Out of The Silence

This last week has been one I hope not to have to relive. From feeling in the peak of fitness, to feeling like a child unable to move, in the space of a few hours. It has been a week of pain but also one of reflection. I have been here before, forced to take stock because of circumstances. I have spoken before of having voice problems. I had a time when for almost six months I could not speak at all. For one who depended on the voice to fulfil your vocation in life a frightening time and prospect.


The other difficulty of not being able to speak effected all those around me. People were at a loss. What could they say when they were getting no verbal feedback. As the time passed the number of people who visited became less and less and I was left to get on living the quiet life.

It was at this time I began for the first time to dabble with paint. To my surprise I enjoyed it and seemed to be able to produce art that people liked. So a disability had opened a new door in my life.

I remember my old grandmother used to say that every cloud had a silver lining. There is some measure of truth in this statement. I wonder what the silver lining is going to be to this spell of semi confinement and restriction. I am sure there will be something.

In the midst of all my silence there was my dog. There with me every waking minute. Watching me and understanding. We communicated without words and he just seemed to know. We ran together, walked together and he sat beside me as I painted. A constant companion in my silence.

When I took up painting again recently I tried to paint him. The painting still hangs in my study. It was a first attempt at painting a dog and I should really do him again some day. Even if I do this one will stay with me. I am aware that so many of you have pets that hold a special place in your lives and that you have painted or drawn them and made a much better effort than this one of mine.


Art is indeed a marvellous outlet and means of saying things that words can never say.


I have added a poem about those days, and him, it is on my other blog. I hope it lets you see why I attempted this work and what it meant to me.  Pools of Love

The Athiest

I had a discussion yesterday with a friend about this blog. I was getting concerned that it had possibly served its purpose, over the weekend it seemed nobody read it. She assured me that was not the case; she had in fact read them all. She also reminded me of at least one person who reads this daily. Sure enough there he was yesterday making comment. In the midst of all the things going on in his life, he still makes his positive comments. I write the blog his comments uplift me, and set me up for the next day. This seems like a good arrangement. I also get a lovely invite from Sharon to attend her book of memories launch, which I will make every effort to attend. So let me tell you a story that has its own little message, and one that I hope will start the day for anybody who reads it with a smile, if not a laugh.


A committed atheist (that's someone who steadfastly does not believe in a god of any sort) was on a trekking holiday when he became lost in some dense woods.

A large angry bear, with ten starving cubs back in the cave and claws like kitchen knives, suddenly emerged from the undergrowth.

The atheist screamed in terror, turned and ran. The bear was quicker however, and after a long and desperate chase eventually cornered the atheist in a gully.

The exhausted atheist sank to his knees, shaking.

The bear, seeing that its prey was trapped, moved slowly towards the petrified man, drooling. The bear was drooling too.

The atheist lifted his head, with tears in his eyes, and uttered the words he thought he would never say in all his life: "God help me..."

With these simple three words, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the sky. There was a deafening crash of thunder. The clouds parted. A brilliant light shone down. The forest fell silent. The bear froze still, in a trance. The atheist stood gaping, transfixed.

A voice came loud from above. Louder than twenty pop concerts all happening at the same time. We can safely assume this voice to have been the voice of a god of some sort.

"You atheists make me seriously mad," boomed the god, "You deny me all your life. You tell others to deny me too. You put your faith in all that bloody Darwinian airy-fairy scientific nonsense, and then what a surprise - you get lost because you can't read your stupid map, and now you're about to get eaten by an angry bear all of a sudden you're on your knees snivelling and begging for my help?......... You must be joking..."

The atheist looked down, realising that he was not arguing from a position of strength.

"Okay, I take your point," said the atheist, thinking on his feet, while he still had them, "I can see it's a bit late for me to convert, but what about the bear?... Maybe you could convert the bear instead?"

"Hmmn... interesting idea..." said the god, thinking hard, "...Okay. It shall be done." At which the brilliant light dimmed and vanished; the clouds closed; and the noises of the forest resumed.

The bear awoke and shook its head, a completely different expression on its face. Calm, at peace.

The bear closed its eyes, bowed its head, and said, "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful, Amen.."

Sometimes changing your belief does not always result in a change in actions. Maybe we need to be sure about what it is we believe before the crisis arises. Decisions made under pressure are seldom wise decisions.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the art.  Misty

Dogs and Conflict

I had a dog called Damon a great companion and running mate. He was always there for me. When nobody else wanted to run because the weather was so bad, Damon was there at the ready waiting to go. When I had a long spell of total silence unable to speak, because of voice problems, he seemed to know exactly what I was saying to him. I did not need to say anything a pat was enough. Sadly he was knocked over by a car while we were out running. I had noticed he was not keeping up with me, he seemed unwell. I decided to turn and head for home, he misunderstood and crossed the road as we usually did and was hit by a passing car. I frequently think of him when I am out running, how he would have enjoyed this run or that run.

I heard, or read, a story of a person who had bought a dog from a breeder. She had grown very fond of the dog and did certainly not want to lose it. The breeder had sent her a contract of sale within which there was a clause that said he retained the breeding rights of the dog. The lady was upset thinking that the breeder could come at anytime and take the dog from her for breeding purposes. She had consulted some lawyer friends and they had all said she had a case. Ready to go down that road she told another friend who advised she make contact and check with the breeder first. She did and discovered that this clause was included in the contract in error. All conflict was resolved.

A friend of mine was giving a talk at a meeting. He was in full flight and feeling very good, thinking the talk was going well. About halfway through a person got up from her seat and left the room in which the meeting was being held. He was concerned about what he had said, what had offended this lady. He kept looking for her to return but she never did, his concentration was lost and the second half of the talk he limped through. At the end they all thanked him but he was aware that he had not given of his best.

As the tea was being served he headed off to see if he could find the lady who had left so that he might apologise to her and put things right. He found her in the kitchen and asked her if she was alright. “Oh yes minister, she said, “I remembered I had left the light on under the urn and was concerned it would boil dry. Then I did not want to interrupt what was a really good talk so I just waited here and heard what I could through the shutter.” A misunderstanding and a conflict that never existed but so easily could have led to bad feeling.

The artist is often at conflict with themselves, nothing is ever as it should be. Conflict can and does always define the final outcome of a venture. It can create aggression or fear, either emotion which can lead to a paralysis. The artist in the midst of inner conflict must remain open to the many options. By harnessing the emotions that can cause conflict we can be even more creative and what could be destructive can become affirming and a joy. This is the way of Tao.