The Tao of Potter

Some say that our addiction to media (and technology) is divisive or designed to maintain a comatic state; it is what prevents us from living a 'whole' life, balanced and in harmony with ourselves and our surroundings. I would agree to some extent. However, when life (and media) is viewed through the lens of metaphor, it becomes a really useful healing tool.

Part Three - Resurrecting the Crone

The Mirror of Mortality?

Part One here | Part Two here

Why does ‘beauty’ even have to relate to age or be in the same sentence as it? Why would someone who successfully defies age, be hailed a star or be amazing and fabulous? If Mirren lived a ‘face-naked’ life, would she still be the new face of L'Oreal? 

Part Two - Resurrecting the Crone

Tea with Dad

I shuddered as horrified eyebrows raised themselves up to meet Hairline, who stared at him, angrily.

Resurrecting the Crone

Part One: The Decision (and how it met the business and the personal)

And with a gloomy sigh she uttered "Got to keep the Grey at bay" and my heart sank at the thought of another few decades of dying my hair. I had bumped into my Mum in town as she was rushing to make a hair appointment for yet another cut and colour.

That was early 2014 and became the day I vowed never again to dye my already Greying hair. I might have thought twice about this decision had I anticipated the deeply significant journey it would take me on.

Shadow Walker

This is a portrait of a woman named Sabrida Shing.
She is one of a few rare women to take on the task of becoming a Sadhu.
After her husband died, she grew her hair and wove his memory into it.

She creeps silent and deeply aware

Whispering through your shadows

Birdsong in the murky gloom

And you sense her presence

Does Personal Transformation Look Like a Mental Breakdown?

Artwork by Deviant Art

In our society where the paradigm is often to mimic 'same' or 'common denominator' behaviour, the transformation into personal authenticity may well look like a mental breakdown. 

Chapter of Life

And as she stared at him, feeling numb, her face showing nothing, one betraying tear slid down her cheek.  She vowed this would be the only tear she would shed for her man.  She looked down at the table as the tear detached itself from her beautifully made-up face and plopped heavily onto the back of her hand.  Wondering if he’d seen it and surveying the half eaten meal and in this moment it suddenly became important to her that this food was about to be wasted and she always hated to waste food, especially in this restaurant.  She normally gave all her scraps to her dog to ease her guilt!