‘The afternoon of life is just as full of meaning as the morning; only, its meaning and purpose are different’Carl Jung
It’s funny how several things sometimes just come together seamlessly to create a blog post. Today’s Fandango’s One Word Challenge:Tribal merged in my mind with a quote I read on someone else’s blog the other day (apologies, can’t remember who!) that said:
‘Your vibe attracts your tribe’
And of course it’s the beginning of the month so we have a new Escapist Colouring Club link-up too.
So I decided this morning to create myself an A4 sized doodle quote page to colour in and share. Once I’d finished drawing my outline I was trying (rather unsuccessfully) to take a photograph of it before I started colouring it in, and my husband suggested scanning it and creating a cleaner digital copy instead – good idea!
I’m actually quite pleased with how it’s turned out 🙂
‘Colour is a power which directly influences the soul’Wassily Kandinsky
I wonder sometimes why I love being surrounded with colour so much, and frequently the answer that comes most often straight to mind is ‘Because your internal life is so grey’. I choose to colour my world in bright and strong and vibrant hues, almost proving a point to myself that yes, I can do colour, while inside I regularly feel nothing more than shrouded in a subdued, moody monochrome.
Depression does not provide a sunny-day-colour internal landscape, nor even allow for a veiled silvery sheen like muted moonlight in a clear night sky. Instead it smears my soul with thick, sticky mud, soaks my very fabric with foul, clouded misery until the sheer weight drags me down and I feel chilled to the bone, infused with a deadly damp that refuses to warm my sad, aching heart.
But I refuse to be beaten. And so I keep trying hard to bring colour to my life on the outside, in the hope that some of it may seep inward slightly, brightening the edges my dark dull mood…
‘The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes’Marcel Proust
One of my favourite poems of all time is ‘When I am dead, my dearest’ by Victorian poet Christina Rossetti. I realise it’s a morbid thought, but I’d love to record myself reading it out loud, and have it played at my funeral… For me it truly is poetry to die for…
'When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.'
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands’Linda Hogan
I saw this lovely big red rose while out for a walk this afternoon, and it reminded me of Robert Burns 1794 song ‘A Red Red Rose’ which we learned (along with a lot more Rabbie Burns poems) at primary school in Scotland, the simple tune to which I’ve been humming gently ever since… ❤
O my Luve’s like a red red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune’