Stories are at the center of everything. The most powerful and potentially debilitating being the ones inside our head. The stories we tell ourselves. The erosive stories we’ve been told. Stories formed from our experiences. That’s why it’s so vital we have access to and seek out alternative stories that give us strength and hope. Help us realise our full potential. Particularly our children and young people.
Not in a ‘Be wealthy and successful and famous’ way. But to be kind enough to ourselves that we can then go out into the world more securely and do good. Be a thriving, kind, compassionate and caring human being. But that starts from within.
The Army of Ink and all the characters are the carriers of stories full of strength, hope and possibility. They pitch an alternative to what we’re being told (and sold) through social media and popular culture.
They put a caring arm around our shoulder and keep us safe and strong. Encourage us to think and question what makes us who we are. Help us take back some control over our sense of self. Our lives. Our world. And our future …
Kindness makes a difference … and you may not receive anything in return for your kindness – but don’t let that stop you being kind. We all know how good it feels when we experience kindness. And how on a bad day, it can turn things around. Revive our faith in the world. And it’s not always obvious who’s struggling. And if you are, coming up against someone who is being unkind can feel like the last straw. And that straw isn’t always outwardly visible. So it’s just safer for everyone if we all just be kinder.
(Clunk & Jam Second Edition, 2019. Reposted from January, 2022)
This little soldier finally realised that being the fairest isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and looking up to stars can be dangerous – especially when they fall. And that ‘way up high’, ‘over the rainbow’ and ‘climbing the ladder’ are sometimes dangerous places to try and reach. And too far away to possibly get there on time.
Footnote: It’s such a competitive world. There’s a strong current drawing us up, up and away from who we are – or are comfortable and content being. Acceptance, popularity, success and fitting in, can feel so out of reach. It can feel impossible to meet the expectations of others. Until the question arises – what and who determines our worth? It’s also wise to question the notion that a sense of belonging exists somewhere outside ourselves. And that bigger and the better and more determines if we are – ‘enough’. It’s potentially a hothouse for discontent. Home? Home can be a building, a place, but it can also be a secure feeling within yourself.
‘All that’s good in me (self-portrait as son Luca)’. Original in colour.
(Reposted for World Dyslexia Awareness Day)
Kicked out of school at 13, Vincent is still barely able to read or write. After 20 years of isolation Vincent was diagnosed with dyslexia. “I can’t tell you the months of the year in order or the alphabet. I’ve tried to learn the times tables all of my life. I’ve accepted that it’s not going to happen and that’s OK. I can use a calculator and I’m getting along quite fine.”
“I was relieved that finally I knew I wasn’t stupid, there was just a processing problem in my brain which I could work with.”
Rose was very curious about the origin of sadness .
Rose welcomes all forms of feeling with a particular interest in ones of the socially unacceptable kind. She has pioneered many expeditions into the realms of fear, sadness, anger, disillusionment and horrible muddled states of mind with quite profound results and a significant degree of personal resolve. Long Live Rose.
Footnote: We’re often not encouraged to feel what are often termed, ‘negative’ emotions – like anger and sadness. This Rose seems to be suggesting that ‘to feel is to be real’. Perhaps to be able to personally progress and move actually requires the acceptance and riding out all emotions. Viewing them as valuable modes of transport to a better places rather than weakness and flaws in our character?
And the Little Engine said; “I think I can. I think I can.”
‘The Little Engine That Could’ is a folktale originating from 1906 used to teach children the value of optimism and hard work. The underlying theme is a stranded train unable to find an engine willing to take it on over the difficult terrain to its destination. Only the little blue engine is willing to try and, while repeating the ‘I think I can’ mantra, overcomes a seemingly impossible task.
A good story to ride on when things seem impossible. And a reminder of the importance of little blue engines in life.