In terms of my self-development, I strive for the highest and even if I underachieve, I will still be higher than when I started.
I find self-development, for me, is not a matter of a destination to accomplishment, but more an exciting journey, where discovery is the order of every step. With each new discovery, there is a direction to new creativity within me. On this journey are the times when I create best.
I love creating, it is a powerful gift and deeply satisfying to my soul. My creativity never disappoints me, it springs forth from me like a gentle brook of crystal clear, cool water flowing down a hillside.
You ask, "Where can I find this creativity, I do not seem to have the gift of which you are talking?" It is waiting for you in the treasure box that's kept in your heart; and on a still moonlit night that shines through your bedroom window, if you look carefully, at the palm of your hand, you will find the key to the box. Open it and take your creative gift - its there, just for you.
If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others, writings are meant for people, not for dormant files onour computers, and very often when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.
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If you have just joined us, then you need to read previous editions in the series, you will find these here:
With each publication in this series, I was giving you assignments to do and asked you to return these to me for editing. This way you sent in your effort, which I called a ‘submission’ and I send back a ‘correction’ to you. In doing this, you ended up with a comparison.
I am now going to change the system. In future you will not send in submissions, but I will publish my version of the assignment a week later and that way you can compare what you have done with what I have written.
I was all of twenty years old and in love. We met at a Fabric Designers workshop and the moment my eyes gazed into hers, I knew I had reached heaven on earth.
She invited me to join her for a weekend getaway in the mountains, with her Fabric Designers Group.
At nineteen she was the youngest member, not outgoing, but with a warm inviting personality and quick affinity, which drew old and young to her. Her soft British accent with its quaint idiosyncrasies and expressions gave her added magnetism. She was pretty with full curly hair down to her shoulders and whilst men happily looked her way (too frequently for my liking) she booked no shallow talk nor nonsense. I saw beauty, warmth and strength wholly in one precious woman.
After all the joviality of meeting the group, we went off to our rooms. Amid romantic imaginings I drifted off to sleep. At about 2 am I woke up and could not go back to sleep. Dressing up warmly, (it was cool in the mountains.) decided to go for a walk.
Stepping out the front door and closing it as quietly as I could, I looked up to see a figure standing on the lawn – it was her! “Hello,” she whispered, “Trouble sleeping?” she continued. “Yes,” I stuttered, overwhelmed at seeing her.
“Follow me.” She instructed. Taking my hand, she led me to the bottom of the garden. Stopping, she turned and spoke softly into my ear. “Lie down and look up into the heavens.” Did I detect a huskiness in her voice?
We lay down, side by side and once again she took my hand. We gazed upwards. “Here in the mountains, in winter especially, you will view the universe with new eyes; this is because there is no unnatural light, as in the city.” She whispered.
We gazed at a most startlingly lucid vista of the firmament, with paling moon, stars of every shape and size, bright constellations everywhere. A shooting star flashed across the magnificent scene.
“Oh! She sighed, how resplendent, Isn’t it…? Everything so limitless, brilliant: the stars glittering, like diamonds in a transcendent pool. “
Deep within me, were strong feelings that sensed the pulsing of her hand as it held mine, the warm touch of her body alongside me. I longed to tell her of the resplendent heaven inside my heart, beating with an excitement, I had not experienced before. I longed to share my feelings with her but felt afraid to do so. “Maybe it was too early in our meeting, for me to open my heart so.” I reasoned.
“Are you enjoying this experience?” She turned to me.
“I am in a resplendent heaven, oh yes, I am. I could gaze at this magnificent scene forever” I responded in a voice too choked for my liking, as it fought its way past my impassioned emotion and did not allow me to add, “with you, beautiful lady”.
If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others, Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers and very often when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.
On a fayre day, that bold knight, Sir Peter James, did journey to the lands end in his trusty carriage, the Bee-Em-Thrubble-Ewe, with six trusty steeds at the fore.
He rode with his layde, The Layde Scarlett, Princess of all Albertinshire.
That bold knight did leane over to his layde as she slumbered to the rythyme of the swayeing carriage. He whispered to her eayr, ‘My Layde, my love for thee is indeed greatere that that of my lyfe, sleep on and rest thy soul”.