Galathilion Earthenware

The past year has opened up new and incredible possibilities and ideas for me. An unleashing of a new creative flow. It started with a class, a pottery class. I found it through the Medicine Hat college and decided I needed a new and fresh outlet, so I signed up for the 9 week course, little knowing it would alter my way of thinking and change the course of the year. I love clay, the feeling of it between your fingers as you mould it into something new and sometimes unusual. The calming and relaxing effect it has. I learned much over the course of those 9 weeks, and after they were done, let this new skill lie dormant for the next several months. Then, as my creativity burst forth once more, along with my desire to continue pursuing those skills I already had, came the desire to continue with pottery and hone this new skill.

Thus, this past August I joined our local pottery club at the Cultural Centre. There I became surrounded by experienced potters and their plethora of casseroles, sets of bowls and mugs and other beautifully crafted pieces. Not being my best friend, the wheel was completely avoided at all cost and I decided to challenge myself with slab work and hand building. What could I create using this technique?

My friend Christy, brought me to a women in business conference, where I was inspired to start selling my pottery and paintings, to venture forth and write more books and turn a thought into reality. I said a little prayer, asking God to help me create in a way completely unique to what others made. To help me stand out with my work. To be different.

I began making trays and bowls, flat platters, wall hangings, and I even ventured forth and created a mug, all with hand-building. My dear friend Stephanie, had also given me the idea of pottery jewellery, so I ran with that, and they all turned out quite lovely. Then came this idea. Christmas was coming. Why not try to sell some of my pieces. Could it really be possible? Only veteran potters sell their wares, and I had been doing this a mere couple months. Who could possibly want my "out of the box" pieces? Then I remembered my prayer, and scared though I was, I took the next step. Hayden, who was also venturing out on a new limb of art, had decided to take part in the craft Co-Mingle and encouraged me to continue making pieces to sell. So I did. I aimed for the Medalta Heritage Christmas event which was a few weeks after the co-mingle. I got excited with my new wares and the night before the Medalta event, I excitedly went to the studio to unload my kiln after it's final firing. Sadness fell upon me at the sight of many of my pieces. Warped pieces were everywhere, much to my dismay. A valuable lesson learned....at an untimely time. Still, there were good pieces which had survived, so I decided to take what I could and fly with it.

Before the show dawned, I had to find a name for my new venture, and it had to be unique, catchy and ultimately...me. After searching and contemplating for many days, Galathilion Earthenware won my heart. It took me right up to the night before the show to settle on a name, as names are so important to me. This one I fell in love with, and was pleased to make my own.

The day of the show dawned, and we packed up our wares, Hayden's wood pieces, my pottery and my paintings, and off we went. The day was so wonderful, selling many pieces to many wonderful people. I realized, looking around, that my wares were completely unique to all the others, using a contemporary look. People seemed to like that and commented on it. My painting, also, were completely different, using bold colors and abstract ideas. All around, it was a great day, for us both.

I then started a facebook page, and due to this, have sold some more pieces, and then my mother so wonderfully has put up some of our art and my pottery at their restaurant, which as resulted in another 5 sales! To my wonder and amazement, this idea, planted in me by God, is beginning to take off! I'm running out of pieces and must once again begin inventing. I have more ideas in my head and am excited to see them come to reality.

Thus, Galathilion Earthenware is born, and though flying on still very young wings, wobbling through the air, has indeed taken flight and will, to my hope, only grow stronger. Feel free to check out my facebook page for more details and pictures.

Even in this crazy Christmas season, stop to hear the whisper and taste the sun.

till next time

 Our booth set up at Medalta

 Some of the necklaces

 Christmas Ornaments

Dream come true...

It started about 15 years ago, when I developed an immense love for the most beautiful instrument, the cello (pronounced chello). Now, I have been playing the piano for 21 years, so music is definitely a huge part of my life and for my birthday last year, my husband surprised me with a 1920's upright piano. It's beautiful. However, the cello has always been in my heart and has been my dream instrument to play. The rich notes of the strings sends chills up my spine.

Now, I say "dream" because the actuality of every owning a cello in this life was up there with becoming Queen. Not going to happen. this is not because you can't find cellos of all sizes at most music stores, but because of the cost factor. Cellos are an investment. A good beginner cello starts at about $1000 and can be upwards of over $80,000. Plus a bow, which can cost several hundred dollars for a good one, and then of course, the case (which is just as essential as the instrument itself). So you can see how this was more a "dream" then a believing I would one day own a cello. I figured, maybe down the road, once we have kids and they're grown up enough, I could rent a cello and learn. But that was the extent of that far away thought. And thus, a dream it remained.....that is, until about 3 weeks ago.

For whatever reasons, I still cannot figure out, I decided to google "used cellos" online. I have never in my life done such a thing, because a cello has never been in my budget. Well, google them I did and my findings brought me across the ever loved (for most) e-Bay. I started to look through what was listed, most seeming to be fairly cheap and good prices (not knowing names of brands or anything) coming in all sorts of colors and sizes. I've never been interested in a blue cello, so I quickly bypassed those and moved on. That's when my eyes caught something. A cello....for bid....by an antique dealer....currently sitting at $1.24. As you can imagine, my first thought was pure scepticism, but curiosity got the better of me, and I delved in to see what else I could learn of this cheap cello, which must be a hoax.

As it turned out, the dealer claimed it to be an estate find (someone died or lost their house), and this antique dealer believes that everyone should have the benefit to bid and the chance of a deal, so everything they post on e-Bay starts at $.99. No Reserve! The pictures of the cello made it look amazing and I talked to Hayden about it, and he said, for that price, you can't NOT bid on it. So I did! I had my limit of as high as I would bid. There was still 14 hours left and so I wasn't holding my breath on this one. I was bound not to be the only one to find this deal. So I said a little prayer, placed it in God's hand and said "Lord, do this....or something better". This prayer is something I've learned from my ladies Bible Study at The Link. They talked about believing that God has limitless resources and can do infinitely more then even we can possibly imagine. I may have faith for something, and God not only goes beyond what we think....but He goes beyond our beyond. So here I was, bidding on a cello, thinking, "ok, if I get this cello, God has definitely gone beyond even what I ever thought possible." But God didn't just want to go "beyond"....He wanted to go "BEYOND my beyond". So He did! And with that, the bid ended at 7:35am marking ME as the winner!!!! For a whopping total of $48.06 CND!!!! The cello also came with a hard case and a bow. God went beyond my beyond!

I was in such an excited daze I could hardly believe it!  My dream was coming true! So I made my payment and on it's way my cello came. The package arrived just last week, and with much excitement I opened the box and pink styrofoam chunks went everywhere! But there is was....my new baby! the bridge was taken off for shipping and the strings in disarray, but that is easily fixed.

The case. It has a few scuffs, but is in great condition

My new baby! Notice the stings are wonky as the bridge is not in place

The bow

I then phoned around to a few music stores in town, to see if anyone knew how to string and tune a cello and one music store does. He said he won't even charge me! How lovely!

I then decided to read up on cellos and make sure this was the right size for me. I set it up, and it's the perfect size for me! Then I read up on how to place the bridge and what to look for when buying a cello (something I didn't do before I actually bought a cello). I learned that some brands may look good, but are just cut out moulds that are badly glued and sound as good as rubber bands on a cigar box. There are specific specifications to making a proper cello (hence the high price). They must be hand crafted, not mould punched. Some cellos may have fancy German names as a cover, but are cheaply made, and not in Germany.

I began to look for all the specifications on my cello, hoping I didn't purchase a dud. Everything they said to look for was in order and in place. Next, I thought to google the brand on my cello. It's Cecilio. I was delighted to find that my cello is a good brand, was hand crafted and also to find a manual on how to work my cello. Thus, I was able to get my first sound out of the low C string. It was a thrilling moment.

This week I shall hopefully have the strings fixed and tuned, find a beginners book on learning the cello, and maybe even start playing around with it. I do have a lot going on this week with my art show coming up next Saturday, but one can never be too busy for a dream come true.

 My baby after I put the bridge in place

 All ready for the strings to be reattached and tuned!

always stop to Hear the Whisper, Taste the Sun

Till next time

Stop and Remember

Today is a day where, united, all from across this beautiful, vast Country, stop to think about and remember those who willingly fought on the front lines for our freedom. To remember those, who standing on those front lines, knew that each breath could be their last. This knowledge didn't halt them, didn't intimidate them, and thankfully didn't change their course of action. We've been told, our whole lives, that they made the ultimate sacrifice for us. Nothing could be truer. 1 John 3:26 says "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers." Our soldiers are more Christlike then many would admit. How many of you would do the same? I know I would have a hard time laying down my life, especially for people I didn't even know! What these soldiers did, and are still doing today, takes strength, courage, valiance and true bravery. We are ever grateful and know we own our freedom to those who fought, those who lost their lives, and those who still fight for us today. Those brave men and women. To you we deeply thank with all our hearts, and we honor you.

The following is an excerpt entitled "War", from my book "Hephzibah", a compilation of poems and writings. (if you would like more info on my book, please feel free to contact me) As you read, take time to remember those who fought for us, those who died for us, and those who are still fighting and dying, and for the freedom we enjoy because of their sacrifice.


                                                           WAR

"...We in North America really have no idea what it's like to have war in our backyard. To have the fear that in an instant, any instant, we could lose everything we know, or everyone we know....

I'm bringing this up because war is an ever present thing in our lives these days. We all seem to know at least someone who's involved, or been involved in years past. If we haven't lost someone to war, we know someone who has. It effects us all...

...So now, I will share with you the poem that God put on my heart to write, keeping in mind the amazing men and women who give up their lives, everyday, for our freedom. Our country is saved by their blood, just like our spirit is saved saved by Jesus' blood. I pray that this poem stirs up your heart, makes you think, and causes you to have a new respect for what others are doing for you.

A distant rumbling
The sirens begin
A panic arises
Airplanes coming in

I run for a shelter
Somewhere I can hide
A place of protection
Where others have cried

Bombs all around
The place in upheaval
Buildings come crashing
At this unleashing evil

Our boys go and fight
Though many are lost
Trying to save us
At a very dear cost

Gunfire now starting
It's here all around
Screams and loud shouting
You can feel in the ground

Tanks coming in
I have no where to run
We're completely surrounded
In the hot, blistering sun

A fear I've not known
Is here in this place
My heart is just pounding
As tears streak my face

Sons, fathers, husbands
Are out bravely fighting
To give us a freedom
From all that is frightening

As I lie here alone
Amidst gunfire and smoke
I struggle to breath
Beginning to choke

I worry so dearly
About family and friend
Out there now fighting
Possibly meeting their end

how would I live
If they were to die
My heart would just break
I'd lay down and cry

How would I ever
Move on without
That warm love embrace
That erases all doubt

The dust is now settling
The bullets have ceased
All is quiet and eerie
But the tension has eased

I fell all alone
As I cautiously move out
Nothing is stirring
It seems no ones about

The scene set before me
Is filled with dark pain
Death and Destruction
All this for our gain

I then start to search
With overbearing dread
For one living soldier
Among all the dead

I looked and I looked
From morning till night
Despair taking over
I prayed with my might

I was aimlessly wandering
In the hot, desert sand
When a young soldier found me
And offered his hand

I then fell asleep
In the safe, warm embrace
Of one brave, young soldier
With a drawn, dusty face

We then left that place
Of destruction and loss
But remember it quite vividly
With each new, white cross

I'll remember these days
And all that went on
It'll stay in my heart
When these days are gone

I'll remember the men
Who gave up their lives
Who left home and comfort
Their children and wives

Who never came home
But paid a great price
For this our new freedom
A great sacrifice

The only reason we have the freedom to hear the whisper and taste the sun and enjoy all things good in our beautiful country, is all owed to those who never again were able to do those very things.

Till next time
Aryn

Revenge of the Black Dress

Sunday dawned bright and clear, the promise of a grand and glorious day. 10/10/10, the day my friends, Ryan and Dawn, were destined to be married. Hayden and I had spent the previous evening preparing for Sunday evening's events, as we were honored with the task of MCing the reception. We arose on Sunday, having time to rest before we headed for church. Up until this point, I had had little time to think about an outfit for the wedding. Being a girl, I flipped through my wardrobe, but all I found were dresses I had worn many times previously. I wanted something fresh, something new, something that emulated sexy goodness. Thus, after church the idea sprung itself in my mind to do a quick browse at the mall. It couldn't hurt, as the wedding was not to commence until 3pm, so I had over 3 hours to potentially find something and still get ready for the day.

Off we went, also meeting our friend, Kjell, for lunch in the food court (a grand Thanksgiving lunch thanks to Edo :) ) I led Hayden straight to my favorite dress shop in Medicine Hat (actually, it's about one of the only dress shops in Medicine Hat), Bryan's. We entered and I started my quick, but thorough peruse of the stock. Nothing, nothing, nothing.....wait! There it was, a cute, sexy little number hanging on the wall. Black and silky. It had one shoulder strap and the fabric criss/crossed down the length of the dress, with small slivers of see-through mesh here and there. I checked the price tag and then decided to move on. Little was I to know that I should have stuck with this decision.

Having found nothing else to catch my eye, I admitted defeat and off we went to the food court to eat some delicious Japanese, during which I couldn't stop thinking about that little black dress. Hayden suggested that we quickly scout out some more stores, just to see, since we were there anyway, to which I agreed.
Store after store we went to, but to no avail. At this point, I just had to see what that little black dress looked like on, so I asked if I could just quickly try it on. Hayden thought it wasn't a bad idea, so off we went, back to Bryan's. I looked through the few that were hanging....last one...my size! Yes! Off I went, with a smile on my face, to try on this tasty little number. I looked and discovered there was no zipper or anyway to undo this dress. It was a tight pull on, but once on, I looked at myself and truly loved it! But as quickly as I realized I loved it, I realized it wasn't wedding appropriate. It hugged my form beautifully, but it wasn't to be so for this time. I think the dress must have been hurt by my decision to not take it home, and it was then that it decided to take it's revenge on me.

As much as it was a struggle to get the dress on, it was much more of a struggle to get it off! I almost got myself stuck! Instead of doing the sensible thing, calling Hayden into the change room to assist me, I struggled and insisted I would win over this dress! Alas! Freedom! The dress was off, my arms came down...only for me to feel intense pain and discover...I had dislocated my collar bone! No worries, I thought, this has happened to me many times before, I'll just push it up against the wall and pop it back in. But it didn't budge. No pop....just pain. I got dressed again, and went out to explain my ordeal to Hayden. We walked to the car, where he, for the first time, tried to pop my collar bone back in for me. Again....no avail. We drove home. Now, not only am I dress-less for the wedding, I can't make up my mind what other attire to wear, I'm in pain, and I'm running out of time to get ready! Oh the plans I had! I was going to do my hair up, but now I couldn't lift my arms without immense pain! This day, which started out so grand, was turning into something close to disastrous! But I wasn't about to let that black dress and my collar bone get the better of me. I found something to wear, gritted my teeth and did up my hair, took some drugs, and off we went to the wedding. This wasn't going to spoil my day! Through-out the day, I tried again and again to put it back, but nothing worked. I spent the rest of Sunday with my collar bone out of place.

The wedding was beautiful, the reception so fun! Hayden and I were received with laughter and joy and all was well. We went to bed that night, and I had thoughts of everything being all right in the morning. Boy was I wrong! I woke up to pain that had only increased during the night and upon waking up spoke the words "I think I need to go to Emerg". Hayden, being absolutely amazing, told me to get dressed and he would take me. Off we went, on Thanksgiving Monday at 8:30am to ER. I had no idea what to expect as I'd never had to go to the ER before. I signed in and had barely sat down when they called me back. How prompt! I was taken to a room where another family was already waiting on the other bed. The daughter had just had her wrist cast removed. The mother began talking with me and we soon discovered that this little girl went to the same school as my friends daughter, and not only did they know each other, but were in the same class and shared a locker together. A neat small world experience indeed.

Shortly after this, the Dr. arrived and was most gentle and kind. He was a bit surprised when I told him how I hurt myself. What could I expect! It was kind of funny. So, off I went for X-rays. He came back after and told me he had good news, nothing was broken and I could go dress shopping again! My collar bone had slid back into place at some point, unnoticed by me, but it was extremely inflamed. I got a prescription and ended up in a sling and off I went. It only took an hour and a half from arrival to departure. Not bad :)

Thus, I ended up a one armed woman for the next 3 days. I'm no longer in a sling, however, my collar bone is still not completely normal just yet. Hopefully soon :)

So I guess, the moral of the story is, do not be deceived by appearances of beauty, for disaster may await inside.

Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend with family and friends. Enjoy the sun and warmth while it lasts, as Winter lay just around the bend. Grab a Pumpkin Spice Latte', a good book, and always remember to take time to Hear the Whisper and Taste the Sun.

till next time.
Aryn

Autumn's Last Stand

I awoke to sun, sprinkling through my bedroom blinds. The dance of light on the walls was almost magical. I knew it would be good day. I love fall.

My morning started out like any other, getting ready for my day, eating and having some alone time. Then, the moment happened when I put my shoes on and opened my front door. There I was greeted with a brilliance of color. Yellow so bright, I almost needed sunglasses. It appeared that overnight the leaves on our trees had decided to conform with the season and finally turn. I was surrounded with yellow. It was absolutely breathtaking. The second thing I noticed, was a soothing warmth. The sun shone with force and the earth had risen to the occasion and warmed up. If it hadn't been for the color of the trees, one may have thought it a nice summer day. The warmth was a breath of fresh air....literally, after so many cool, wet days had besieged us. I revelled in the light and warmth, loving the fact that I had no need for a jacket at the end of September. The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet as I walked, was lovely. It gave way to a fragrance one can only experience in the moment and though I strive to explain it, will never fully succeed. It's the smell that reminds you of fresh baked apple pies, turkey, warm sweaters, and harvest. The sound of the leaves, as they rubbed against each other, fell to the ground, and were stepped upon, brought delight to the heart and fond childhood memories of jumping upon mounds of freshly raked leaves.

As the day wore on, the wind decided to come and play with the warmth. I was delighted, as it was not a biting cold wind, but a warm one that wrapped itself around you like a down blanket. But it was strong indeed. At points it would raise up a mighty arm and almost flatten anyone who stood in it's way, but at least when you fell...you would be warm.

By the time I was finished work, I had to fight to walk to my car because of the wind. This thing which had been friendly in the beginning, was fast becoming a foe. But it made me wonder, this fierce wind, what it would be like to soar upon it, to have it lift you up instead of knock you down. To work together for enjoyment, then fight against each other. I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. To go wherever you please, so sway and twirl, dive and rise. At this, my mind strayed to Mary Poppins, and I wondered how it would be if I opened my umbrella, held on tight, and rose from the ground on a grand adventure. Not to be a nanny, mind you, but to go somewhere, anywhere. This idea seemed more likely a way to fly then to, by chance, sprout wings, for such a thought may be seen as silly or even impossible. Though I'm sure it has happened a time or two in one of those places we only can wish to see. This is where my mind was as I drove home.

Later that evening, the sun graciously gave way to a clouded host, coming in to cool the now hot earth. As evening set in, rain poured down from the heavens. The sound always soothing with a gentle pit pat, pit pat. It's a most enjoyable noise to sit to whilst wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, reading a good book. But alas, work called my name, so I only enjoyed the sweet melody for a meagre time. By the end of my shift, the rains had ceased, but as I opened the Library door and stepped out, I was greeted with a most lovely aroma. The fresh, sweet smell of the combination of wet grass, wet leaves, and clean air, invaded my nostrils. It's an aroma that can sooth the soul, heal the mind, and relax the spirit. Oh that I could have stayed outside for hours, breathing in deeply this heavenly fragrance, a sample, I believe, of what is to come. But it was late, and sleep called my name.

Thus I fell asleep in the arms of my love, with these thoughts in my head. I knew that today was a blessing and days like these would soon give way to another long winter. But the lasting impression will always give hope that Winter will not endure forever, but will melt away to Spring once more.

So take these days as they come, for only God knows how much longer we shall have them. Enjoy them, love them, use them, and savour their sweetness.


Until next time,
remember to stop, hear the whisper and taste the sun.

Aryn

A brush to go...

This past Saturday was, by far, one of the best I have experienced in quite some time. I'll admit, I was a bit shocked when I first received a phone call asking if I would like to participate in a Worship Arts Summit. This is an event that I would partake in, normally, but never imagined that I would be asked to lead a session. Thus, Worship Painting became my priority, as I was to lead 2 sessions, and then paint on stage during the evening and final worship time. After the initial surprise, and a non-hesitant YES!, I hung up the phone and thought to myself "What have I just done?".

I love painting, but I haven't painted in quite some time, and painting amidst a worship service? I haven't done that since my dance and art school days in Kamloops...8 years ago. Needless to say, my nerves began to dance. A little. However, the thought of leading a session or two, where I would be free to share my heart and passion for the arts in worship with willing listeners, that I was quite excited about to my core.

I will admit, I had little prepared, which was the cause of some slight chaos in life, but live and learn, right? I will know much better for next time, as I do dearly hope there will be a next time. I arrived at the church and went to my room. We brought my stereo so as to listen to soothing music whilst painting. My goal...to allow for as much time to be creative as possible. The time dawned for the session to begin and I had 7 amazing individuals present. I had no idea what words to say, but had faith that God would speak through me. He did, after all, give this passion to me. After a short time of sharing my heart, the difference between worship painting and prophetic painting, relaying some of the inherent meanings of colors, and then urging everyone to have fun and let go....we played the music and began. What fun! Everyone has such unique imaginations. We had realism to abstract and everything inbetween. It was absolutely fantastic. The hour ended all too soon.

After lunch, which was hectic with a mad dash around town, I arrived back at the church for the second session, which was just as fun as the first. Again, more painting ensued. This time, however, I, myself, decided to paint something with more detail, instead of abstract like my first. The result was, in my eyes, quite rewarding.

Again, the hour was up far too quickly.

I then had a few hours to spare, some of which I wonderfully used up in the presence of dear friends, celebrating the coming union between an absolutely lovely couple. Then it was back to the church for the final service!

I arrived early, so as to set up and be prepared. I had no idea what picture I would paint, but trusted that God would paint through me. That He did. The music started and I began, turning my canvas black before me. The outcome, a picture of breakthrough bought by the Blood. Still the service went on, so another canvas was produced and I began a second painting. A beautiful sunset, set behind a skyline of mountains. This represented tranquility and beauty.

Thus the evening concluded and I had 4 new paintings to look back upon, one of which I gladly gave to a dear friend who so loved the one picture. I was glad it spoke to her.

The rebirthing of yet another passion has, I hope, stirred the desire to continue, and to introduce the arts in worship to my home church. The arts are foreign in the church, however, I do believe there is a time coming when the arts will lead the church in worship. To that day I look with great fondness.

Always stop to Hear the Whisper and Taste the Sun.
Till next time
Aryn

The Bake Escape!

Contrary to popular belief, I believe baking genetics don't always get passed down from generation to generation. Or rather, it's not instantaneous for everyone. Presto, I breathe, therefore I can bake with all the prowess of my mother. This art can be learned, like any other art, and like any other art, some are more sickeningly capable then others (like my brother Bryan). I do think there is a time in ones life, however, when the "light" may turn on when it comes to cooking, baking, sewing, or anything "motherly". But that could be a maternal switch, not necessarily a genetic one. I say this, for it always baffled me growing up that I was inept in the kitchen. I couldn't even boil water properly. It's not that I tried, I did, I just couldn't grasp it. This was a circumstance to gasp at, for my mother was the mother of all mothers when it came to cooking and baking. If you breathed it, she could bake it! And not just mediocre baking, it was melt in your mouth breads, exquisite cookies, delectable cakes and pies, well, you get the picture. It was highly sought after, quality food. So then, to grow up burning everything and just barely successfully making pancakes or macaroni, I hope you can see why I didn't believe genetics to be involved. Reading a recipe was like translating greek or solving a quantum mathematics equation. It just wasn't going to happen.

Then one day, like I mentioned before, the "light" came on. Not in my mothers kitchen, in my own. What, you may wonder, could have caused this light to flicker with life? Desire. I had absolutely no desire, ever before, to make anything. Then I met my husband. Desire to cook and bake for him overtook the lack of genetics or experience and I rolled up my sleeves and tried to create dishes that would melt in his mouth. I haven't always succeeded, mind you. There have been a few mishaps here and there, which he still smiles and consumes, though sometimes with great difficulty. But, when it's come to my baking, I have not gone wrong yet! I thought to start out small. Test the waters. Cookies were the way to go for a beginning, and what cookies they were! I couldn't believe it myself when I had seasoned, homemaker mothers taste my cookies and say they were the best they've ever had! I thought they were just being kind, teasing even. But when they went for cookie number two, three, four, then taking a plate home with them, I knew they were serious.

Baffled, I was, at this outcome. Never had food been something I excelled at before. This inspired me to venture forth and try out some other recipes. Peanut Butter Marshmellow Squares were next on the list. I still have room for improvement, but they were delicious non-the-less. Crisp followed. Now this has become my speciality. Peach-blueberry crisp. This crisp has become a staple for get-togethers and church functions and I always feel my face glow with enthusiasm and pride when the men rush for my dish and there is non left for the home-taking. This must be what it feels like to be a home-maker. I liked it.

Which brings me to my most recent affair. Hayden so wonderfully picked a few bags of apples from his mothers tree when we were last there and I was not about to allow these apples to rot away. Not on my watch. Not while I could do something about it. So, apple pie was the item of choice. My lovely friend Karlee was over and we decided to see what we could come up with. We scoured a few cook books looking for something delicious and eye catching. We settled on a recipe, ventured to the grocery store to pick up a few more items, and then buckled down to the task at hand.

Karlee peeled the apples while I cored and sliced them. Then, onto preparing the mixture. It smelt so good, I was already salivating at the thought of consumption. Apples mixed and ready, we set about getting the pan ready with dough. The mixture was then added and the dough top placed. Now to trim and edge and slice the top. This was the more tedious part, but I enjoyed every moment.

They looked perfect. Now to bake. The test of time would tell all. The smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and apples began wafting through my house, causing my taste buds to tingle with anticipation. By the end of the 50 minutes, out they came, golden brown and beautiful. We let them cool and then the time arrived to test this creation. Delicious! A wonderful success! I would have pat myself on the back, but for being preoccupied with consuming my pie.

Needless to say, after all of this, I wondered if others would like to taste my wares. After hearing a friend say her family loves pie and baking, she's just too busy to make it, I wondered if there is a desire in this city for home-baked goods. Currently I am without a job, enjoying my days filled with painting and pottery, however, could part of my days be filled with....baking? Perhaps help pay a bill or two in this limbo phase?

With that said, I now put forward a proposal to those in the Medicine Hat area. Though my list be small and limited at this time (though there is hope and potential for it to always be growing), I would consider baking orders for those who love to eat baking, but are just too busy to make it. With Thanksgiving and Christmas just around the corner, why not start filling the freezer for when company begins rolling in? I am currently in the process of putting together a price list, but my wares would consist of the following....

Deluxe Chocolate Chip Cookies
Ginger Snaps
Whipped Shortbread Cookies
Peach/Blueberry Crisp
Apple Pie
Peanut Butter Marshmellow Squares

In the meantime, take time to stop and smell the freshness of the air, enjoy the changing of the seasons, and always stop to hear the whisper and taste the sun.
Aryn

A Beginning....

A long time ago I learned the value of the written word. How words could present an idea, invoke deliberate thought, and most importantly, paint a picture that anyone could see in the fathoms of imagination. So, I began to write. Many ideas formulated themselves inside the whirling electricity of my brain, not all of which make coherent sense, but that is the beauty of creativity. You begin somewhere and move forward, learning and growing in the process. 

I journeyed with my arts, especially my writing. I self-published a book, Hephzibah, which is a mere compilation of writings and poems. I felt on top of the world, writing about the experiences of life one moment, and the fluttering leaves the next. It was pure delight. Nothing could have prepared me for what was about to come. 

How easy it is for something to be stripped away. No matter how much you may grasp at it, it's likened to grease on a frightened pig. You can't hold on, no matter how hard you try. The irony, is that words were stripped away.....with words. You don't even realize what has happened until one day you awaken to find that your passions are dead and all desire.....extinguished. This was me, a mere 3 weeks ago. I had seen for a long time that my passions were dying, slowly ebbing away to nothing. I tried to reignite them, but there was no drive, no spark....absolutely no desire at all. I had not written, painted, drawn, taken pictures, or anything, for almost a year and a half. How does the time run away? 

I needed a breakthrough. I needed a new beginning. I realized this when my husband, Hayden, turned to me one day and said "Honey, you need to create again. Your passions have died. It's time to do something again." That was my awakening, from what seemed a creative coma. I did need to restore that which was once a daily part of life for me. That which was life itself for me. I was born to create, thus, without creating, life felt meaningless. In this awakening, I then realized how long it had truly been. I wondered how it had died in the first place, when was the beginning of that dark road. I could not tell. Not then.

I was pondering this when a friend posted that he was hosting a poetry contest. I didn't care if I won, all I knew was that I needed to submit something, that day, right then and there. This poem* was to be the breaking off of the staunch, passionless life that had overtaken me. This poem was to put the journey i'd been on, into tangible words, all the while, still walking it in life. At the beginning of the poem, passions are still dead, in the poem and in life. By the end, however, a mere half hour later, light has shone through the cracks and broken the hold of lethargy and despair, in the poem and in my life. By the end, I felt free, I felt light, I felt new. I had a passion that was all aglow in my heart once more. I could hardly contain all the ideas that crowded and swarmed my mind. They had all been waiting, dormant, for so long, that they were eager to be free.

That evening I brought home my poem to show Hayden. I wanted it to be appreciated. Through accidental miscommunication on my part, Hayden, being a writer and artist himself, thought I wanted constructive criticism on my work, which he did. This struck a raw chord in my heart and I was unsure as to why I felt so hurt by this, knowing that Hayden had done nothing to invoke such a feeling in me. I needed to find the source so this would not repeat itself. I was driving home to visit my family that night. A good 4 hours in the car alone is always a fantastic time for praying, processing and talking through things out loud . It was there, in the confines of my little Hyundai, driving in the evening's final glow, along the long, flat stretch of Hwy 1, that I figured it out. My creativeness died due to situations I had been in where I was asked to create, which I did gladly, only to have everything I wrote or designed so arduously critiqued and changed, that by the end, it was not my creation anymore. It was in those times that I said, "What's the point of creating? It's only going to be changed anyway." Hence when my poem was critiqued, in a healthy, loving way, it felt the same. 

Searching and finding the source was my road to healing. I could forgive and forget and now, move on. A new season lay ahead of me, shining like the sun on the birth of a new day. It's time to dive deep into those things which are so alive in me. Since that poem, which made the top 10 and acquired me an honorable mention, I have shot a wedding (photography, not gun :D), started painting again, joined the pottery club and started this blog. It is my hope that I can continue to write this blog, not only to keep you up on life's happenings, and hopefully keep it entertaining in the telling, but to share my bits of  nonsensical ideas with you. I hope you will continue to follow me on my journey. 

*The Journey

Today is a day where passions fall dead

Where thought of creating is filled with a dread

Once upon a time the sky was the limit

Hope was abounding with nothing to dim it

When was the change that turned my day grey

Now a mountain before me to my utter dismay

Over its summit my path was to lead

To seek out my passions with a very great need

The strength to step up was difficult to find

I reached out a hand and was held from behind

Determined I set my face to the task

With one way to go and one voice to ask

“Help me to climb this mountain of dread

To not just roll over and stay in my bed.

Help me discover my passions anew

To find a new joy in all that I do.”

Step after step I began my great climb

Nearing the summit with a chill in my spine

What would I find when I reached the tall peak

Would it make my heart stop, would it be what I seek

How my heart longed to soar with desire

To shake off lethargy and be free of the mire

To have a light burning as it did long ago

To reach for the heavens, limitations forgo 

I stepped to the summit, breathed in the fresh air

Felt the wind on my face so gentle and fair

A light was then lit, so fierce in my eye

A new hope within, I felt I could cry

Into the valley of rest and refreshing

I stripped off old clothes and began a redressing

I caught a new dream as it dared to pass by

A passion within me, a feeling to fly

And fly then I did, that very same day

Reaching dream upon dream in a brand new way

Creativity restored, my gift given back

With God as my head I had nothing to lack

A smile then formed on my uplifted face

A sigh of contentment, an enveloping embrace

My joy was reborn, so true and so bright

Not even the sun, compared to it’s light

Wherever you go today, whatever you do, never stop creating. And always remember to stop, hear the whisper and taste the sun.

till next time