imageIt’s commonly known (check it out if you don’t believe me) that we all like talking – you, me and the world at large. Give us a stage and, generally, we won’t shut up.

It’s also accepted that out of everyone and everything there is to choose from (which, inadvertently, given the size of the world is a lot) the voice we love best is our own.

I’m not talking about the sound: the pitch, the polish, the tone, the timbre, the accent or even the intellect – so pause for just a moment before you jump in and disagree. These elements are more complex and subject to past and present events – slights and hurts, general levels of confidence and esteem. What I am talking about, instead, is the dialogue that comes out: the message, the truth.imageWe all like to express ourselves. It is a need as vital and necessary as water and food are. Listened to, we grow tall and mighty – our arms spread wide, our faces beautiful, radiant as flowers. Ignored, we retreat into shadow; hiding our pain inside dusty, light-deprived interiors.

Conversation is integral to human wellbeing. Our story and the telling of it – the airing and the sharing, the recording and the honouring – not only make it real, lending it meaning and sense; they also exorcise any demons which may otherwise remain trapped.

This form of writing: journal, biog, blog, etc… is popular because it allows us as the individual to let go and set free, simultaneously satisfying the greater need of the audience (aka: the population) for current happenstance in the form of detail, gossip, observation and plain old relating to and connecting with.imageI invite you to look into the minutiae of my life: extracts from my journal, articles I’ve written on a variety of subjects, conversational pieces about experiences and events, behind the scenes details of me at work.

Below are links to samples of my latest industry, of which the majority are observational.

All that has been taken and been destroyed
What peace there may be in silence
A Brush for a Tail
A different perspective or a novel approach
A Fit Bird
Nice girls swallow. Sensible girls spit
I spy with my little i…
Wings and Webbed Feet
It’s ok to judge a book by its cover
For the love of Chi
A Little White Chihuahua
Days like these
Spun gold to my inner magpie, artesian chocolate to my inner child
The creative benefits of keeping a diary
A creature of habit
The Potential Possum and the Mostly Moon
The strip of sticky happiness
Footprints more durable than memory
The tangle of knots
The Reluctant Robin and the Blue Bud
Things that go bump
Where bluebirds fly
The clucking of hens
The dishcloth dog
One step far away
Snowmen in winter
Writing about kittens
A fog shroud
David’s Stone
A dark hole
Where it hurts
Bah, humbug!
Wrongside Down
Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight…
I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight
A thorn in my side
The house that Santa Claus forgot…
…and then remembered.
Deck the halls…
Unto us a child is born
Feet snug in Uggs
Dreaming of where next…
Wonky triangle
Uneven sides
Growing the things that have shrunk
Multiple layers
A different approach to me
Without stitches you just have rags
Cardboard tea and sleep that is slow in coming
Delicate corridors that would be more comfortable left shut
Attempting to bridge the gap
The crack in the teacup
I stand in the middle, getting wet
The mirror is old and ornate
A leap I couldn’t rehearse
Practice makes perfect
Quiet, small and full of grace
Things I would love to shake
A villa with no neighbours

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