High Flying Wings

Last night's recording/songwriting was so fun I just had to record something else. This one is old (for me, new for you!) so it's a bit more together than most of the stuff I post. Still don't know a thing about actually recording though. :P


High Flying Wings

No more trouble O Lord
No more heavy load

And no disrespect but I'd like to collect
on that glory reward that's coming to to me:
A pair of high flying wings

I just don't fit these clothes
Shoes got to tight on me
And I don't like the road
It got too dark to see

And I don't mean to offend
But I'd like to contend
Been pushed down to long
I got to put on:
A pair of high flying wings

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That sang of glories to come
I once was lost (O how lost I was) but how profound
The shining road into the sun

And no disrespect but I'd like to collect
Don't mean to offend but I got to contend
Been pushed down to long
I need to put on:
A pair of high flying wings

And I'll fly away
(One glad morning when this life is gone)
When I die
Hallelujah, hallelujah bye and bye
I'll fly away

I will remain: A new song about loving in hard times

I wrote this tonight. As usual, it's rough and the recording is lousy mostly because I barely know how to do it... :) Still like it though.

I Will Remain

A love like this: heart broken all the time
Don't think I would have wanted this, had I known in time
Far before the first kiss, I knew you were mine
To bleed for you all my days, alive and dying

But I will remain, whatever the cost
I need this pain, couldn't stand the loss
Whatever it takes, for you my love
A heart that breaks, over a heart of rock

O it's more than I can do to change to change my ways
Be the woman of your desire and close the space
Between the things we don't do, what we never say
No kiss, no touch, no 'I love you', no long embrace

But I will remain, whatever the cost
I need this pain, can't stand the loss
Whatever it takes, for you my love
A heart that breaks, over a heart of rock

But I will remain, whatever the cost
I need this pain, couldn't stand the loss
I've lifted you high, I know I should not
My blood, the love, the rhythm of my broken heart
My blood, the love, the rhythm of my broken heart

A love like this: heart broken all the time
Don't think I would have wanted this, had I known in time
Far before the first kiss, I knew you were mine
To bleed for you all my days, alive and dying

Helliwell Park, Hornby Island

O the tumbling sea,

the broken rocky shore

Stole my heart from thee,

you’ll find my love no more

But upon high cliffs,

among yellow grassy weeds

Grind my bones to dust,

let the wind carry me

Watch me dance as I rise

over the land that I love

Leave the toil of man

and the ash of his greed

Bind my soul to those

who loved this land before

When I bleed life free

on the ocean shore.

-CJ

Superhero

Have you ever felt that there was something big inside of you that you could just barely contain? You know that you shouldn't let it out- you know that you'll be misunderstood and harshly judged, that this thing might even be destructive... shattering your orderly life as you know it; but in the end it escapes, rushing out with a flood of passion and tears that you're not sure you would want to hold back even if you could. That thing that is uniquely you- that thing that is your power, that should not and cannot be denied...

Consequently, the Hulk is my absolute favorite superhero of all time. Ever. Hands down, the best.

And Spiderman... I'd also like to stick to things. :)

Beautiful Expression

Someone told me the other day that the people who go truly, totally crazy, are actually the ones who deny themselves expression.

Hmm... let me try and say that another way.

Don't be afraid of anger, sadness, or bitterness. These creatures are all parts of you that are good. They are protectors of your true self, the beautiful you. Embrace your protectors and love them, explore the pain and listen to your anger.

And once your protectors don't feel like they have to work up such a tizzy to get you to pay attention, they back off, and the real you gets to come through.

So I've heard. I mean... there's sooo much more to it, but expression is a good start.

And it feels right.

And the point of this is to say, I'm not going to call myself crazy anymore. Maybe just beautiful.

That's right, I have a beautiful beautiful brain, full of exhausting, abstract, busy, distracted expression.

And maybe I can find some more balance with some more counseling. :P

But in the meantime...

LOOK!

I taught myself how to can! Hahahaha! You didn't see that one coming did you?

Hot pepper jelly, cilantro salsa, garden grape mint jelly, dill pickles, plum jam, peaches and blueberry jam.

:D I'm very proud.

This brain... so freaking ah...

Grrrr. Here's a picture of anger.

Now go make stuff, my darlings. It's good for you.

I'M going to bed.

Going Green

With the (Canadian) election coming up, I've been thinking a lot about the things that matter to me. I think it's safe to say that the key issues that swirl about in the media are Security, Economy, Human-rights and the Environment.

So, I know that I'm over-simplifying things but I've decided to put my environmental concerns at the top of the list. It seems to me that we can hardly work to have a stable, sustainable and environmentally aware society without first embracing some level of altruism. I mean, to survive, we have to share: water, power, food, air. When one suffers, we all start to feel the pinch. Yes, wealthier countries can afford to hoard and be selfish for a time, but in the end, this way only leads to destruction. Our resources are running out, and we need each other.

A caveat: I'm hardly a political science major, I'm just putting structure to the thoughts moving about in my busy busy brain.

So follow me... we go green. We somehow learn to diversify our resources more equally. We eat locally, and in season. We grow gardens, not lawns. Homes are built smaller and come standard with things like composting toilets, rainwater collection systems and solar panels.

We talk to our neigbours, we trade them cucumbers for chicken eggs... and share a glass of the awful wine we made last season, we embrace culture and learn skills from one another. And we make a shift, a change in our thinking. Rather than seeing all the ways we are different, we see first our shared humanity and our need for one another.

I think... this kind of community life would make it harder for extremism to take route.

I'm not talking about a return to the dark ages either. I think there's some pretty rad science out there, that given the chance, can help us change to live in a sustainable and comforable way.

Check these links to see what I mean
http://zerohouse.net/wordpress/
http://www.teslamotors.com/en_CA/powerwall

These are some capitalistic ideas I'd happily give dollars to.

I know there's about a billion holes in my dream, and so many awful gut wrenching 'what if's'. I am not isolated from the horrors of this world.

I just need to choose, to dream or despair. I need to believe that things can get better, not worse for my children. That I can affect positive change.

So I'm going to dream.
And learn canning. :P

 

Crazy got a Job!

Well, I wanted more structure, and it looks like I've got it. I've just joined the team at Hydrolife (http://www.myhydrolife.com/) as a freelance writer. I'm stoked, my muse is all excited and tingly and I like the idea of putting myself on the clock to bang out articles I really care about. Maybe a little bit of structure and deadline pressure will help me focus in the moments when I'm not writing and help me be a little more present for my daughters.

Yeah, this is going to be good, I can feel it.

Focus, purpose... a goal, and still not too much pressure. I love it.

Can't wait for the future... gotta go work.

Runaway Muse

I've been in transition. I've gone from 'puke my guts out I haven't had more than 2 hours of sleep in a row for almost 2 YEARS' to, 'I only had to wake up 3 times last night for the kids'.

What I'm saying is I'm getting slightly more sleep... and with it my creative energy is flowing back. I'm still aware of my limitations, so I made a deal with myself not to pressure my muse to preform in any way. That means no structure, no deadlines.

It's been wondrously fun. My muse has been running from on project to the next like a kid on her first day in preschool. I've been writing songs, sharpening my portraiture work, and teaching myself new curious skills like brewing jam and reupholstering furniture.

The jam turned out great. I want to burn my kitchen bar stools.

I'm also teetering on the brink of not always being the most patient, engaged mother. Nothing like having a little 1 year-old minx confetti-fy the foam padding you've just hot glued into place on the freaking kitchen bar stools for the 5th time... to make you want to want to snap. And yet-she's just trying to help.

And I just want to write that Governor Generals Award novel.

But my kids need me, they need me to be more than a just slave to my muse. And they need me to help them find theirs.

And my muse needs to cool her heels a bit...

I suspect this is a struggle I will have for my entire life (unbridled uninterrupted creativity versus the work and focus it requires to be an engaged mother/wife/friend). Balance, I think, is nothing more than delusion. The best I can hope for is to trapeze from one extreme to another.

So tonight... I'm going to kiss my babies goodnight, and ask my husband about his day.

And then I'm going to eat whipped cream and binge watch Netflix.

Follow the muse... wherever she may lead.

Sigh... it's official. My killer mermaid horror story is going literary. 

I really wanted killer mermaids,  I still think the idea is totally rad... but well,  as I've been writing the book the richness of the setting and the complexity of the characters has captured me more than the ridiculous mythology I was trying to spin. Ach weh! It's better this way...

In other news... I made this tonight. :p My muse has the most beautiful type of ADD. She's kind of hard to nail down.

Whistle in my Pocket

New song! First time ever playing it through...

Here's the words. :)

Setting the Bones: The Elevator Pitch

I'm reworking an old story... again. It's the first book I ever wrote, and it contains a type of raw magic that I think is captivating and worth a good face-lift. The trouble is that it sprawls. Four main characters, a wide roving fantasy world and 190,000 words... uh, think 600 pages or so.

Also, because it's the first book I ever wrote, I didn't know that I needed to lay down some foundational work. Ie: extensive world building, a timeline that makes sense and... a single sentence elevator pitch.

An elevator pitch reveals the strength and focus of your idea. If I can rope mine into one than it's worth the time it will take to untangle the rest of the mess.

Two of my other books have strong pitches:

How would you like to read a young adult western, in the tongue and cheek spirit of Huckleberry Finn?

Or maybe you want to read about killer mermaids attacking an isolated island community on the black rocky coast of BC, Canada.

So that's what I'm doing tonight. I'm hoping to weed out the kernel, the idea that lays at the heart of my first book that makes it an inspiring read.

190,000 words, one sentence...

...

Update:
Here it is so far. How would you like to read about:

A powerful spirit called the Dragon that endows those who allow it to possess them with the magical strength to fulfill any desire. Those possessed cannot be killed and will never die.

But the world just might.

dun dun dunnnnn...

now I've got to go wash dishes.

Chow!

That moment. That first love.

This is a post dedicated to my very first love. Because at fourteen, I truely loved you.

It didn't work out. :) But the moment, the spark, it still rings clear and true. It etched itself into my teenage brain in the sort of enduring way that i expect will survive through age and fading memory.

So wherever you are, I wish you joy and love and to say that

I remember fourteen-year-old you: beneath the apple tree, baggy cargo pants, loose white tee shirt, outback hat, strumming the guitar on your lap.

And that I've played guitar ever since.

:p

$70 a bottle. And worth it.

I think I might get a little drunk tonight, this wine is way too good. The kids are in bed and I've got space and the magic of a keyboard and a fantasy novel I'm writing. I'm going to drink and write about sex and magic and betrayal. And then... if I'm not too tired, I think I'll smoke. Nothing chases a really good bottle of wine like cherry tobacco.

Cabernet Sauvignon by Rustenberg, if you're wondering. :)

The price of doing art

Like the rising of the sea, you are my love, my love to me

Like an isle bare of green, without my love to comfort me

Broken rock, burned and black, you soothe the rough, you fill the lack

I shudder with the rising sea, covered by your love for me

Like the tether to a green broke mare, you are my love, my love to me

Warily I test the lead, captivated by mystery

Soft spoke words, an agile touch,

you my love, have persuaded me

I bind myself to your need, I’ll have no other master me

Like a tree by the stream, you are my love, my love to me

Caught by drought I burrow deep, I ache to cool my burning seed

Swift you come, but to tease, you drain through rock and then you leave

Me to wither and dream of spring,

with cracked bark and

an aching heart

I plead

oh my love,

my love

return to me

How can you put a price on art? Well, I just did. I just sold the copyright and the credit for writing that poem for $1.01.

I sold it through a website that pays writers dirt cheap for articles and web content. Someone commissioned a particular sort of love poem. I'm looking to increase my status as a writer on the site so I can charge more for the articles I write, so I accepted what I thought was an easy commission.

Writing an article on interior design is one thing... when I give art away a tiny little bit of myself goes with it. I always think that I can handle it. Do something fun and turn a quick buck. I always forget how it stings when I fall in love with the work. This one smarts a bit. :S

Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll reject it.

:)

Can't Shake This Old Tree

I've been playing guitar again, praise God: a subtle combination of a bit more sleep at night and the girls learning to play on their own.

I wrote this song somewhere between my first and second cup of coffee and roughed it out on video before I forgot. Very rough. But there's beauty in imperfection so I'm sharing it here. Enjoy!

In Christ Alone: My Heart's Homecoming

Seven years. This September it will be seven years of marriage. I've gone from dread-locked hippie living in a Volkswagen van to a white collar family in the suburbs. It's hard not to wonder about identity sometimes, about who I truly am.

My core has always been built on one thing- my love for Jesus and His love for me. I've always felt that every sinew, bone, every nerve ending and brain cell in my body was knit together with meaning, with purpose. Nothing can shake you when you have a core like that. Words don't cut. A sense of such great purpose banishes fear. After all, it's not about you at all. To live this life, serving and loving God first, with assurance of a perfect homecoming is a source of great peace.

Heh. And then I fell in love with a human man. Truly madly deeply. And I still am. I'm knit to him heart and soul. As a new bride I whispered my secret to Jesus in the dark: that while I still loved Jesus the same... I mean tried to love him... and if push really came to shove I was sure I'd choose Jesus in the end. I could no longer truthfully say that he was first in my heart.

By word, deed and action, I loved Jason more.

I wasn't too hard on myself. I knew that God would give me grace for this time. I also knew that God made marriage and love, and I hoped that in time I could find a little balance.

But there is a problem when your center shifts like that. The things Jason said and did started to matter too much. A careless word could cut me all too easily. I felt desperate for his approval. I tried to dress and talk to please him and I was never sure it was enough. I wanted to be the perfect wife in every way. For the first time in my life I started to worry over parts of my body I'd loved before. I was always trying to do it better, to be better. I even started to feel responsible for Jason's mood. If he was grumpy or short tempered, it was my responsibility to fix it.

Jason is a loving and kind husband, who adores me and serves me with everything he has. It really wasn't his fault. I'm sure he felt just as confused by the whole thing as I did. What's more, the harder I tried, the further I walked away from the person he first fell in love with.

Transformation started when Jason had to leave me and the two girls alone for six months to do some career retraining. I had to be the strong, capable and opinionated woman I know I am. I had to survive, and Jason depended on me to keep our family together and our life running, and to do it well.

With some help, from God, friends and family, I did.

I also started some counseling when Jason came back. It wasn't specifically for this issue but everything in our lives really is a big messy knot isn't it? It's all connected. Besides, I'm pretty sure any parent on this world who lives off of 4ish hours of sleep a night with two kids under three probably is close to some sort of  psychosis. Get help. I mean it. :P

Anyways... the real turning point came about a month ago. I was going through a box of keepsakes and I found a letter Jason had written to me while we were engaged. He wrote how he wanted to encourage me because he knew how unsure of things I could be. He also wrote about how he loved the way I listened to God's voice. He loved me for the passion I had and the love I had for God.

You know the difference between understanding something with your head and with your heart? I knew that me being madly in love with Jesus would only deepen the love in a marriage built upon that cornerstone. But reading that note, the knowledge sunk into my heart.

Seven years of marriage and yes, life is different now. We drive a SUV and have traded long boarding on summer nights for a bag of wine gums and a few episodes of BBC's 'Merlin' before we tuck in. Our love has changed from the brightness of popping sparks to the warm glow of an established coal bed. We are deep and steady.

And something else has changed.

My center, my core has shifted once again. I'm coming home to a place where God is my first love. I rise in the morning and seek time with Him. My feet are coming to rest on true solid ground again. His word is the only one that has the last say and He says He loves me. He says that I am crafted from head to toe, from heart to mind with exacting intention, purpose and destiny.

As are you.

With love,
Charity

A little bit of everything: Trying to do it all

If I was a superhero, I'd be the hulk. Even with these boney arms and knobby knees. I just feel as if there's so much inside of me bursting to get out. I'm being pulled in too many directions at once.

Take right now for instance. I hope to take my 1 year old and 3 year old to the water park in an hour or so. I really need to clean the kitchen, prep dinner and gather all the 'out in the hot sun bric-a-brac' that goes with it. But instead I'm writing. Because I love to write.

But I'm also itching to go downstairs and write out the chords to the new song I'm learning on my guitar.

Don't even get me started with the artwork I'd like to do.

I'm a stay at home mom. And like most single income families, my husband and I feel squeezed to make ends almost not meet. He's putting in a ton of overtime (leaving me to go crazy in toddler world) but it never seems to be enough.

The cool thing is, my many interests can actually generate income. So maybe I could help out on the money side of things... if only... I had a few more precious moments. A few more sweet hours everyday to create. To get truly lost in the ideas and worlds that spin around in my head all day.

But I must be mom first.

That means chopping carrot sticks and filling the crock-pot. Wiping noses and helping my 3 year-old find her princess tiara.

If only, If only... I had a few more hours. If only my creativity didn't tug me away from my kids. I need balance. I need to make this work. And somehow... I still need to sleep. Because nobody wants a cranky mommy.

Maybe I'll find the way. Maybe this blog will help... maybe...

Got to go!