Physician – heal thyself

historicdesignin00john_0049 copy 2I am not sure how to start – why I should even want to – connecting is not the straightforward process I would like. I am in a fug. I cannot straighten my own perspective on the world I experience – and having just removed myself from the benefits of prescribed medication for the first time in a couple of decades, I am trying to be gentle on myself, but now I am needed.  My husband has retirement challenges – the common experience of finding how to re purpose one’s life.  I know I can only enable – not do anything, but it’s not easy seeing the person you live with struggle with the existential loneliness that is being human. We all struggle with it to a greater or lesser degree – a universal challenge then – but he, like me, is not a great fantasist. He cannot imagine something that is not apparent. And I am beginning to consider that the art of delusion should be on the National Curriculum in order that we maximise the potential of mental wellbeing. So how can I help? Probably cannot. I choose to try and stay kind – not leaping to judge, remembering its the tiny things that make a person feel loved. But part of me is 6 year s old and screaming ‘What about me?’

And so it is. And it will go on being like this – worrying for him, about him, wanting more for myself, feeling anxious that my sons and their loved ones are going to have to feel the pains of being human.  The only real answer is non-being and I don’t think that will do down well with the family.

So tell me how you manage those feelings of hopelessness, lack of worth, lack of meaning.  Tell me how a walk in the woods nurtures you, listening to Bach, stroking the dog. What am I missing?  My rational self understands all these strategies, even believes in them, but there is still a deep well of loneliness that refuses to be filled . It’s not completely dry, but it could do with some refreshment. This once voracious reader cannot connect with the writer’s I love, something has broken and I don’t think it’s them.


Good days, bad days



From W.B.Yeats poem


It’s always been like this. And hard to accept that the challenge is to get up every day and face what is ahead. Easier for some than others, and that in itself is a difficult consideration to process – that my life has always had the comfort and ease of being born in this century in a first world country – there is guilt in feeling any dismay when there are problems of hunger and terrorism affecting millions every  day.  First world guilt paralyses me. I end up chasing my own tail and trying to find some meaning in life through my relationships with the family I love and through the creative endeavour I call work but which is really play.

I cannot stop weeping – the tears are inside, I could cry that river if I ever dare to open that floodgate.  Recently I made a small decision which affects everyone around me, and has brought me to realisations of my own. For the past couple of decades (almost) I have taken prescribed medication to control the symptoms of a neurological disorder – the meds help to control disrupted pain signals, but they are in the anti depressant family.

It’s complicated – of course – what’s me, what’s my stage of life (menopause), what’s the condition, what’s the meds?  So I am simplifying things a little, now I have less familial duties to fulfil. The meds are gone – first a euphoria, a feeling of connection with the world that has been dulled somewhat – but accompanying that lightness of being are emotions that rattle around like a toy railway train out of control – is this me?

Who knows? This is a territory I haven’t explored for some time and I think there’s some rocky roads ahead, but walking boots on – I mean to try.


Out of this world

IMG_3111_2_3 HDR DBIMG_3382 LDR Vivid Colours

….or from another – the Spirits are there if you can hear and see them.


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Dearly Beloved

     beloved photo challengechris on the Cuillin   photo by Anne Corr

My man. On top of the world. Beloved memory.



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Rannoch Moor Scottish Highlands. A place of wonder where silence fills the soul.

Time for reflection… then moving on.

Just to recap over the past year – and remind everyone what I do as the day job! Working from home is often considered as not working at all. Having worked in industry during the eighties and nineties, then being a stay at home mum I can definitely tell you that choosing to create a business from a hobby is not the walk in the park many may think.  Working daily at creating new designs is great fun…. and time consuming work.  It’s not comparable to a shift at the coal face on a daily basis, but believe me, I put the hours in!  For the past few years I have been building a profile at print on demand sites, mainly Society6 and have seen lots of changes -new products, new algorithms (?) and lots and lots of new players.  It is increasingly difficult to be seen on a print on demand site, but perseverance pays and last year was my most successful there yet. Below are a few of the designs that made my best sellers. There’s no rhyme or reason for what sells and what lies unheeded. I am just delighted that some of my work is being enjoyed all over the globe!

2018 will see more of my eclectic design – inspired by nature, past masters and using my photography too as reference points to create something new, fresh, and ready to hang, wear or use. Dependant on which of the myriad of products you choose to purchase!jan9cjan9

I would love to hear from you if you  want  me to concentrate on a particular theme – you can have a hand in making your dream duvet or your best thought as a phone case! You can link to my page at Society 6 by navigating to the S6 on the menu or link here My S6 store – lots of stuff!

With Flowers

With Flowers.


South winds jostle them,

Bumblebees come,

Hover, hesitate,

Drink, and are gone.


Butterflies pause

On their passage Cashmere;

I, softly plucking,

Present them here!


Emily Dickinson remains one of my poets I return to time and again. She was 56 – my age- when she died , and in that span had written around 1100 poems. She didn’t publish in her lifetime, lived a life that has been described as reclusive and yet her writing exposes a fullness of human experience. I am left curious, and moved by her poetry. It is no surprise that her poetry is so enjoyed . I think I may just have my next project!

based on leoversin smudge copy