“Jealous Of The Angels”

66821_234091456740446_1156119800_nI posted this last year but felt the need to re share it with you as a reminder that Monday is NOT a holiday but a day to remember those who came before us, and those who give themselves today so that you and I have the freedom we sometimes take for granted.

We don’t have to allow the commercial aspect of marketing to rush us into the next holiday on the ‘list’ so quickly! Remembering those who gave their lives for our freedom should be savored. Remembering those who lost their lives regardless of the battle they fought should be remembered in our hearts forever.

Loss affects every one of us. Death will greet us all, eventually. Risking your life for the lives of others is the ultimate sacrifice. Material loss means nothing to those who survived a battle…of any kind. Loss puts life into perspective. We need to continue being the change we want to see in our world and appreciate the gift that those who came before us gave. Battles are fought but not always won, leaving a legacy behind to be remembered.

The Heroes who fought to give us our freedom are being whisked away too quickly so we can drown in the madness of gross obsession for stuff none of us need. Stuff! Where has all the meaning gone? Wants and needs have become one of the same. They are NOT the same. What we need is to get back to the basics before we can’t see through all the distractions swirling around us, calling us like a deep seeded addiction calls an addict. Consumerism…we have all taken a hit of that drug. STOP the madness!

I don’t think we take enough time to appreciate what’s truly important in life. Health, freedom, spirit, love, friendship, unity and peace. The essence behind what is lovely in life is being over powered by marketing, money and greed. We can’t allow the human spirit to be set aside for such meaningless garbage!

We are reminded often lately how precious life is. The love that is present in our hearts for those who gave their lives selflessly can’t be forgotten. Lest We Forget is a phrase to caution us against forgetting those who died in war.

We can’t take any of our possessions with us when we leave this world, but I do believe when one is awarded with a ‘medal of honour’ it transcends with whom it belongs in spirit. Honour in your own way those who left you behind. Give those you loved their very own medal of honour to take with them when they go.

Human spirit rises in tragedy. We naturally reach out to those who experience a loss, it’s human nature. Compassion is alive and well. We are surrounded by Heroes in memory and in life as are we surrounded by Angels. I like to believe our Heroes get first dibs on the Angels waiting…and our Angels are past fallen Heroes giving themselves once again.

“Jealous of the Angels”…by Jen Bostic


Tugging Me Back

Some places from my past seem to insist on being revisited. I wonder if I’ve inadvertently leaked a little of my soul’s energy in these places and then can’t ignore the tug from that energy to return to the spot – just to breathe it into my essence again.

That’s how I felt about a small town I lived in when I was between the ages of 2 and 4 ½. Although I moved into three different houses in this particular town, I remember them all very well. So well, in fact, that when I was driving through there last weekend, I could easily find them on my own without any help or directions from anyone. The last time I was there was about 44 years ago (which is weird, cause I’m only 36!).

I don’t just have a faint memory of this town despite how very young I was when I lived there, no I remember many details – of the houses, the neighbours, the things I did back then, even thoughts I had.

My mom was with me on this last visit and I actually had to correct her on certain things.

“No she didn’t live beside us; she lived across the road from us in that house. Remember mom?”

To be fair, I did live there with my grandparents for some time before my mother joined us. She had been going to Business College out of town and would visit whenever she could until she graduated and then she and I lived on our own together. We started off right in town and then settled in a home just a few houses down from my grandparent’s house.

As we drove into town my mom said “There’s the Dairy Queen you and I would go to every Friday night. We would share an order of fries. Do you remember?”

“Yes I do remember, and then you would play your guitar for me when we got home.”

“You Are My Sunshine!” we both blurted out in unison.

She told me she still gets teary whenever she hears that song and I confessed to her that when I was a young woman if any guy called me Sunshine, I was his.  ¯\_(-)_/¯

I pointed to an area and said I was sure there used to be a park over there. Yes, it was true. Lots of memories were flooding back but I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to have them all wash over me and take me back to another time. An innocent time.

Aside from the many clear memories I have of that town there is one moment waaaaay back that will always stay with me. I had climbed into one of the apple trees in our front yard and then relaxed my back against a slanted branch. I fit perfectly in the arms of that old tree and I felt completely protected. I watched clouds drift across the bluest of blue skies and I knew I was a part of it all; that I was connected to everything. Now that may sound like a pretty heavy thought to have at 3 years old, but is it? I bet we all knew it when we were very small but gradually forgot along the way.

I wanted to go back and lean against that apple tree once more; I wanted to feel safe and connected and brand new again.  Sadly, the tree had been removed long ago; my grandparents are gone now too but as I stood gazing at the place they’d all once been, I realized something. I may not feel brand new but I’m still safe and most importantly – my connection to them, to all of it, never ends. I breathed in deeply and then walked back to the car. I left feeling energized by the experience once again. My essence restored.





Flowers of You!

This type of post is usually Jacquie’s territory but when I read about this artist in More magazine I was moved to want to share his work with you.

His name is Robert Blehert and he lives and works in Seattle.  When I visited his website I was surprised at how diverse his art is.  His collections include impressionism, portrait, sports, figurative, still life, animal and floral, but it is his floral gallery that really caught my attention.
His floral website www.flowersofyou.com explains it best:

Artist, Robert Blehert, paints portraits of women – not in the traditional style of painting women showing their physical likeness – but painting them in FLOWERS.  He captures the “essence”  – and paints their “essence” on canvas as he views it.  They are flower portraits done of women.

Robert talks with them in person or by phone, or hears about a particular woman or girl, and then using a highly textured acrylic style of painting, rapidly captures that person’s “essence”, spirit or personality on canvas.

“It is quite magical what happens when I do this”, says Robert.  “Women I have only talked with for 30 seconds and painted in this manner are telling me things like, ‘those are the exact colors I love and use in my home‘, or, ‘If I saw 100 paintings this is the one I would buy‘”.

Many women who have had their “essences” painted in this way, have stated that it made them feel more beautiful, more special, and more confident about who they are.  In this day and age it’s refreshing to hear results like this without the necessity of sprays, lotions, etc.

In Robert’s own words: “It’s the most spiritual pursuit of all my art endeavors”.

“I’ve always appreciated the beauty of women.” says Blehert. “Not just their physical beauty, but the creative beauty.” The project started when he set out to create a gift for a female friend.

What a wonderful concept.  I would love to see his interpretation of my own essence in the form of a floral painting.  A portrait of my soul; how cool is that?!

“It feels loose and free like the flowers were volunteers in a meadow.  Nothing cultivated or manicured!  It has a sense of “Spontaneous”.  I tend to act on emotion and the immediate feeling around me.” – Sharon