Hans Andersen Brindekilde

Hans Andersen Brindekilde

Worn Out or Udlsidt

Aka Working Class

This picture was created to celebrate 100 years since the French revolution. I find myself fascinated by his ability to capture these raw moments in life. This particular picture uses earth tones I think it suggests how close we are to returning to the earth. And how work tends to drive us there much quicker than we are prepared for. The way she holds him it seems as if he’s someone close to her heart. Oh, how I can relate to her emotions here.

I’m wondering your opinions.

A Tidbit on Mindfulness

The feeling of self-righteousness crosses my mind before and/or after I tell myself I’m just not pretty enough anymore. At first thought, I do think that I could do it better than some other human out there and those thoughts are often exchanged with my insecurities. At times, I have to say to myself, “Okay, let’s think about this clearly. Is this really something I’d be capable of if I were in their situation?” That usually puts things in perspective for me. And then, with the insecurities I push myself to think something positive about my body or my abilities (which isn’t always easy). It’s about being in a constant state of awareness of my thoughts. I have to be, because the downward spiral is an easy slip. First, I’m content while listening to a talk show on NPR, not paying attention to my thoughts. Then I’m staring into the eyes of a Cheshire cat who’s asking me where I’d like to go. And then, I can’t remember where I even started. Or in other words, I’m no longer conscious. The real world full of daily struggles has slipped beneath me. To be mindful of my thoughts is both humbling and uplifting at the same time. It’s something that’s pretty important to me.

Please Exist

There is a reason why you’re here

It’s to read this poem and to realize this poem’s existence would cease without you

It would be silent

A dead silence with the night air stuck in a place that never really existed

It would lack the chaos of us

Trees would fall into oblivion

I would fall into oblivion.

Without you,

there’d be no us

there’d be no poetry

You are the poetry

-Saschia

Art

A place where rules can be bent and logic defied

where man is winged and birds speak

this is where I write from

and also from my heart

even when it seems meaningless

it is something

it is a piece of me

and I will continue to leave bread crumbs for myself

because for some reason I think I’ll need them

-Saschia

 

….More at Jayne.PressĀ Writing Like A Writer