Wednesday, December 28, 2022
Additional Jollity
Monday, December 26, 2022
Painting Whilst There's Nothing Between Me And The World But An Old Creaking Screen Door
I'm writing this blog post stolen from the wee hours of half past three in the morning.
Once upon a time, in my little one-horse town of Brooksville, you'd be capable of walking anywhere a house dwelt; walk right up to a porch, and there would be nothing but an unlocked old screen door keeping you from your neighbours. There were no detained doors or ceiled shut windows with heavily draped window treatments. So you knew ole' Ms Sady was frying chicken, or you'd smell freshly baked apple pie scents from the window sill following the dirt road.It also reminds me that I began pondering on Tasha Tudor and her artistry workspace as early as two weeks ago. She vowed by a large wooden table in front of a window in her kitchen which she said tale it reminded her of a tiny chipmunk's nest. As I was grappling with a 'feel' I was desperate to gain whilst painting illustrations for my little storybooks (most especially The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies), I felt such a lack of reasonable provocation. So I had to think of a solution. I began moving about tables and furnishings from one corner to the next in my folk's cottage, where I once had my artistry materials. I then moved things back and forth from Scarlette Rose to the main house, and in the midst of this, my temperamental frustration began to build. For an artist, environmental surroundings are of utmost significance. Then one day, I had the idea from my girlhood to pack a basket of my particulars and go outside and sit on the garden lawn to paint. That notion inspired me to place my painting desk right in front of the open double doors of Scarlette Rose cottage. I've never been more inspired to paint since that day, so I plod onward. Each morning the first thing in my diary is to see my beloved husband off to work. I perform my daily tidings and domesticated achievements and then stroll out to Scarlette Rose cottage for the day. I have been saving up for a big beautiful wooden cook stove (rather than the one currently in the house), and I also have my eyes peeled for a Victorian toilet. Initially, I was plotting to turn to a modern commode and build around it to feature an outhouse; however, upon hefty thinking, I would rather keep on with the cottage's appeal of the Victorian era.
Thursday, December 15, 2022
How A Landlocked Mermaid Cultivates The Virtues Of A Simpler Life, Properly Insulated From Trends And Fads
Wednesday, November 23, 2022
Carter's Chronicles And The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies
Look at my pretty Victorian tea box; isn't it swell? It arrived, and I am chuffed to bits. It is so beautiful. I am on the hunt for an original key to fit the lock, and I performed a bit of research to which I have also learned it had a small thin piece of brass on either side that was at some juncture yanked off, and it needs some new little knob replacements as well. So I have thought about making it a small episode for Patreon. I have many broadcast episodes planned, and I've posted my ideas on ye olde social media.
Wednesday, November 9, 2022
In Deep Thought With Mrs Carter And Her Pursuit for Happiness Among Skeptics
Thursday, October 27, 2022
A Victorian 1885 October At Sea
Good morning from lovely beautiful, and sunny Florida. Here's a sweet photo of my beach. There's a quiet little bench cradled between two stilt homes, and if one is mannerly and respectful, the homeowners will allow the resting upon to appreciate the waving sounds of bliss. The beach has always been a tonic for this ole bygone Weeki Wachee Springs mermaid. I love to beach comb also. I have collected shells for nearly all of my life. If you ever purchased one of my paintings, you'll remember I slipped a small shell wrapped up in a little brown painter's paper bundle.
What else have I been up to as of late? A little nesting, cleaning, organising and purging olde items such as clothing and things that are no longer serving the new version of me, playing in the garden, sketching ways to add onto the cottage, plotting the rose garden, drinking loads of tea and filling vases up with fresh cut flowers. Oh, and one of the most fun things Jeffrey and I love is to work in the garden together. This weekend we will be planting nine boxwood (in addition to the ones we've already added and the two topiaries) and about nine Viburnum (variety is suspensum) all along to cover the air conditioner on the side of my parent's home. I'll post some pictures when they're all planted.
I've been slowly transitioning my photos to a sepia tone or black and white on Instagram. It creates a more authentic aesthetic that I'm setting in motion with my business branding. I tend to love it; however, for those who adore colour, I also add colour photos to be admired when you slide the images.
Sunday, October 23, 2022
A Bit Of Writing Advice, The Process Of Writing And A Few Personal Stories From My Past
Tuesday, October 18, 2022
Darling, It's All In Your Head And My Epiphany For The Tale Of Sawyer Lamb
Firstly, dear hearts, allow me to embark and perform a bit of housekeeping by saying how appreciative I am for your friendships that I have engendered here on my blog. Of course, I am finely aware we have not met in person; however, I feel a sincere fondness and look upon you each as actual friends.
When my dear son (Sawyer) departed, and I went through my bereavement, I developed such loving friends who budded in intimacy here on this small snippet of the befangled interweb. When I had my conundrum with my British friend Tracy, I shared with a relation of my struggle of how, unfortunate; she chose to remove herself as a friend (which remains me unaware and befuddled as to why she unfriended me); they said to me, "who cares, Raquel? You don't know those folks reading your blog or on Instagram; good riddance." I beg to differ. I said, " Oh no, I feel very close to those on Instagram and who read my blog. I consider them my friends.
After several years of emotionally remaining on the hamster wheel, my daylight thoughts were no longer washing away my night thoughts. I felt I was losing my faculties, so I petitioned the universe to send an answer to assist me. If I were hindering my personal growth of success (pride goeth before the fall), I desired the solution. That exact intention is what I gave birth to a fortnight ago. I knew intuitively I was keeping myself from progressing, yet I did not know how to unlock it. I was not allowing for advancement, and I understood that perhaps my strategy must also pivot. This next portion of the story is about how the universe works. I've known and have loved Russ (the rap artist) for many years. (In fact, Sawyer and I loved his work. I remember Sawyer would study his strategies for success in the music industry.) However, I do not follow celebrities on my Instagram platform or spend too much time on the app. Yet, last week Instagram algorithm suggested a reel of Russ speaking about positivity and self-worth, so I clicked on his account and learned that he had in his highlight section a book he wrote. I immediately bought it because I knew it must be positive; I enjoy supporting independent artists. I read the book in less than 40 minutes (it's an easy but profound book) and then read it twice further. I highly recommend Russ's book if you want a little grit in your literary diet. It's All in Your Head by Russ, and a few lightbulb moments went off, and I instantly felt enlightened that was the answer to my earlier intention that I had sent out into the universe. I wish to share the mermaid secrets revealed, and you might benefit at some juncture down the lane.
In the last fortnight, I have been self-reflecting my view on my circumstances as an author/ artist, and why my success has not erupted to the degree, I foresee. It has not been for lack of enjoying the process or my work ethic. The work determined resilience never has nor will ever be my dilemma, so I knew it had to be something I wasn't recognising. I am endlessly in love with my craft, which will never change. However, I realised I was also aimless and reluctant to send Sawyer's book into the world. I began to notice I would feel quite vexed when I progressed to the book's completion and then would become highly fatigued. As I am known to do (ask any of my relations), I conducted internal self-concept work to uncover my hesitancy.
I then allowed the waves of spirit to guide me after making my intention with a deep desire to be a vessel for bringing forth good and healing into the world. This desire is my life purpose as an author and artist, and I know this truth deep within my core. I am kind-hearted to myself as I know I needed a soft place to land while grieving my son's death. However, I am so profoundly determined and fueled to create a legacy for my son and the world over I will not let anything prevent me from vast success to be a force for good which I desire to linger in this world long after my departure. If needs be, I will plough the door down with my success in authorship.
Jeffrey Shawn and I have benefited from living with my folks, and they, in return, also profited, although intuitively, I feel the cycle is dropping anchor to a close for Jeffrey and me. We will be on madcap adventures in the new year. It's not always best to reveal one's circumstances, yet, I am very accessible when it pertains to sharing mermaid secrets in the sand if I feel my conscious prompts me, which, let us admit, I'm one to be spurred on at frequency.
In all earnestness, I share the start, middle and (eventually the end) because not many folks discover a voyage reference in life for achieving their success. It's as though many cloak their methods in vaults which does no favour for those labouring away at their dreams. When someone does not have a reference raft to seize hold, it will require lengthier intervals. I feel it a travesty to withhold secrets to success. It's similar to many very acclaimed celebrities who possess vast platforms, and they do nothing with them to make the world a better place. I want to question their motives, as they seem to be self-serving and ultimately worthless if we're speaking long-term in leaving a footprint of expansion and progress in a positive way.
Allow me the opportunity to share a few particulars I discovered about myself after reading Russ's book for the third time. Before I got on, I felt inspired by how Russ used each chapter of his book with a song title, so in a fashionable way, as Austin Kleon would say of Steal Like an Artist; I think I will do similar but use my book titles for my self-help book coming out next year. In part two, Persistence, Pull the Trigger, Russ speaks on hesitation (move with purpose), and behind hesitancy is fear. Upon reading the line in the book, I felt somewhat gobsmacked, as I wouldn't have thought myself in possession of even an ounce of fear. After reading that text over three times, it popped off of the pages as if illumination in fluorescent light. I am transparent and truthful with myself and confidently aware when the truth is staring me square in the eyes. I then, at that moment, realised, indeed, I was fearful of releasing Sawyer's book into the world as I had such deep sentiments tethered to his beautiful book.I want it to help multitudes of people, and if that did not happen (it's all in my head), the prospect rendered me frozen in fear, and I would be gravely disappointed. I have grief, healing, pain, happiness, joy, and hope tied into his book. Each time I thought about releasing it, I felt loss and apprehension. In my head, It was as if I were letting go of my son, and that sentiment in my craw seemed unbearable to swallow. I know you can understand my sensations if you've ever lost a child. I also realised I have the personal capability to decide what definitions I am applying to each scenario in my life. Russ often states in his book; It's All in Your (my) Head. The first was my hesitation; the second bit of profundity is the journey and bounce back in Part three. I define success as knowing that my success is renewable; it's not a matter of IF my work is successful; it is a matter of WHEN it is successful. The details of how I will give rise to success are not my concern but the universe's. Among the many feathers in my cap is that I am a mindset coach, yet frequently when one is so into their vocation, they can miss the message for themselves. Often one cannot see the forest for the trees.
I can pinpoint every individual's difficulty I've ever worked with, but it is unknown when I attempt such declarations for myself. Zoë Kennedy told me when I read The Tale of Sawyer Lamb manuscript to her, my book helped her more than anything ever had, and that makes it all worth it; I've done my bit. The witty notion is that I did know that intellectually but perhaps not profoundly believe it at the time; nonetheless, today, with a fresh perspective, I do, at my core, know it without an ounce of doubt. The truth universally fixed in manifestation is to get out of our own way. Too often (and in a few distinct areas of my life), I have enormous resistance, and I can beat myself about the head by remaining in the way of the universe. If I can not let go and allow things, I am the one keeping myself from my dreams. Most often, folks push forward by trying to hammer a round peg into a square wooden hole.
To live in a state of urgency is something I know well. After losing Sawyer, I understood that nothing or anyone is definitive, and I do not take anything for granted. To remain untethered in how we feel things should evolve is a complicated matter for humans. One must remain faithful and know without a doubt that; what we are diligently toiling away at IS at hand. Reminding oneself it will occur today, and if not today, tomorrow. There is no weighing that course; it is a matter of time. I keep no room in my mind for maybe.
One bit of debilitation is when a person self-talks by repeating, "I am going to do so and so." The word "going to" will perpetually keep one's dreams outside of achievement. I console myself with waiting because I want so much for my book to help millions of folks. However, that won't happen if I sit on the story and do not release it. So today, I got out of my way. I can now pass on the temptations to put off and override to the quiet calm without further loss of time.
Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx
Friday, October 14, 2022
A Brilliant Manifesting Story And My Love Of Laura Ingalls Wilder
I had the entirety of a post of over three thousand words written for you, my dear lovely friends, and lost the totality. When I realised there wasn't a cat's chance in hell without claws of finding it, I must admit I got the morbs for a moment. However, I now feel sufficient, so let me get on with the post.
First, allow me to share a lovely manifesting story. I have thousands; however, it is very tricky to share all of them. Yet, I think you would like to hear the one about my daughter Zoë Kennedy. Zoë Kennedy rang me a week ago and asked if I would manifest for her. As a child, I took her to The Phantom of the Opera in Orlando, Florida, and she loved it so much it created an affinity for the broadway musical, and she eternally wished to go to the one in New York City. In February of 2023, the musical will end permanently, embarking on Zoë Kennedy to see it beforehand. Unfortunately, she had no financial means of getting opera tickets, airfare or lodgings. So, I said I would manifest for her, we hung up the phone, and I performed the visual technique before state akin to sleep I use from Neville Goddard.
I was a late bloomer growing up. However, when it concerns my love of Laura Ingall's Wilder, there is no question I have an immense fondness for her. As many of you know who've remained avid readers of my blog know, I grew up with two parents in the home. My father stayed in a constant state of slosh til I was eleven (No worries we’re very good now). My devoutly religious mum was a stay-at-home mother. I have no complaints; my mother sheltered me to the degree that she kept my siblings and me in church three times a week and two solid weeks when there were revivals and church activities. (Of course, as you know, I was Pentecostal until seventeen and later became a Mormon until I left theology altogether at forty-three.)
To try and fill in the backstory about Laura Ingalls Wilder, I'll have to take you back to when the fixation first began. I've spoken briefly in other posts about my neighbours from childhood that lived down the lane. They lived as close to the little house on the Prairie in real life, not by their desire to live old-fashioned. I know it was their poor mindset mentality, yet I never viewed them in that manner. I loved the sentiments when I'd feed (wood they cut themselves) Kate's 19th-century stove. They didn't have indoor plumbing; instead, they had an outhouse, gardens, a stream for water sources, fruit trees, and farm animals. I didn't particularly appreciate watching the slaughtering of the pigs or killing the chickens; however, knowing how food was obtained created newfound respect for it. I know it's a part of real life; however, i am a sentimental fool and wholly sensitive. As I would make my way to my neighbours nearly every day, I would also look forward to watching Little House on the Prairie. I was not only fascinated with the storylines, but I was more intrigued by intentionally focusing on the little house and barn, how they dressed and what everything looked like as a whole. I was enamoured with it, obsessed. I checked out the entire series of books, and as soon as I read through them, I continued that strategy over and over. I then began mimicking Laura; the schoolchildren thought I was mad, though I didn't care. I've always held a disposition of heaped delusional confidence.
I would surround myself as much as possible (mainly my clothing) by emulating that historical aspect through my junior high school days. i recall my friend Cindi (she was very modern, and the boys were quite fond of her) said to me often, "Raquel, you need a makeover. You're such a pretty girl, but you wear those old clothes so no one can see how attractive you are."
I never cared she said that; in junior high, however, I succumbed to the peer pressure when my cousin (who was much older than me) said I needed to get with the times and going into high school, I needed a fresh new look. I surrendered. Often surrendering occurs in youth because insecure youth want to fit in; I wasn't secure enough to stave off the new school and loads of teenagers, nor did I want to be rejected. I yielded. I would teleport into Laura Ingalls's ways for decades in and out, trying to return to that feeling when a little girl but never gaining much footing. I was constantly battling my true self and what I loved and felt comfortable with for many years.
I didn't have the luxury of having a mate that supported my fondness for nostalgia, olde timey ways, antiques or history. I was ridiculed for it if you want the truth. I look back and honestly feel it was a cloaked structure of vitriol. Mistreatment can be masked for lengthy periods when physically concealed; it's the subtle behind-closed doors of continuous verbal poking. In hindsight, I justified the abuse because he wasn't outright punching me; I assumed there was no abuse. I had seen my father abuse; that was no question. However, it took on a different appearance as an adult. When I began to question such matters, I repeatedly heard I was mentally ill, crazy and needed help. My family has a history of mental illness. That truth was weaponised against me. I am very far from mad.
My apologies; this is not a victimhood post, yet I wanted to catch you up with my past life and where I came from and to make you aware I am not ashamed. The truth sets a person free, and when one remains vulnerable, there are no defences. No defences, and no one ever will possess an advantage of leverage. I live by this truth well-fixed.
I have not an ounce of animosity towards those that have been unfortunately unhealthy to me; I am Indifferent, life is, and I know the universe has a karmic vindication debt of retribution. I believe greatly in the boomerang effect. Let's end this post with the inclination that on any given day, I wouldn't fancy them an invite to tea.You Might Enjoy
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