She arrived with a carpet bag and a dream …

This ink arrived around the  time of making bags to fill with books to gift to young people.   And I do have a thing for the Mary Poppin’s movie/story too.   But I also think, to survive, you have to have a bag of sorts (imaginary or real) to carry with you.  Something to keep filling with things collected along the way that help you get through the tough times and tricky moments.  Serve to map a path forward.  Contain what we’ve achieved so far.  Store things that support us to be strong, independently minded individuals – to survive and create positive changes in our lives.   Clunk and Jam notes even?  Or imagine it’s a bottomless bag (like Mary Poppin’s), forever sprouting new treats, treasures – ideas and directions.   And the beauty of this drawing (of all art and drawing), is that it allows others to have their own perception of the image – invites their own story to the page.  So please pass her on, no doubt there’s plenty of stories in that old carpet bag - awaiting an ink pen or an old typewriter to help them spill …. pop back soon for more art and stories…

This one sings like an anthem for the Army of Ink.

Going Nowhere—sometimes I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

 This little soldier was relatively determined there must be a better place but she’d have to put all these constant distractions out of sight and mind before she could possibly arrive at a decision.   As she began the packing away process, a thought occurred that helped her stop for longer than intended…perhaps by trying to do everything, she could very well end up doing nothing of great significance at all.   Or worse still, she’d just be tugged and pulled in all sorts of directions—other than her own.   Case closed, she set foot and mind on a moth ball free path, steady as she goes—her own way …

Click typewriter for Clunk & Jam note.   And please pass the ink on …

Me Jane .         Dangling in a moment of vulnerability, out of her jungle mind came a thought…3 thoughts actually…Could she make it without the BOy?  Did she have to take such a wild and dangerously dependent leap—after all?  And was it really that difficult and frightening to just let go?

This swinging ink has layer upon layer of meaning to sit and wonder about—like…. Is she really swinging up high or is this a trick?  Is her foot in fact, firmly planted on the ground?  Is she clinging for her life at the mercy of the rope (or the BOy), or has she taken a firm grip to put a stop all this swinging business?   And what is this swinging business about anyway?  Which way is she going?  Back?  Forward?  Nowhere right now?  Or has she finally landed in her very own spot?   Is the rope attached?  Is it all about to uncoil leaving her in a heap?   Or is it going to lift her up, whoosh her away from whatever it is she’s so afraid of right now?  To be continued no doubt ….  Click on the typewriter for your print version and please pass her on ….

Put Your Dress Down .    Sometimes I feel bad even when I’m not doing bad things.   So I gave it a name… ‘The Following Bad’ – and wrote a good story…. Shame on you, and you, and you.  Hiding truth.   Not feeling lies.  I lifted up - they put me down.   I got gobbled up by cracks in frowns.  Now I wear no silky touch.   Or dish out shouts, it hurts too much.   Duck for cover or run and hide.  I bare nothing more than those who lied.  Play in pages nice to look.  Connect up pieces they once took.    And when I spin maybe they’ll see.  But it’s not for them.   I dance for me.    

Pass it on because there are alot of people suffering in silence out there…

Click typewriter for your Clunk & Jam note to print.

It’s been a few years now since I spilt the beans of abuse in my book, ‘In My Room’.   I naively thought I could tell my truth and it would be received with the empathy and sensitivity by all.  But there has been much fall out.  It has taken much effort and energy to remain firmly in my truth and not allow the rejection of it, the adverse reaction to it, re-cloak me in the shame I’d lifted through the telling.   Undo my conscious act of casting off lies and oppression to reveal those who abuse and live in denial of their actions.   I remain loyal to my story.  Loyal to myself.   It’s no easy task.   And it’s the Army of Ink troops that give me the strength and defiance to soldier on (and the many people who have appreciated and supported me in telling the truth – and continue to) …

Sometimes I cry, and I cry, and I cry….

She imagined her tears as butterflies on strings, knowing that to truly transform the sad, she had to rise up on her own steam and snip them forever free.  Not that they went away forever.   Just so they could gently move and hover –  not spin and crush.

  Click typewriter for Clunk & Jam note.      And… not sure if happy is quite the opposite of sad but there’s a funny one on the way – so stay tuned …

Forever waiting.

Every time she thought she’d nearly got there, down came disappointment.    All this waiting and wanting was getting her nowhere.    So she decided to break the chains of waiting with a fierce determination to be a more grown up, independently mobile, self directed and time saving type.    And type she did ….. click on the typewriter to receive such a note…

Some things just had to go.

Dump, dump, dump she did, with all the self defeating, nasty little habits she’d hoarded over time.  It was time to take the hanky firmly by a thread and with pedal planted nicely under foot, claim herself a hanky free place where she would no longer need to rely on being picked.  She also trashed the motion of skipping in dizzy circles to get to where she ‘d convinced herself she needed to be.  Now, a short distance beyond the clean-up, she sits to catch the slowing of her breath – reviving her tired little shoes and socks.  And puff went the world.

It was that childhood song, ‘Ring-a ring-a-rosie, a pocket full of posie a tissue, a tissue, we all fall down’  that welcomed this ink to the page.  And it got me wondering … if you keep falling into a hole, while you’re down there might be as good a place as any to devise a plan of how to avoid falling back in.  The other picture in my head was that game (I can’t remember what it’s called, so if you can, let me know) where everyone sits around in a cirlce with eyes shut and someone skips around the outside of the cirlce and drops a hanky behind their person of choice.  Then they get to do the skipping and picking.   I always hated those ‘picking’ games – ’cause I never got picked.  So anyway, all this led to me asking myself …. “What’s good about me and my life?  What has to go?”   You might like to ask yourself that same question – it’s quite a liberating process.   And be prepared for the anxiety spikes that often accompany change – try riding them out.  So pedal to the metal as they say.  Rubbish out, good stuff in …..

Keeping to myself.

Parties, invitations and anything new sent her belly butterflies into an awful spin – as did the thought of hurting someone else’s feelings.  So she came to the frightful conclusion that she’d be better off alone – but there was a creepy uncertainty about this great big decision.  At that horribly nervous moment, a wise thought arrived … maybe all that was required was some time and peaceful quiet to think again, and again, and again about who she let in – and where and when she went.    Pass it on – or keep it all to yourself…

Click on typewriter to view and print the note.

An idea for you….frame your favourite Clunk & Jam notes.  You can get these box frames from IKEA for about $10 or a bit less from memory?