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Archive for the ‘Oddly here and Desperate pleas’ Category

Janet: “I’m sorry. I forgot…..”

Faeries: “We don’t care!!!” they leapingly exclaim.

J: “No..no, I guess you don’t!  I forgot you had this place to write, but hey, THE BOOK IS OUT IN THE BIG OL’ WORLD!!!!”  I exclaimingly laugh. (as if these are grammatically correct words, but who cares? We’re all a little on the ecstatic side of life)

J: “But I am sorry it took so long…”

F: “STOP,” they interrupt, “You are so Canadian. No sorries allowed. Time isn’t real. What’s real is the world needs a little magic right now.”

J: “And this is why you started haunting me in January. This is why being happy the family had it wasn’t enough.  Thanks for nagging. Thanks for signs. I am so grateful.”

F:   akeoriquopqaf998*ODjs    (dancing on keys)

J: “It’s beautiful – the book. A bit scary having such a magical but true memoir out there. But mostly it feels so perfect that it is out there, right now, sharing the magic.”

F: “Show them!!”

J: “OH ya, of course!”

bai-front-coverbai-back-info

TA DA!

F: Tell them where to find it!
J: Oh yes. What would I do without you?

You could go here for the  Print edition

or here for the Kindle edition

OR you can just go to your favourite Amazon site and search
Beyond All Imaginings Janet Whitehead

F: We are co-authors, but no one in the publishing world would put us in the search options.

J: People are saying good things… feeling blessed.

Thank you so much, Janet, I finished reading your book! I must say it was the most amazing book. Feelings of sadness, wonder, amazement and happiness filled me. Relating to your “spiritual” events gave me thought to some of mine. Thank you for making me believe!!!!!
Marie Ann Demoskoff

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“Huzzah!” they whisper. Too loud and they may distract too much. And that might mean a whole ‘nother chapter.
Hand holding in ‘ring around the rosie’ form, they prance in circles behind the wooden slat door of the laundry room, swung open because potter/ writer is too busy to close things. Cupboard doors are flung wide open, and the utensil drawer looks like it could land on the floor any minute. But the laundry room door flung open blocks potter’s view of the studio, so instead of hanging near by her quietly watching and carefully not disturbing, the faeries are dancing in the studio.
“♫ She’s almost done, almost done.♫ Final edits, she calls this.♫” they sing to you.
“We aren’t helping with that…because then she’ll have even more to say about us. And we just want the book done and out there.”
They hear footsteps and quickly flit into various corners…

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Oh dear, I really must get to bed.  Here’s Clue #3….  on this blog that has sat so quietly.  Mostly because we are busy writing the book, of course.

 

 

Almost finished!!!!!     For Clue #4 , go here!

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Someone once posted on this site that this painted faerie looks like a disgusting blobby mess.   It’s a good thing I already know what I know now, and I was able to delete her comment with a “ha ha!” and blocked her from my site!  Ha. That was fun. Kind of a ‘brush off’ technique when outer critics might affect you… but internet style.

A critic like that can stop creatives, though.  If it’s happened to you, think of the occasion now. With a smiling breath, physically brush it off. Really.. take your hands and brush that energy right off of you.  There.  All Clear. Go create.

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“Zen for me is a misshapen pot.”  That’s a favourite line in my novel.. which is – woo whooo! – getting completed.  A crazy bizarre novel… but more on that soon. I like the line, though.. because it reminds me that I’ve come a long way from a time long ago….

My pottery: Misshapen, carved, tiny details, faerie hands, heads, hair, bits of clay flying everywhere, porcelain sails, torn to look like sails, and more carving … this is NOT like throwing a series of symmetrical bowls for cereal.

And one time at a show, another potter -a production potter-  took me aside and showed me the bottom of his pots. “See?” he said, “the bottom of your pots have to be smooth and perfect.”

Well, I wasn’t as wise as I am now, so I didn’t come up with a witty remark.  I might now have said,

“Uh, huh… so once I’ve built the pieces with 40,oo0 bits of carved clay scattered everywhere over the work space, and once I’ve attached tiny little people.. I”m supposed to squash them entirely as I put the pot upside down on the wheel to spend time re-smoothing the little dints that occurred as a result of the highly creative one-of-a-kind process for each pot?  Is that what I’m supposed to do?  Hello!  I clean up the bottom the best that is reasonably possible… given what I do, do you not see you are being ridiculous by suggesting my pots be  PERFECT like yours on the bottom?  My bottoms are perfect in being one more sign that they are different.. in a good way.”

But no, I didn’t said that. I walked away feeling like my pots were not very good.  I knew it was impossible to have perfect bottoms unless I quit carving frantically, quit adding details like a madwoman, and of course, if I stopped listening to the call of intuition, the zone, the higher self, and all those little faerie-like spirits that always bossed me around.

Even though my pots started with a nice smooth bottom…. they were never going to stay ‘perfect’ unless I simply made a series of cereal bowls.

BUT still I felt bad.   The production potter’s  comment probably meandered around haunting me for awhile.  I probably even wondered if I should change what I do so I could have clean perfect bottoms.

I’m so glad I’m over that. I’m so glad that my imperfect break-the-rules pots evolved despite that part of me thought I SHOULD be following rules of symmetry and clean bottoms to be considered ‘good’.

But then, I can’t take credit for this… it was that crazy inspiration of spirits who first introduced themselves as faeries who pushed me past my perceived concept of perfect.

 

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Hemming and ironing curtains today made me want to make cookies, bake bread, wash windows, and eat meat and potatoes.  Yes, I used to be a homemaker.. there is something lovely about the smell of an iron, the sleekness of silk,  and the purr of a sewing machine.  It made me wonder when  the homemaker disappeared, and I believe it was when the faeries arrived in my clay.

But that’s okay.  It’s good.  However, to enhance this lovely feeling of being a homemaker I went to the store, bought pork chops, and am now munching them down with applesauce at 11 pm.  Interesting.

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A misty February morning in a little log cabin in rural washington.  Four dogs, one named Bear – a precious retired sled dog, transported here from the great north to have  the love and attention of  Brent and Peter in his aging years.  And now Bear is my very dear friend as we chat about the other realms and other side, so hopefully he feels safer when he does decide to journey there.

Huh. Bear got top billing.  How ’bout that. Lets put  the other critters here too.. rescued dogs to love, goats and llamas and kitties to feed and pet – real life ‘farming’ is so much more satisfying than farmvillain.

Brent and Peter… oh so lovely of them to invite me to retreat in this amazing place.  Ah, and faeries.. I wonder if they knew they’d also invited them to join us.

And now Bean Badonsky has arrived! Here to… well… it just seemed we ought to meet. so meetng we are!  Kindred in our philosophies and love of advocating for the creative being, and oysters and cheese and crackers.  Honoured to be spending this time, and she, like the others have top billing in this post.. no matter how you might actually perceive it.

Ahhh. Heavenly.

And Megan? Well, it’s her birthday week, and I just love her.

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