Life

Writing Prompts

/ A.L.A.S / 1 Comment

I’m back again. We just had our first Type-in for 2025, and it feels good to be back in the writing space. One of my biggest challenges has been making the time to write. I don’t prioritise it over other things that need my attention. I want to prioritise my writing, I just don’t know what to drop to allow that. But I suspect that social media might be a good place to start looking for those blocks of time. The latest BS over F#$^&*ook has given me another reason to seriously consider dropping out of the social media space, or to at least look at what other options I have. It’s hard. All my friends and family use this platform and for many of them, it’s the only way we connect. A big part of me really wants to fight back and say, ‘No! I will not be bullied out of my social space. I am disabled, LGBTIQA+, and neuro diverse and I have as much right to be here as anyone else. So, for now, I think I’ll black out for a week to support the message that it’s not ok to treat people this way, but I won’t be silenced indefinitely.

Anyhoo…. On to the matter of writing. I have struggled to make myself put pen to paper over the last year, but I’m determined to break through that drought. Our esteemed leader offered me a couple of writing prompts this morning and this is the one I ran with. It’s a first draft and I may or may not tidy it up. But it doesn’t really matter at this point. I’m writing and that was the whole purpose of the exercise.

Chat soon,

A.L.A.S

Writing Prompt

‘Hey Jo, have you still got it?’

‘Ssh! Yes, come inside.’

I slip in quickly and she closes the door behind me, glancing up the street to make sure I haven’t been followed. I can hear her kids upstairs and turn to look as one of them appears at the top of the stairwell.

‘Who is it, mum?’

‘No one, go back to your room and play. I’ll be up in a minute.’

We both watch until he leaves. She cringes when something crashes, and a fight breaks out.

Sighing, she turns to me and asks, ‘Did you bring the coupons?’

‘Yeah, I managed to get 300. I know it’s not what we agreed on but honestly, it’s a shit show out there. No one is giving up anything anymore.’

‘Fuck! I told you I needed 400 to pay for Emma’s hospital bills! I can’t give it up for less, it’s the only thing of value I have left. I’m sorry Sam, but we had a deal.’

I turn away so she doesn’t see the rage on my face. I knew before I got here that I had little chance of getting it, but the lure was too strong. I’ve been searching for weeks for these stupid things. Begging favours, prostituting myself for one measly coupon, stealing when I could, I even knocked over an old guy one day who was on his way into the market. Managed to get 10 coupons out of that job. This craziness was turning me into a monster. I slump against the wall and start to cry.

Jo slips an arm around my shoulder and holds me close.

‘I know it’s hard Sam, but honestly, it does get easier. I barely even think of it anymore.’

‘This whole thing is just BS. You know the arseholes only made it illegal so they can keep it all for themselves? Trying to make people believe that it’s shortening our lifespans and giving us cancer. What a crock! Aaargh! I haven’t had any for 3 months! If I was going to get over it, surely it would have happened by now? Can I just, I don’t know, smell it?’

Jo laughs. ‘Sure, give me a minute.’

I pace the hallway while she is gone. I can hear the kid’s asking questions, and her deflections, promises to go to the park later, no you can’t have an ice-cream. I stop in front of a mirror, shocked when I see myself. When did that happen? My hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in weeks and when was the last time I shaved? Dark circles under my eyes attest to the countless nights I’ve lain awake dreaming of what I can’t have. This new law is going to kill me if I don’t get a grip on myself soon.

Jo appears at my side. I hadn’t even heard her coming down the stairs. She holds a small tin in her hands. One of those old metal ones they used to have back in the last century, before all the wars. It looks like something you might cook a date loaf in. The writing is barely legible, something about the Ministry of Food, National Dried Milk? A bit hard to tell. She pries the lid off and holds it up. Oh my god! The smell is so overpowering! I breathe it in so hard that my sinuses start burning. My mouth waters and I start to laugh and cry at the same time. I want this so badly. I stand there with my hands on the tin, breathing in the aroma so deeply that I begin to feel like I’m meditating. Everything else disappears and for the first time in weeks, I feel my body starting to unwind.

I glance up to see Jo watching me, concern written on her face.

‘You really miss this, don’t you?’

I don’t know what to say. She’s right of course. But I know if I say yes, she might just give it to me, bills be dammed. Instead, I laugh.

‘Yeah, a little bit, but I’ll manage. I’ll keep looking for more coupons, see how I go hey? Can you give me another week?’

She agrees and I turn to leave, but as I reach for the door, a thought crosses my mind.

‘Could I just have one?’

She shakes her head and laughs but grabs one out of the tin and gives it to me.

‘Make it last.’ She laughs.

‘I will, I promise.’

As I sit by the river, sucking on this one tiny coffee bean, I finally accept that I have sold my soul. I’ll never get over this. I will die every day doing whatever it takes to get one more hit. A log drifts by my feet, and I watch the currents swirl. I slip off my shoes and lower myself into the river. It won’t take long. The tides are changing, and a storm is brewing.

The writing prompt was ‘Coffee is Illegal‘

© 21st January 2025 Annie Christie-Whitehead.

Overcoming Trauma: A Musical Journey of Resilience and Healing

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Yay! It’s been less than a year since my last blog post.

And I just realised after writing this post that the reason there hasn’t been anything since last August, is that I didn’t publish my last blog.

So, this is the blog that should have been published earlier this year…

February 13, 2024

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” Ambrose Redmoon

How many times can you sit down to write something and quit before you start?

Apparently, that number is infinite.

Many years ago I came across a YouTube video about a man called Paul Smith. Paul was born with Cerebral Palsy and his parents were told he would never have much of a life. His movements are greatly impeded by the condition and it would be easy to feel pity for him. But Paul discovered what he could do.

This interview with Paul really changed my perspective. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svzPm8lT36o

I’ve been plagued with conditions over the years that have impacted my ability to do what I love, and I’ve often struggled to keep going in the face of pain, frustration and limited mobility. But watching Paul’s video interview and hearing him speak about his views on life spoke to the depths of my soul. When people say to Paul, ‘I couldn’t do that!’ he always replies, ‘Well, what can you do?’

It made me think about all the things I can do, and while I might have some limitations around how long I can do it, there are many things I can do. I realised that I would often use my limitations as an excuse to not try. If I don’t try I can’t fail, right? It’s an old cop-out and one I’ve been aware of for decades, and sometimes it’s hard to not feel ashamed. But I know why I do it and I’m working through those things, so I try to be gentle on myself while still pushing forward and through the fear.

Writing has always been my first love, my greatest passion, and my deepest fear. It exposes me in ways that terrify me, and it opens me up to being vulnerable and hurt. For as long as I can remember I have committed my hopes and dreams, my fears, anger, hate, and everything I want and need to say to the page in some vague attempt to purge myself of who knows what. Rarely do I ever share those thoughts with others. But I don’t write to just clear my head. Journalling, or morning pages, or whatever you want to call the practice is a wonderful process and I highly recommend it for everyone, but it’s not the sort of writing I need. Once I have offloaded all the extraneous thoughts and processed the anxieties, the deadlines, the frustrations and to-do lists, then I start to write. Or not, as has been the case of late.

The closer I get to discovering what I really want to write about, the harder it becomes to actually write. The closer I get to discovering what I really want to write, the more I realise how vulnerable, real, and honest I need to be to write it.

It’s not that I plan to tell my life story in any great detail, but I am highly aware of how much of my history comes out when I write, fiction or not. Writing stories exposes us in so many ways and I have spent my whole life running, burying, closing in, withdrawing and trying desperately to remain hidden from those who would harm me. But I’ve also spent a lifetime running to, opening up, embracing, and reaching out in an attempt to understand, heal, and move forward. I have lived with the dual knowledge that I am worthy and worthless, capable and incompetent, powerful and fragile, and so many other opposites that it really amazes me some days that I’ve managed to keep going. I gave a talk once that was titled, ‘My Life is an Oxymoron’, and it still makes me smile to remember it. Despite all the hard, there has been so much joy and every day I discover something new. Sometimes what I discover is more of the hard, sometimes it is more of the joy, and sometimes it’s hard to tell what it is as the lines can blur.

Today, I discovered that I’m tired, and I’m a little unsure about whether I can push myself to keep writing. I’ve been away from the computer for the past 94 days. I quit smoking back in November and discovered that smoking and writing were intrinsically linked and for a time, I needed to stop writing to deal with that. I’ve gradually come back to doing morning pages and that has been a much-needed process, but today is the first time I’ve turned on the computer and tried to write.

This is where the post finished. It was really hard dealing with the way smoking had become so intrinsically linked to my writing. For a time, I started to wonder if I’d ever write again. But here I am…

And this brings us to the current post where I started to expand on why I thought I’d been away for just under a year.

I should be grateful, and for the most part I am. The things that keep me away from blogging are usually wonderful.

My wife and I live on ten acres of beautiful bushland and pasture that takes a lot of work to care for, but it’s so worth it.

With five adult children, and five grandchildren spread across the country, I spend a lot of time visiting them and trying to be a great Nannie. I love them all so much and time flies by so quickly that I really want to make the most of the time we have.

I have a great casual job, that is super flexible and allows me to do what I love best, collecting stories at a grassroots level to inform funding and programs that are actually needed.

I volunteer weekly at a few different craft groups which allows me to give back while indulging my own creativity, and occasionally I get together with an awesome tribe of like-minded friends for dinner and various celebrations.

But there’s a dark side to my absence too. I’ve lived with the impacts of trauma my whole life, and while I’ve done a lot of work to heal, it has been a time-consuming process. Sometimes the things we don’t deal with catch up with us.

In my late 20’s, my health started to deteriorate rapidly. Now, 35 years later, I’ve finally been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. It sucks, big time. But I’m trying hard to see the diagnosis for the blessing it can be. At least we can start treating it properly and it has really pushed me to make some big decisions about how I choose to live my life. I’m terrified I’ll lose my vision completely, the fatigue is awful and has recently gotten worse, and my system is shutting down and not working properly. Everything is just too bloody hard! But I also know I’m really slack at doing good self-care, I put everyone else’s needs first, and I avoid dealing with my emotions as much as possible. It’s just a pity that it takes a big kick up the bum before we make the changes we should have made much earlier.

But I didn’t come here to moan about my poor health. I come here because, for some bizarre reason, my brain thinks that writing on this blog helps keep me accountable to myself. It’s hilarious really because I know very few people read this, and I’ve reached an age where I don’t really mind, which is obvious from how often I blog. Yet every now and then, someone drops in and leaves a comment that lets me know they’re here, and maybe one day I’ll write something that touches somebody else’s heart, and that is important to me.

So, I keep writing…

Not as often as I would like, but enough to keep me engaged. I’ve been working on the storyline and song lyrics for a musical, and filling in gaps in my autobiography (only intended for myself and the kids). I’ve been playing with writing prompts and pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I’ve also been trying to expand my reading material to include genres that I don’t usually explore.

A friend recently invited me to be a Beta reader for her latest novel and I gladly accepted. OMG! I had no idea how much work goes into this! In the end, I ran out of time and energy and I think I handed her a pretty poor assessment. Pays to do your research before taking on a new job. My saving grace was picking up a couple of errors, but I’m sure someone else would have noticed them. One thing it did teach me was there’s a big difference between reading a book for pleasure and reading it to answer questions and make assessments on the book and its contents. The other thing it reminded me of is that I’m far better at proofreading than I am at being a beta reader. We live and learn.

The musical came out of the blue. I participated in NANOWRIMO again in November last year. I started off with no idea what I was going to write and by the end of the month, I’d written the outline for a play about intergenerational trauma, a play that I quickly realised wanted to be a musical. Song lyrics started to flow, character development flourished, settings fell into place and everything was coming together well. I took a break over the Christmas period and when I came back to it in February I was completely demoralised. It was so morbid and depressing! But I haven’t given up. What I realised was that the parts that flowed easily were the parts that I really needed to write. The hurt and angst that flows through the script is integral, but it took time and distance to see that there is also joy in the story; it’s just a little harder to find. My challenge now is to go back and look at the story through different lenses.

One of the ways I’ve been doing this has been to talk to older family members, cousins mostly. I’ve been hearing stories that have shifted the way I view events and people and given me alternative lenses to try on. It’s been an experience that I am very grateful for and has almost convinced me to consider talking to one of the key players. But I’m not quite there yet.

I’m acutely aware that in its current state, this is my story, and it’s deeply personal. Whether it will ever evolve into a universal story that works for the stage is beyond me to answer right now. Maybe it will only ever be the story I need to write for myself and if that is the case, that’s wonderful. The main thing is that I am writing and every day I wake up wanting to write more. My heart is full, I’m doing what I love, and slowly the shattered pieces are finding their place.

People used to approach Paul Smith and his art and say things like, ‘That is amazing. I could never do that.’ Paul would always reply with, ‘What can you do?’

This! This is what I can do.

“What is the pain you are willing to sustain?” Mark Manson

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In my last post, I mentioned that I’ve been wondering how I want to use this blog and played with the idea of tracking my artistic journey. I’m going to run with that as it’s the primary focus in my life right now.


Over the last few years, I’ve tried to incorporate art into my life as much as possible. It hasn’t been easy. Juggling the constraints of adult life, self-care, work, and family is something I’ve found to be incredibly challenging. In the past ten years, I’ve been diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, and Executive Function Disorder, and while that explains a lot, it doesn’t tell me how to stay focused, plan and organise my time, regulate my emotions, or deal with impulsivity to name a few.


A common scenario is this. I started my second year of uni on a high. My bullet journal was up to date, I’d read all the novels and readings over the summer, I spent time sorting out my timeline for assignments and tutorial tasks and every day I checked in to make sure I was on track. What I forgot to do was allow time for life. As the weeks progressed and outside commitments came up, I found I was getting further behind. My stress levels rose, things got forgotten, essays got pushed back and avoidance started to kick in. By the end of the semester, I was so stressed and so far behind that I had no capacity to deal with a crisis, failure was inevitable. I know that sometimes shit happens, but this shit is a recurring theme for me.


Or I decide to implement a new health regime like meditation. For the first week, I diligently make time to meditate, and I love it. Then somewhere in the second or third week, I ‘forget’ that I’m creating new neural pathways and before I know it, three months have passed and I find myself saying, ‘Oh, that’s right, I decided to meditate each day. Wonder what happened?’ It’s frustrating and demoralising.
I’m still learning to work with a brain that seems determined to sabotage my every attempt to move forward. For those of you who haven’t come across this voice yet, and I doubt there will be many, my companion appears in the form of a well-meaning parent who is scared to let go in case I get hurt. This parent has very firm ideas about what is the right path for me.


‘You’ll never make money as an artist, why don’t you become a secretary?’
‘This is going to hurt, you know you can deal with it later, don’t you?’
‘Are you sure you want to wear that?’
‘Yes, I know you’ve made progress and have achieved so much, but…’


You get the idea; negative self-talk has been a topic of discussion for decades. Thankfully, I’m screwed up enough to need therapy, so I get the benefit of regular opportunities to learn new life skills. One of those skills has been learning to put myself out there and teach my brain it is safe and worthwhile to trust both myself and other people. This is scary! For anyone who has experienced trauma or rejection, trusting feels like the stupidest thing you could do. Opening myself up for that pain feels like self-sabotage, but I’ve come to realise that withdrawing from humanity means missing out on love as well.


About ten years ago I read an article by Mark Manson, he asked, “What pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for?” https://markmanson.net/question
His article resonated with me on a lot of levels, and I began to question the goals I was reaching for. At the time, I was studying science at university and as much as I loved it, I found myself becoming increasingly depressed. Why was I doing this? Will I use it for anything? Who am I doing this for? I was also avoiding doing the one thing I’ve always loved, creative writing. Mark’s article forced me to evaluate how much struggle I was willing to have in my life to achieve my goals. I looked at all the things that were hard about the science pathway and asked myself whether I was willing to work that hard to become a scientist. On nearly every answer, I said no. It was depressing as I was already at the end of my second year and because I realised I was trying to prove something to someone else. This wasn’t my pathway.


After a while, I decided to ask myself the same questions about being a writer. Keeping in mind that at this point, my writing consisted of morning pages and a lot of crappy poetry sprinkled with a few gems and some half-hearted attempts at drawing. I jumped online and researched the challenges of being a writer and formulated them into questions. Every single question got a big fat yes! For this, I will struggle, I will burn, I will break. For this I am willing to face rejection, to lose sleep, to keep trying repeatedly.

Because writing means everything to me.

I can’t imagine a life where I don’t write. I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember, but fear of failure kept my dreams small, and fear of rejection kept me from sharing what I write. Well, I’ve been rejected multiple times and I’ve survived every one of them. I’m learning to see them as lessons rather than failures, and I’m finally listening to the voice that knows this is my path.


Considering this knowledge, I joined a couple of writing groups; one local and one online, both very different. The local group is heavy on sharing and critiquing, while the online one focuses on dedicated writing time. I also had a few semesters at uni where we had to critique the writings of other students. I’ve slowly learned that putting my writing up for critique is doable; sometimes scary, but often very rewarding. I’ve also found that sometimes the critique you get is biased and knowing how to take what is useful on board and let the rest slip away, is helpful on so many levels. Allowing my work to be critiqued is making me a better writer and teaching me different ways of viewing my writing and the world around me. It also showed up all the cliches in my writing.

First time for everything


Last year I participated in National Novel Writing Month NANOWRIMO https://nanowrimo.org/ for the first time. The goal is to try and write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November. I went into it with the idea of ‘Let’s see what I can do.’ I didn’t write a novel, but I did reach my word count. What I came out with was ideas, scenes, and characters for a trilogy. It was bloody hard work and I take my hat off to anyone who manages to write an actual novel in this time. It would have been so easy to give up. My wife and I contracted covid in October, and by November I’d developed pneumonia, followed by gastroenteritis and conjunctivitis. My body was falling apart, but my head and heart were determined. The funny thing is that being sick gave me cause to slow everything else down. No one wanted me around while I was sick, so I was able to dedicate my time to writing, and I did it in a way that allowed me to rest whenever I needed it, and work when I could.


What I also gained from this process was the realisation that if I dedicate myself to something that appears unreachable, I can get so much closer to it than I ever dreamed was possible. I’ve come to appreciate that I don’t know what I can do because I haven’t done it yet, and that’s fine. What I can do is show up and give it a go. Moving forward, I know one of my biggest challenges will be learning how to find the balance between my dreams of writing and art, and my commitments to work, self-care, and the people I love.


This week I submitted a short piece for the Tasmanian NANO Spring zine which will be distributed at The Small Press Zine Fair next month https://www.facebook.com/events/583435487325065
This is way outside my comfort zone, and I was nervous about having a go, particularly as the theme of Spring wasn’t resonating with me. I spent a few hours dot-pointing ideas, eventually deciding that I don’t like spring; so, I wrote about that. I considered using a pseudonym, but in the end, I just went for it. I’m glad I did because the few people who’ve already read it, liked it.

Over the last week I have found myself exploring the zine world again, I had no idea it was still so popular. A friend and I had a go at making zines many years ago and I still have them. I pulled them out to have a read and discovered two very interesting things. Firstly, they weren’t very good, were full of advertising, and had very little creative content. Secondly, I was so proud of my small contributions and I remembered how much fun we had making them. I didn’t give it much more thought, but every night since I have found myself waking up through the night with ideas for zines. Maybe I’ll explore this one a bit further and see where it goes. The idea of doing something that allows me to combine my love of writing with my art is very tempting.


For now, keep reading, keep writing, and keep creating.

Keep doing whatever makes your heart soar.


Namaste
Annie
A.L.A.S

Combining art with writing is something that I've always loved doing.


Image: Silhouette of my children on the beach. This painting was submitted to the Minds Do Matter Art Exhibition and received the People’s Choice award. It was the first time I’d ever tried to paint anything. © Annie Christie-Whitehead 2010

Images © Annie Christie-Whitehead

From L to R: Creative journalling page, Ulverzine 2008, heterometrus sp., shading practice from Visual Arts course in 2021, painting: random ideas of a moonscape, “Together” My first attempt at painting submitted to the Minds Do Matter art exhibition in 2010 – winner of the People’s Choice award.

Procrastination is a healing word

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It’s too wet to work outside today and I’ve been sitting around playing games on my phone instead. There is plenty of work I could be doing inside but I felt the need to download for a bit so here I am.

My last post was a few months back and all it said was, I’m back, watch this space. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly time can fly when we don’t make the effort to stay on track. I could give a million and one reasons as to why I haven’t written ANYTHING for the last year but the truth is I’ve been procrastinating.

It’s the same with so many areas of my life at the moment. I have to quit smoking, dairy, and gluten, lose weight, and get back to swimming, and writing and I keep saying, Yeah, Yeah I know!!!! I want to meditate daily but don’t usually think about it till 30 seconds before I fall asleep. There are a hundred and one jobs to do around the property but instead of finishing just one, I go out and find another to add to the list and rarely finish any of them. I say I will commit to writing daily and rarely last more than a few weeks.

Sometimes I wonder if a part of the problem is that I have too many interests/jobs/commitments and end up feeling so overwhelmed I don’t do anything; part of me says, bullshit 🙂

Part of it is that I don’t have the energy levels that I used to have, thanks to Fibromyalgia, Depression, Anxiety, and Autism; but I also know that if I dealt with some of the things that I’m not doing, my health would be a lot better than it is.

Part of it is an overwhelming sense of grief and loss and a deep-seated belief that whatever I do, it will never be enough. I no longer blame my childhood on this one, I chose to keep walking this path long after I realised it no longer served me, and I’m the one who consistently refuses to face the lessons I need to learn. Part of it is guilt, frustration, anger, hopelessness, blah, blah blah. A lot of it is excuses.

Time and again I find myself confronting the word procrastination. I’ve looked at it inside out, upside down, back to front, and every which way I can. I’ve analysed myself on so many levels trying to work out why I do it and I’m still none the wiser.

The only thing I suppose I can say is that I’ve come to realise that procrastination can be a tool for healing. It took a long time for me to learn how to notice when I am procrastinating, (mindfulness helps this) and what I have found is that when I am doing it, if I take a moment to ask myself why, I often find that there is fear lurking in the background.

Take writing for example, I have wanted to write a book for as long as I can remember. I love writing and have journalled/written poetry and short stories since I first learned how to write. And yet, every time I start working towards a story that could become a novel, I get so far and then stop. Sometimes it will be months before I even realise I haven’t written anything. This is one I have pulled to shreds and I know it is fear of failure behind the procrastination. I also know that until I start writing for myself and not to impress my father (like that will ever happen lol) I will continually face this wall.

Other things aren’t always so obvious but I’ve found that I can usually see a pattern once I start unpacking the procrastination. Of course, then I procrastinate about actually dealing with it 😀

The sun has come out and I thought that before I finish up, I’d have a quick scout on the net to see if I could find some appropriate quote to finish. I found this instead 🙂

https://zenhabits.net/procrastination-fears/

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Moving Day 1

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Well, Karen’s place is all packed up and we’re just waiting on the removalists to arrive. There were a few tears last night, leaving in any capacity brings its sorrows, but when it’s been your first home it’s always that bit harder. I’m sure I’ll be no different tonight as we pack up the last of the things at my place.

We’re both exhausted but really happy that the end is nigh, it’s been a very long month.

Catch you all on the other side 😊

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Blogging101 – Day 2: Take control of your title and tagline.

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Today’s assignment: edit your title and tagline.

“Deep inside the forest” I found,

Another Life, Another Story

When I was about 10 years old I came across the tv series, Grizzly Adams, and I fell in love. I fell in love with the man, the animals, and the way of life, but mostly I fell in love with the wilderness. Not long after, my parents took me on a holiday to Katoomba in NSW, Australia and for the first time in my life, I experienced the beauty and tranquility of being surrounded by mountains and forests that took my breath away. At that moment I made a vow to myself that one day I would escape the city and live in a place like this.

Jump forward 10 years and I found myself living in Tasmania, Australia. Still living in the suburbs but surrounded by some of the most amazing wilderness on earth, I dreamt of a day when I could buy a home out of town and finally realise my childhood dream. Over the next 15 years, I spent countless hours roaming through the wilderness, falling more in love every day and finally coming to the realisation that I not only wanted to live in the bush, I needed it. Coming home to the suburbs from these bush walks always left me feeling like there was a huge piece missing from my life. It was only when I was out in the wilderness, surrounded by the tranquility and peace of the forest, that I found I was able to really relax and unwind.

On the 20th of November 2015, my wife and I finally did it. Hmmmm, that is to say, we finally bought a home in a beautiful rural/bush area of North West Tasmania. At the moment we are going through the hectic process of relocating but we are almost there and next week we will finally be living in our new home.

When Michelle asked us to think about the name and tagline for our blog, I realised that a big part of what I want to share with my readers all stems from this childhood dream. I chose Lifetimes (plural) of Gratitude for my site name because I believe that I have lived many times before and I’m happy to stick with that for now but I wanted to change my tagline to reflect the thoughts I’ve written about here today.

“Deep inside the forest” is the first line from the song, Maybe, by Thom Pace which was the theme song for Grizzly Adams. The second part of the tagline is a reference to the way I tag my posts, poetry, stories, and illustrations.
Another Life, Another Story, because I believe this isn’t the first time I’ve been here and probably won’t be the last going on the way I’ve managed to majestically screw up so much of the first 47 years.

My current journey has brought with it a lifetime of dealing with depression and anxiety, autism, gender and sexuality issues, and very low self-esteem. I am so grateful that the last seven years have seen me finally living in a space where I have learned to appreciate my own worth and while I’m sure there will be many lessons to learn throughout my remaining years, I’m very happy with the place I’m in right now.
A large portion of my personal growth has occurred in the wilderness and it’s within this sacred space that I want to share,
Another Life, Another Story.

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Our new home: “Baile” Natone, Tasmania

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Inspired by Maybe – Thom Pace 1979.

Deep inside the forest
Is a door into another land
Here is our life and home
We are staying, here forever
In the beauty of this place all alone
We keep on hoping
Maybe
There’s a world where we don’t have to run
And maybe
There’s a time we’ll call our own
Living free in harmony and majesty
Take me home Take me home
Walking through a land
Where every living thing is beautiful
Why does it have to end
We are calling, oh so sadly
On the whispers of the wind
As we send a dying message
Maybe
There’s a world where we don’t have to run
And Maybe
There’s a time we’ll call our own
Living free in harmony and majesty
Take me home
Take me home

Blogging101 – Day One: Introduce Yourself to the World

/ A.L.A.S / 6 Comments

Hi world,

I decided to participate in Blogging101 to kickstart my New Year and hopefully learn some useful tips to improve my blog. Day One has asked us to do an introduction for a new blog or expand a little on what we already have if we’ve been writing for a while.

I’ve been blogging off and on for a few years now, I think I’ve had about 5 different WordPress sites and a few other ones that I can’t remember now. Some of them have faded into the neverlands of “I can’t remember my password” and/or “my email address linked to that account”, others I just got bored with or didn’t like the way it was developing and being a rather anal/autistic/OCD type of person, it was easier to start a fresh blog than try to delete a year or two of posts that I don’t like or want to share anymore.

So why this blog?

In 2014 I challenged myself to do a Year of Gratitude on Facebook. I had a vague idea that I might one day turn the posts into a book but decided once it was over to upload them to my blog and share them with the Universe, just because I can.

I’m still in the process of editing the last few months and tidying up a few loose ends but the whole 12 months is up and available to read if you care to have a look.

As to where to next…..

Well, I’m not sure at this stage.

I signed up for Poetry101 a few weeks ago (loved it, give it a go!) and have signed up for Writing201 in February. At the moment I think the main focus is just getting myself back into the habit of writing and that leads me to why I’m blogging rather than just writing in the closet.

One of the things I discovered about myself during my Year of Gratitude is that I have a really big problem motivating myself. Because I had committed publicly to posting every day for a year I found it a lot easier to push myself each day, out of my comfort zone, out of depression days, and up to the computer to write. When I finished the year I had no reason to write every day and very quickly I found that I wasn’t writing at all.

I love writing but some days I need a push and for me, the commitment of having an audience, (real or imagined) is enough to get me to the computer. Doing courses like this one helps as well and there are plenty of other sites that offer motivation to writers when they can’t find it themselves.

I’d like to develop this blog into a journal that reflects the lessons I learned from committing to a daily act of gratitude as well as anecdotes about life in general, my wife and kids, our farm, pets, autism, art, music, poetry, well just about anything really.

I’m hoping that by the end of this year, I will be fully committed to writing again and will have dragged out my old notebooks and started to seriously devote time to my novel writing.

In the meantime…..

We are about to move house onto ten and a half acres of pasture and bush, I’m exhausted from packing but there is still so much more to do so I better stop doing this and start doing that.

Chat to you all on the commons.

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Now

/ A.L.A.S / 3 Comments

“Sometimes, we get caught up in nostalgia, future fantasy, or both, and we don’t embrace the “now.” For this week’s challenge, take a moment to notice your present, and share a photo of it”.
Written in response to The Daily Post – Photo Challenge – Now

Now

Today started with more stress than I care to deal with so this challenge was timely and appreciated.

Combining Christmas and moving house is never an easy thing and although it has been going relatively smoothly, there have been moments when I’ve felt like pulling my hair out.

So…

I took a moment to stop.

To appreciate the now in my life.

To sit and watch the water as it sprayed amongst the ferns and watch the light dancing on the fronds.

I took a moment to recover, to appreciate, to enjoy and I am grateful for the reminder to live in the now.

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Now