sidled up to Pooh from behind.
'Pooh?' he whispered.
'Nothing' said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw.
'I just wanted to be sure of you.'
Sometimes its nice to have a place of your own, a place where you can go and just be you. In this place, you can have whatever you want, you can do whatever you want, and you can be whatever you want, because its your place, and no one else's. Nobody can give you your place, nobody can make your place, for it is a place you choose, and you create, it is something very personal, it represents comfort, security and "soul-itude". This has been one of those places for me.
We are creative beings, and I admire artists for their courage to express, and for the magic created in the expression. Creating is an extension of the soul. It is made up of all we have been, all we have are and all we can be. It is us. Our creative expression provides markers on our journey of experiences.
Our creativity is to be nurtured, encouraged, and above all celebrated. Creation feels good, it touches our soul, we are able to dive into its embrace, we can bathe in its purity, we can be lifted on its wings and be taken beyond ourselves, soaring beyond our form, and each creation is our own. No-one else experiences like we do, no one else sees the colours, the shapes, the form, no one else hears the harmony, the melody, the beat, no one else feels the emotion, the touch, or the love...
Whether the creation is a note, a stroke of colour, a moment captured on film, or a form created in stone, a movement, or a place of words, the experience is ours, unique...
Here are some bits and pieces that I have created, some I came across, and others were given to me specially. I'll add them as I can, but for now, in no particular order, here are a few... I hope you like the space.
You've been gone 11 hours.
You'll be arriving there soon.
Tonight, the moon shines where we slept last night,
Holding each other so tight, holding back the morning.
The moon now flickers through leaves onto empty sheets.
Can my memory comfort me, recreate your feel... your touch... you? ... No.
Did I not take it in? Did I not taste each full moment? ... I did.
But you are more.
My chest aches.
This moon will wane, and then grow again.
The light will play once more on the sheets, then fade,
Until again it comes to play with shadows,
Then to touch your skin.
Now to rest, and with this rest I will care for me,
I need to cradle my heart, with my own space of love.
To my heart I say thank you and I love you.
...the day Richard left
6 Jan 99
if you feel you need to email me right now...
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