He felt so burdened by the despicable acts of others. A cutting despair at not being able to get there on time to save the suffering souls, the ice from melting, trees from falling down around the corner.
Lost in the shadow of shame, cast by human kind, knowing all too well the dread awful things that come to the weak, the marginalised, the strong – and those who resist.
He carried this burden from morning into night, until one day he woke to a different tune. In the tune he caught himself feeling his own sadness, borne from the quest to save all that felt.
Cast in his own time, he could feel every aching inch of his broken self. The closeness to his own end. Where he surrendered to the grueling battle. Stopped in time to mend.
References: ‘Hope’ painting by George Frederic Watts, 1886. With just one remaining in her lyre – she played on. Little boat reference, the movie, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’, 2009. Original childrens picture book by Maurice Sendak, 1963. Find in Clunk & Jam book.
When the wild things contemplate eating Max, he tells them they can’t eat him because he’s a King. “But you’re so small.” They reply. “Small is good.” Explains Max. “My powers are able to slip right through the cracks.” “But what if the cracks are closed up?” Ask the wild things.
“Then I have a recracker which goes right through that.” “But what if they have some sort of material that recrackers can’t get through?” “Then I have a double recracker that can get through anything in this whole universe and that’s the end. And there’s nothing more powerful than that – ever. Period.”
When Max tells the wild things he can make everything right. They ask, “What about loneliness? Will you keep out all the sadness?” Max says, “I have a sadness shield, that keeps out all the sadness. It’s big enough for all of us.”
( ‘Clunk & Jam Book, 2019. Film, ‘Where The Wild Things Are’, 2009. Original story and book by Maurice Sendak, 1963. Reposted from 2011).
‘Robin Small wandered wide in avoidance of – all things hard to touch.’
(Reposted from 9.10.2018)
Footnote: The initial thread of Robin’s story ‘avoidance of all things hard to touch’, might elude to the trouble he has getting close, or being close with others. Touching – or being touched. Feeling the pain of loss or disappointment. His avoidance of feeling things at all? Maybe Robin Small finds it difficult to connect with things deep within himself? But maybe he’s also contemplating taking a small step towards trusting again – taking a risk?
You’d never be trodden on again. You’d be able to see exactly what was coming. Where you were going. And always have a safe place to fly up, up and away from it all.
Footnote: Sometimes imagining we have super powers or a super power watching over us can get us through a tough spot (Mary Poppins ‘spit, spot’ comes to mind). Wings on feet? Astro Boy? Maybe it leaves her hands free? To do what? Take the world off her shoulders perhaps? But there’s no world in the drawing? Maybe others can’t see how much the weight of the world affects her – she feels it alone. Or could it be a muscle man (woman) pose? Flexing her muscles and being strong? Or it could be a shrug – ‘I don’t know, don’t ask me? I don’t have all the answers.’ And with wings on her feet she’s forever safe from falling – being hurt. Up, up and away is such a comforting thought when things get tough.
Amelia Bloom understands how broken everything is, yet she remains invested in her dreaming, not only for herself, but for everyone else.
Amelia Bloom’s French flavoured imagination paints a beautiful picture of a world full of hope and peace. She gently reminds us of the magic of dreaming and its ability to create a better world – both real, and imagined.
Amelia Bloom dreamed every street corner had a worry bank so everyone felt safe.
Amelia Bloom dreamed flowers grew in clouds and their petals flew to all the dark corners of the world.
It began with a Black Dog who, much like the fabled little black duck – was different.
Unaccepted for his difference he sought refuge in dark places.
In time, the darkness revealed others sheltering in the shadows that drew reflections of himself.
In the belonging, he gained the strength to raise a hand above the nodding and question why suffering souls too often go unheard.
Burdened by the silence and neglect, he began to bark loudly despite those troubled by the noise.
And when backs were turned to bury all that had been found – Black Dog continued digging for all that had been lost.
Hope grew from every hand that gave purely for the giving. And so, despite colour and size and the absence of wealth, and with the friends that followed…
…Black Dog claimed a space for those who may never fit, in a world too big for most. Those who seek to move beyond minds too small.
Those who seek freedom from the relentless pace of a world spinning way too fast to catch.
Now, as the world continues to turn away from the darkness in favour of, “Have a nice days”‘ and all that’s shiny and new…
…Black Dog continues to hold a place for all that’s lost and found .
