Love doesn’t come to a stern command
Love is not a slave

Love does its own will
Love has its own way

Love’s awareness
Is with you
When your heart softens to let it in

Love melts down
All the wrong in the world
Into basic elements
And rebuilds it good and new

Colouring books are gaining popularity among adults – Life & Style – NZ Herald News

Amazing how adults are swarming online to sweep bestselling colouring books off the virtual shelves, eager soothe their souls with the simple pleasure of adding a little colour to their world!

Wildersoul Colouring Book

Colouring books are gaining popularity among adults

via Colouring books are gaining popularity among adults – Life & Style – NZ Herald News.

What a fantastic article. Grown-ups everywhere are purchasing their best-selling colouring books without attracting attention from onlookers in bookstores! In celebration of the rocketing popularity of colouring books for soothing the soul, here is a small bunch of favourites to fill with colour.


Greeting card fern2

blank frames 5

She saw the Minotaur pencil

Weekend blank frames 28JUL -5

Happy colouring,


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Inspiring Education?

Violence, Sex, Drugs, Obscenities, all those things that fill movie theatres and overflow box office coffers, are they harming our children in real life, in schools?

Strangely, it was not the major consideration when I chose to homeschool my children. I believe children learn best when secure in a loving home environment, with a strong family bond. Schools, in response to much research, try to replicate this bond, calling it a sense of belonging, and include it in their curriculum. The best teachers create this family bond with their students. As a child, did you ever accidentally call your teacher “Mum?” I did once, and blushed.

School teachers like E. R. Braithwaite, Ron Clark and Erin Gruwell inspire me. Anne Sullivan who taught within Helen Keller’s home also inspired me. They didn’t give up on kids who battle daily with circumstances beyond their control. They came up with innovative, creative ways to transcend those circumstances.

Each to their own. I have great respect for the school teacher’s ability to maintain control over a crowd of thirty-odd children. It was hard for me to do that for half an hour with a classroom full of five year olds. I am not a school teacher who sets up a classroom at home. I am a parent, who sets up a home environment to cater for the voracious appetite for learning that children are born with.

What inspires you about your children’s education?

Seven posts for HarsH ReaLiTy

**Ooh I have an idea! Have a go at creating a piece of writing from one of the phrases below! Send us a link in the comments.**

Halfway through writing my guest posts for HarsH ReaLiTy. I reckon if I can get all fourteen written before the end of December then it’s all on. I might just keep up the writing habit. I am enjoying it so far, and have surprised myself with some of the pieces.

Here’s a sneak preview, three phrases randomly picked from some of those seven posts:

Life is birthed, shrivels, greys, passes away, replaced by the next card in the pack. Flipflipflipflip!

Free gifts are the best gifts of all.

“Don’t stare at me,” he whispered vehemently, hissing under his breath, like a disturbed snake.

Keep an eye out from 3-17 January at

Surprisingly Effective?

How very interesting. Colouring as a form of art therapy, or any form of creative expression as a form of therapy can be such a help. I wonder where the data for this chart came from…

Leeanna Mantica: Creating Empathy

Surprisingly Effective?

Art Therapy: Surprisingly Effective
If you’re surprised by the effectiveness of art therapy in treating depression, think again. A new study shows that art therapy is more effective than other, more popular, treatment methods.

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Eckhart Tolle – Enjoying Every Moment

This moment, right now, I am conscious, I breathe. Thank you Renard Moreau for sharing this video of Eckhart Tolle.

Real Heart

Thanks Coco, for sharing this wonderful quote, and stunning drawing to go with it!

Coco J. Ginger Says

artist-creating-life“Any fool can be happy.
It takes a man with real heart to make beauty
out of the stuff that makes us weep.”
― Clive Barker, Days of Magic, Nights of War 

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The unofficial epilogue of the period.

(Burst – A History of the Period by Trent Lewin can be found within the depths of Trent Lewin’s blog at Trent’s four-part series inspired this simple epilogue, while Trent himself inspired me to write. Nuff said.)

The simple dot at the end of this string of words is a distant descendant of that heroic armless period which rose into existence before the invention of the first closed fist. Small and round-bodied, seemingly insignificant, greatly outnumbered by his one-armed half-brothers, the commas, who hardly let a word in edgeways, the simplicity of this dot is his greatest weapon. He always manages to have the last word. Almost…

“A weapon?” you may ask in disbelief, as if a tiny dot presented any kind of a target for attack. Yet there was indeed a mortal enemy, smudging at the edges of reality with a relish for obliterating small dots.

Before the History of the Period, this tiny dot of an ancient ancestor climbed a hill into the dying rays of a setting sun, to stake a claim to the planet in whose image he was shaped. The circle of the sun sank into the vast sphere of the horizon, and the dot felt at one with the roundness of his universe. As darkness once again threatened to overwhelm him, he called valiantly into the night sky with the whole of his being. With a great whooshing a billion dots ripped cleanly out of the blackness of space leaving a sparkling brightness sprinkled in their absence. In one moment, the dot amassed a billion friends on Earth, and conquered the vanquishing darkness.

For many years, the tiny dots lived without fear, until someone took a very close look at them. How round, how perfectly symmetrical, incomprehensibly so. Suddenly their numbers grew less as handfuls of them were plucked from the grassy hills to be enslaved in caves where they were glued on to the cold rocky walls to punctuate stories to little boys and girls who loved to stay up until the stars came out and twinkled.


How one of these ancient dots materialized on to an un-extraordinary sheep farmer’s manuscript, many centuries later in Pamir, no-one ever really came to know. A certain few guessed that the remaining handful of tiny dots in their fervent passion for freedom re-learned how to whoosh briefly upwards, in a great struggle against the gravity of their dwindling circumstances, and ride the thermal currents of the lower atmospheres, some landing here, some alighting there, at the whim and fancy of the fickle weather. Who is to say whether the sheep farmer’s simple mark may have been blown in, shivering, on a snowy gust of wind, happy to find rest in a natural position at the end of the farmer’s dying sentence.

So, the epilogue becomes a prologue… (This four part series eventually contains mature themes. Children check with your parents first.)

(To Trenton, I am sadly lacking in historical fact, and geographical location! It’s a start though, and I enjoyed it. How about a Part Five and the gracious return of a much appreciated gauntlet…)

Marriage Isn’t For You

I love this article on marriage. It really isn’t for you!

Seth Adam Smith

Having been married only a year and a half, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that marriage isn’t for me.

Now before you start making assumptions, keep reading.

I met my wife in high school when we were 15 years old. We were friends for ten years until…until we decided no longer wanted to be just friends. 🙂 I strongly recommend that best friends fall in love. Good times will be had by all.

Nevertheless, falling in love with my best friend did not prevent me from having certain fears and anxieties about getting married. The nearer Kim and I approached the decision to marry, the more I was filled with a paralyzing fear. Was I ready? Was I making the right choice? Was Kim the right person to marry? Would she make me happy?

Then, one fateful night, I shared these thoughts and concerns with my dad.

Perhaps each…

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Fearless: Sexual Assault Survivors

Well-written article!



Raped, abused, molested, assaulted. Every other day on this campus.

Grabbed, touched, hit, down. Not a person. Skirt going down, shirt coming up.

Led behind locked doors, poured another drink.

“Not sure if it counted as assault.”

Every. other. day.

Too much alcohol, too much cleavage, too much, too much, too much.

Not enough:

“Her eyes said she was lonely.”

“Her eyes said she wanted it.”

“He didn’t say no.”

“With the way she was dancing and what she was wearing, no doubt it was fine.”

(“It” being rape. “It” being assault. “It” being dehumanizing, objectifying, and degrading. “It” being the theft of life, security, identity, and rights. “It” being absolutely, inherently, unconditionally wrong. “It” being a crime.)

This week we honor the fearful and the fearless, the outspoken and the still voiceless—the hundreds of students on this campus who silently relive their stories of assault or rape…

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