I’ve been immersing myself in creativity and self-expression.
Sounds like I have notions doesn’t it? I’m sure I do, lots of them and sure why shouldn’t I?
My second week of creativity bootcamp is coming to an end and what have I got to show for it? Has the house descended into chaos and are the children and Darren starving for want of a good dinner and a bit of attention? Not at all!
If anything the creativity bug has rubbed of on the eldest and she is producing paintings almost by the hour, she’s made some lovely little Halloween pieces from clay.
The youngest is doing just grand, helping out a bit more than usual which is always a plus.
And me, what have I been doing?
Stoicism has made a comeback and I’ve started running again. It’s early days but the promise of a stronger mind and body is kicking my self-control into gear.
I have also started knitting an advent calendar made up of 24 tiny socks, painted and written a bit of poetry.
I’m loving the painting but can admit in all honesty that my five year old self would have produced better. The thing is it’s not really about the finished piece. It’s more about the process, allowing myself the time to do something that I would normally feel is unproductive. It’s relaxing and it is good fun!
The poetry. Well here’s the thing. The poetry is different. I can’t quite explain how. It’s closer to the bone and much more personal. It seems so clichéd to say but it is cathartic.
April Came Too Soon
It descended in August,
Made itself at home between your heart and lung.
Silently crept upwards into your brain
Slowly robbing us of you, you of us.
Relatives seldom seen flocked to your bedside,
Once strangers, now they seemed to own our home.
So little time,
Greedily stolen by interlopers.
April came too soon.
By Karen Shiels 2015
Slán agus Beannact,