in cognac, ate only oranges and eggs, exercised to exhaustion, and would probably have been considered anorexic by today's standards. And yet the people adored her and even today people are still fascinated with the tragic beauty.

 

Here are two haikus about Sisi--one from when she was a child and another when she was a queen... To go along with the haikus, I thought of drawing her with one of her beloved horses but then decided to put a twist on it--her horses took her nowhere and she was never able to fully escape the reaches of the Habsburg regime--her horses were nothing more than little carousel horses, always bringing her back to where she belonged.

 

a.r.w.

Apple Pie

Dorothy cursed as the knife sliced through her finger, crimson red blood dripping down onto the perfectly flattened dough she was about to drape over the cinnamon and chopped apples.

"Apple pie," she hissed between clenched teeth, pushing the brown ringlet from her face, leaving a smear of white flour and red blood along her forehead.

It was her daughter, Bianca's, favorite--stepdaughter, her furious thoughts reminded her--as she tossed the finished pie, complete with her own blood, sweat, and tears, into the oven.

It would be hours until her new husband came home and only minutes until Bianca arrived... she was running out of time.

The house was spotless as always and Dorothy primped her hair, washed the blood from her face, fluffed her tulle petticoat, and straightened the pearls around her neck as she stood before the mirror--the only thing in that damned house to ever give her any attention.

She had married into this family--Richard had worked on the Manhattan Project nearly ten years ago and that had brought him both money and a fine paying job at the local university where he spent all of his time... the remaining time he spent at home with Bianca... Never Dorothy.

The jealousy and rage boiled up inside the housewife as she let out a scream and slammed her fist against the mirror, her twisted face even more distorted in the shards at her feet.

"Dorothy? I'm home!" the twelve year-old's voice called out through the house, making the woman ignore the blood dripping from her knuckles and bottle up her emotions once more--her rage hidden by a sweet smile.

"I'm in the kitchen!" she called out, her voice high pitched.

"Something smells delicious." The beautiful child--the object of Richard's love and affection with her pale white skin, jet black hair, and bright green eyes--entered the kitchen with a smile on her innocent face.

"Your favorite," Dorothy continued as she wiped the blood on a towel, knowing the girl was far too stupid to notice the broken mirror or the blood. With a smile she opened the oven. "Apple pie."

"With cinnamon?"

She kept smiling. "Of course."

Without another word, the girl sat down and began to devour the large slice of pie her stepmother placed on the plate before her.

"Enjoy," Dorothy whispered as she patted her stepdaughter on her head, her fingers tangling in the girl's silky smooth hair.

A moment passed--almost too long for Dorothy's liking--before Bianca hesitated and began to cough.

"Are you alright, dear?"

The fit of coughs continued as Bianca slammed her hand on the table and began gasping for air.

"Bianca?"

The girl tried to stand--to reach out to her stepmother for help--but stumbled as her legs gave out from under her, her body beginning to twitch and shake.

The woman in her pristine and perfect dress, knelt down beside the girl who began to foam at the mouth, her eyes bugging out of her head. "I thought you liked my apple pie," she said, sounding almost heartbroken. "It has cinnamon... just how you like." She paused for a moment, taking the girl's head and placing it into her lap. Stroking her hair, she added with a wicked grin, "Oh! And arsenic."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Today's writing prompt was "apple pie" and I immediately thought of Snow White and her poisoned apple. I decided to give it a 50s twist but still dark and spooky because--hey!--it's almost Halloween!

 

I think the 50s were an interesting time in American history. It was after a world war and it was seen on the outside as a epitome of utopian, ideal Americana. White picket fences, suburbia, and the perfect families where dad goes off to work, the kids go to school, and the mom stays at home keeping herself and the house perfect.

 

But in reality, how ideal, happy, and peaceful was that? I could see people growing tired of perfection and the monotony of every day. And I could see the perfect housewives scheme in their boredom.

 

So here is a twisted take on Snow White and the Evil Queen and the poisoned apple. A 1950s housewife, jealous of her stepdaughter, snaps and gives the girl a poisoned apple pie... only this time, there's no true love to come, kiss her, and wake her up. No happy ending.

 

I think the scariest thing in this world is what a human being is capable of. It's not Freddy or Jason or Michael Myers (though they are terrifyingly awesome). It's not vampires or werewolves or aliens. It's a human being who wears the mask of normalcy but deep down inside they are a monster... A demon hidden behind a perfectly painted face.

 

Only 19 days until Halloween!!

 

a.r.w.

Yellow Bird

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There is this joke in my family that goes back eight years now to my Uncle Tony's 50th and my cousin Ashley's 16th birthday cruise in the Caribbean--a joke about a yellow bird. When someone gets easily distracted by something, you shout, "Hey look! A yellow bird!" This joke started with one of the comedians on the ship and (like most things in my family), it just took on a life of it's own over the years.

 

There are two kinds of birds in Novosibirsk that I have seen in the last month and a half--crows and pigeons (such is city life)... That is, until today. Today I've been seeing little yellow finches everywhere!

 

I woke up this morning to see one sitting on my window ledge. Later, one almost flew in through my open window. Walking to the post office I saw five more! And as I sat down to start writing this post, another one landed on my window ledge and just stared in at me. I actually like to think that it's just one finch and that he's followed me around like a little familiar.

 

And of course, I always think back to that message Jed gave to us through my mom's friend, Nadine: Look for me in feathers. Of course the first thing that popped into my mind was that Jed was following me, helping me pick up mom's package. Whether it's a "sign" from Jed or not--who knows? But I do know that I love seeing and being distracted by these colorful little birdies.

 

Hey look! A yellow bird!

 

a.r.w.

Cupcake

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Yes, this is a cupcake. Yes, it's a heart.

 

I wish this idea had been my own but I can proudly say that I did not come up with this idea--one of my students did!

 

For two weeks, I traveled over the river and beyond the city center to a small school called Chudo Chado. At first, I had no desire to travel so far on my Saturdays but the minute I met the students who were desperate to learn from a native speaker, I fell in love with them and their zeal. My second week there, we read a ghost story and for an activity, I asked them to create their own scary story. The result was impressive.

 

Almost all of them clapped their hands in glee before setting to work. I got stories about a megalodon (these are ten years old studying English as their second language), animatronics that kill kids at a pizza place, and this one--all about cupcakes.

 

Kate, the quiet girl who sits in the corner was the most excited about this writing assignment and she did not disappoint. Her story was of a young girl who had a birthday party where none of her friends came to celebrate. In response, the girl went to their houses, cut out their hearts, and put them in the cupcakes.

 

Brutal, sadistic, and so creative! After being in China for two years where the kids barely understood the idea of creativity and now being surrounded by kids who are not motivated at all and bored with everything they do, it was a breath of fresh air to see these kids create and think up these stories all by themselves... and have fun doing it! I was slightly disturbed but even more impressed by Kate and her story... and she inspired me to paint this macabre image.  

 

I've learned that I don't like drawing anything real or lifelike... Human hearts are hard! I tried a few times and then gave up on being realistic and I decided to create my interpretation of what a human heart looks like.

 

Enjoy the blood splatter...

 

Only 22 days until Halloween!

 

a.r.w.

Nothing

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

What do you fear most in life?

 

Some might say heights or flying, spiders or the darkness. Me? I fear Nothing.

 

Do you remember the movie The Neverending Story? The Nothing was the terrifying monster gobbling up Fantasia, the world of fantasy and dreams. I think that was a mighty powerful message for a kids movie because to this day I am still affected by it and I still fear Nothing.

 

To me, the Nothing is just that--a void of happiness, dreams, plans, actions, even life itself. It's the desire to just survive through life instead of thrive. Nothing is very much real to me and I have to try and fight it every day. I fight it by reading, by laughing, by dreaming, and creating something new here every day.

 

These three figures are the Nothing that haunt my mind. They feed on the very thought of them (so stop thinking about Nothing!) and once they take control of you, it's hard to fight them off... but it's possible... it's always possible to fill Nothing with a very great Something.

 

That's what I'm trying to do with this blog... Fill the Nothing and fight it too.

 

Plus I just wanted to paint something super spooky today! I hope you dream of Nothing tonight...

 

25 days until Halloween!

 

a.r.w.

Pumpkins

we are beautiful

all different shapes and sizes

pumpkins big and small

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Pumpkins are a lot like people. Some are short and fat. Others are tall and thin. And I love each and every one of them.

 

I finally bought some watercolor paper for the first time yesterday and I've started playing with it. I'm not really familiar with how it absorbs water and paint yet so forgive the slightly messy doodles.

 

I've been wanting to paint some pumpkins for awhile now and I decided to play with orange, yellow, and red. I kind of like the result! Just like my trees from yesterday, they all turned out different. I love it when I can't recreate a doodle--it makes them so special and unique.

 

I've been eying up a pumpkin on my way to work everyday. There is a gang of old ladies that sell produce and they brought out a giant pumpkin.... and I WANT IT.

 

That is one of the things I don't like about living abroad--missing out on all of the autumnal shenanigans. Apple picking, haunted houses, hay rides, corn mazes, apple cider, carving Jack-o-lanterns, pumpkin spice everything, the Swartz Halloween party, and going to the pumpkin patch. This time of year is my absolute favorite but it's also painful when I'm so far from all the fun!

 

I'm hoping to get a pumpkin soon and joining in on the Halloween festivities even from Siberia... 27 days until Halloween!

 

a.r.w.

Beautiful

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I like to think of the Earth as a phoenix at this time of year. Everything bursts into a colorful, beautiful blaze just before it dies... much like the phoenix bursts into flames before being reborn from the ashes.

 

Autumn shows me that death is not quite as scary as we sometimes think it is. It shows me that there can be such a thing as a beautiful death. Death is not a glamorous thing. It is messy, scary, and traumatizing to witness. At the very surface of it all, beautiful seems like the very last thing it would be.

 

I think what makes death beautiful is when someone's life is beautiful. My brother's death was not a beautiful, peaceful, "slip away" sort of death. As my mom says, "He went out swinging." I would not consider Jed's death to be beautiful... but goodness gracious his life was a  masterpiece. He lived life with such a fire and his desire to live life to the fullest, all the way to the very end, is both admirable and beautiful.

 

What Jed's death showed me was that death has the potential to be beautiful but what's even more beautiful is the life you lived and how you live on even after death in the hearts and minds of those that you managed to touch while on this planet. 

 

I'm always dazzled by this time of year--a beautiful transition from life to death. And while I, too, am in a transitional phase in my life, this season is taking on a whole new meaning for me. It's a beautiful time of year and it shows me that beauty can be found in the most unlikely of places--such as loss, tragedy, and even death.

I was playing with my watercolors and decided to try something from kindergarten. These are trees made from blowing air through a straw. I love how they turned out! Each one is unique! Give it a try--it's super easy and fun.

Only 28 days until Halloween!

a.r.w.

Memory

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Our sense of smell is a very fickle, funny thing. They say it is the sense related the closest to memory and I've always believed that. My perfume "Lovely" by Sarah Jessica Parker always takes me back to the fall of 2007 where I was in a production of Night of the Living Dead. Rose makes me think of my Memoo (my mom's mom). And just over the summer, I found one of my brother's stuffed Stitch toys that was in a tote under his bed--it smelled just like his room did before he got sick; immediately, I was taken back to a simpler time and a happy time (cue the infamous Woomer Water Works).

 

Today, I was suddenly reminded just how powerful the sense of smell is once again.

 

As I was washing my teacup at work, I got a whiff of the dish soap--lemon scented.

 

I was instantly transported back to my gramma's (dad's mom) house. Even though she loved lavender and whenever I think of my gramma, I think of the flower, the smell of lemon dish soap threw me back fifteen years and I loved it.

 

I stood at the sink just smiling like a weirdo as I thought back to the weekends I'd spend with my Gramma Aw at her house. She has always been an inspiration to me in the creative world with my art and writing so it was nice to have a little visit even if it was just in my memories as I was surrounded by my coworkers and a bunch of little kids chattering away in Russian.

 

Over the years, I've learned that a visit is so much more than seeing someone's face or hearing their voice.  A visit can be a dream, a smell, a sudden memory that brings a tear to your eye or a smile to your face. And how much more magical is that?

 

a.r.w.

 

PS: I read online that one of my favorite authors growing up, Lemony Snicket (the creator of A Series of Unfortunate Events), just donated $1 Million to Planned Parenthood... Seems fitting I drew a lemon today! 

Strength

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I've been playing the with watercolors I bought myself a bit and this was my favorite doodle I came up with today.

 

I absolutely adore owls. There is just something about them. I think that they are adorable but at the same time there is something mysterious and spooky about hearing them in the middle of the forest in the darkness of the night.

 

This is a quote that was originally in French: Quand le hibou chante, La nuit est silence. And to me, I think that is so true. There is something powerful in the owl. It is one of the guardians of the forest. They silently watch the trees and the stars, usually silent. But when they call out in a screech, the entire forest freezes in silence, waiting to see what the owl will do.

 

So unsuspecting yet so strong.

 

Because true strength doesn't need to be announced with thrashing arms and trumpets, I find myself wishing I had that silent strength hidden inside the owl.

 

a.r.w.

Come In

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I grew up reading the poems of Shel Silverstein. I have vivid memories of sitting in my school's library in the third grade, reading his books of poetry. This poem called, "Invitation" is in the book Where the Sidewalk Ends and it is my favorite of all of Shel Silverstein's poems (yes, even "The Unicorn").

 

I remember the first time I read this poem, I wanted it hanging in my house someday. It has a whimsical side to it but also a very candid side. Dreamers are welcome, magic bean buyers are welcome... but pray-ers and liars are also welcome. Even as a child, I loved that idea. Everyone is welcome to come in, share, and spend time together... Just as long as they bring a story to share.

 

The more I think about it, the more I think that Shel Silverstein is my favorite poet. I do love Walt Whitman and Sylvia Plath, and W.B. Yeats but there is something special about Shel Silverstein. It could be that he was such a big part of my childhood--so many teachers and librarians shared his poems and drawings with me. It could also be that slightly tilted, whimsical, silly style he has; poetry doesn't have to be refined or wordy to touch you in a special way. I hope that someday my scribbles and doodles can touch other people's hearts and minds just as much as Shel's work touched mine.

 

I hope to practice my watercolors more in the future. I love drawing girl's faces but I want to try little doodles on the more minimalist side like this pineapple. If you have any requests, let me know! I think a pumpkin, an acorn, and a cat are up next on my list of little watercolor doodles. In my head, I'm calling it Scrap Paper Art because I am incapable of finding blank pieces of paper so I'm practicing on the small pieces of paper I can find (mostly with my student's classwork on the back).

 

This little doodle is also a welcome to you. Welcome to this blog. If you are a reader, come in. If you are an artist, come in. If you are a friend, family, or stranger, come in. All are welcome to join the Accord of Dreamers.

 

a.r.w.

 



Imagine II

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ta-da!!

 

Yes, you were right... My sneak peek from yesterday was the top of a table.

 

For our two year (dating) anniversary, Adam bought me a new writing desk and it is the biggest one I have ever had in my life (I think he was just sick and tired of me taking over the kitchen table)!!

 

It was a plain, untreated wooden table and you know I just can't live with plain, blank, and empty... So I turned it into a colorful obnoxious cacophony of colors (with almost as many colored circles as Inside Out)!

 

I loved having such a big canvas to work with... but I have never painted detail into wood... it's tough! The grains definitely made it hard to make straight lines, so if anyone has any advice, I'd love to hear it! I'm hoping to be able to paint and work with bigger projects more in the future.

 

This was a two day project and my thumb is still shaking from holding the paint brushes! But I do love how it came out. It's loud. It's colorful. It's full of imagination. Just like me.

 

a.r.w.



Imagine

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Here is a little sneak peek at my biggest project yet for An Accord of Dreamers! It's not quite done yet... Can you imagine what this might be?

 

a.r.w.

Shine

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

*GASP!*

 

What do you mean Amanda didn't draw the face of a girl? What is this world coming to? What's that outside your window? Did a pig just fly by? It must be the end of days!

 

I drew a picture of me and Adam (yes, this is supposed to be my husband) but I thought he looked way better than I did, so you only get to see his side of the doodle.

 

This is one of my favorite quotes from Roald Dahl from my favorite of his books The Twits. At the very beginning of his book he says, "A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose or a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely."

 

I remember reading that line as a child and wanting desperately to attain that shine that Mr. Dahl spoke of. For most of my life I made it my mission to be happy, kind to others, and always look on the bright side.

 

Since Jed's passing from Here to There, it's been a lot harder to have good thoughts. I fear that my shine slowly began to fade, shrouded by the sadness and depression I was (and, let's be honest, still am) feeling.

 

It's been up to Adam to keep the good thoughts going. He has been the one to pick me up each time I slip into the darkness, whether he brings home flowers, cooks dinner, makes me laugh, or buys me a new writing desk (EEEEE!!!!!). He's definitely picked up the slack in thinking good thoughts and being happy... because he's doing it for two of us right now.

 

Luckily, sometimes, his good thoughts are so strong and he shines so bright, it makes me smile and shine too. It's been slow, but I am trying to think good thoughts more and more and maybe one day (not so far away), I will shine again.

 

a.r.w.

 

PS: It's now officially fall! Pumpkin spice EVERYTHING.

 

PPS: The only thing better than a beard is a beard made of flowers.

PPPS: I like to throw coffee at my paper. I call it freckled paper! Because nothing in life is perfect--not even white paper. 

Smile

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Alright, this might just be the creepiest thing I have ever drawn.

 

To get into the Halloween mood (not that I need help), I have been listening to the soundtrack to my favorite computer game, American McGee's Alice. It's super twisted, dark, and creepy and I highly recommend it to anyone who loves the story of Alice in Wonderland or just freaky things. The soundtrack is equally spooky with old antique toys being played throughout the whole thing. I don't recommend listening to it while walking home, alone, in the dark. Just saying...

 

As I was walking to work today, I imagined this sight in my head. Alice--perfectly normal Alice--hides her wild thoughts that others might see as mad with a smile... a twisted grin that she learned from a very dear friend.

 

I think sometimes we have this same smile we learned from the Cheshire Cat. When life gets too hard, smile. When people call you crazy, smile. When you want to scream or cry, smile.

 

I'm trying to follow in Mr. Cheshire's footsteps and, when in doubt, smile... it confuses everyone else!

 

a.r.w.

Faces

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Do you ever feel like you have to bury your true feelings and wear a mask? Don't lie. All of us have had those days... We just want to burst into tears or scream at the top of our lungs but instead we smile and say, "I'm fine," because it's just easier. We never really want to have to explain ourselves... Sometimes we just want someone to accept our insanity, our bitterness, and darkness... So in those precious moments, they are also there to experience our joy.

 

I've felt like I am wearing a mask for a long time now. Some days I can take it off for a bit but most days I put a smile on my face, put my head down, and march my way through the day just hoping that I can make it back to my bed safe and sound where I can forget about feelings and faces and reality for a few hours. I've never really felt this way before and, in all honesty, it does scare me a little bit. My smile never used to be a façade, my positivity and optimism was not forced... but lately, it has been. Where life used to bring me happiness, I now tend to feel only bitterness.

 

I hope to one day wear that smile again and not force it to be there. Don't get me wrong! There are moments when I am genuinely happy and the smile is not a farce, but more often than not, that smile is hiding a tear or a scream... and sometimes it's hiding even nothingness.

 

a.r.w.

Nevermore

I've never met your love, Lenor

But I have my own lost soul I search for

And when I ask the raven for more

He looks at me and says the same as before

Nothing less and nothing more

Than just, "Nevermore."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I admit, I only just recently read Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven and I found that I really and truly loved it. There is that great gothic, creepy, old world feel to his stories and poetry and The Raven I think is the epitome of his creepy, gothic work.

 

As I was looking at my upcoming writing prompts, I saw "nevermore" weeks in advance and I was so excited. But the closer the day got, the less I was inspired to write something to do with "nevermore" and more inspired to draw (yet again, the face of a girl). I think I tend to have a very distinct style (stained glass hair, big, bushy eye-lashed eyes) and I tried to break away from that at least for today. I've learned that profiles are hard and I desperately need to learn how to draw hair not purple, pink, or blue. However, I still love my doodle girl wearing her raven crown. Perhaps she grew tired of hearing the word "Nevermore" repeated over and over again and this was her revenge against the raven.

 

The Raven is a very interesting story about loss and coping with the death of a loved one. In the poem (spoiler alert), our narrator descends into madness after his lover, Lenor, dies. Having experienced a great loss, I can see just how easy it is to lose yourself to madness... because sometimes that seems easier to cope with than reality.

 

I feel like you have a choice to make when faced with death and grief--you can go down one of two roads. You can either choose to protect yourself: you place your memories, your heartache, and that painful loss in a box and you place in on your shelf and force yourself to forget. You're able to continue on, painlessly, pretending that nothing is wrong, and you are able to heal more fully. Or, you continue to feel, you continue to mourn, and you live in constant pain. You choose to remember and, in a way, through your suffering, your loved one is able to continue on existing in your life and mind.

 

At first, I thought you had to make this decision and you could never go back, you could never change, and the two choices could not connect with one another. But I was wrong.

 

Some days--some moments--you are able to bottle up your thoughts and feelings; there are a few moments throughout the day where I am actually able to forget just how messed up my life is, forget about the gaping hole in my life and my heart, forget that I am grieving. But then, I recall... and it makes the pain all the more unbearable. And you decide, it's better to live in constant numbing pain than to force yourself to pretend that nothing ever happened.

 

I choose to grieve because grief is very much real and is the result of a deep love.

 

And, in a way, we are all walking down the same road--we all experience loss, pain, and grief at some point in our lives--and together, we can help carry each other's burdens, wipe away tears, and make the journey down this road a bit brighter.

 

And remember: we are not alone in our grief... We are surrounded by loss, life, and above all, love... Forevermore.

 

a.r.w. 

Kisses

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Those long, exhausting, sluggish days of summer have vanished (at least here in Siberia) and we are fully immersed in the crispness of Autumn... Of course, it could be snowing next week for all we know!

 

I love everything about Autumn. Even the air is electrified--you feel so much more aware of your body. The cold air bites at your cheeks and just makes it feel so much more alive.

 

I was walking to work today in 45 degree weather and I found that I had missed the cold, crispness of Fall. In China, there was no Fall... You went from humid, hot summer, to cold rain in winter. There was no transition, no changing colors, and no crisp kisses. Here, we have it all. The cold, the colorful leaves, that smell of rotting leaves... Everything is dying around you and yet you have never felt more alive!

 

Today's writing prompt was "nevermore" and my imagination went wild with different ideas... But they were all wiped away this morning on my walk to work as this image appeared in my mind. So here is (yet another) doodle (of a girl's face [my husband likes to point out]). I feel like you all deserved a break from the spookiness for today. I'm sure it'll return tomorrow.

 

a.r.w.