About "ME": Continuing on this road to self-discovery. If you desire to learn about the purple birds, or maybe do not know the story of orange, you may wish to immerse yourself for a few moments.

"They say I wear my heart on my sleeve. Maybe you've noticed that too.

Forty-five years and six months ago, when I was but a child of three and a half years I was found to have sugar in my blood, too much.

Treatment for diabetes involved diet, and daily injections of insulin.
Those syringes needed boiling regularly and the needles were kind of fat. They only
needed to go under the skin, but where do you poke a skinny little runt? They also needed boiling. Memorable was the idea of them requiring sharpening.

Time passed. Needles became disposable. The need for injections became just a typical part of life, mine.

What affected me more were the lines and lines of orange. The sugars needed testing. That many years ago the only testing available in the home was for sugar in the urine. What I remember are lines and lines of orange. Rarely did a beautiful blue or serene green appear.
Inadequate. That's what those lines of orange, in the book where we recorded results, meant to me.

Inadequate, inadequate, inadequate. I think I was always trying to achieve ~ probably perfection. I felt so much as a child, looking for reassurance, looking for someone to tell me it was alright. It was alright that my tests were frequently orange. We would just keep trying.

And so I seek imperfection now. I realize how unhealthy it is to always be seeking perfection. I realize I need to laugh more, be more childlike in a playful way, and "dance my pants off" occasionally. I need to dream more and worry less, perhaps think less, maybe just let myself "be".

As I have grown to have more an appreciation for art, for beauty, I have come to learn to seek more orange. I love colour and have learnt that orange frequently represents joy. And so I seek more joy, more orange, more imperfection.


Sometimes the brick walls get in the way. Do you know brick walls? They are not something visible, not something physical other than the negative way they may affect your well being. Brick walls for me are in my mind. I think you understand. I build them to protect myself but in so doing I shut myself out ~ from feelings, from joy, probably from more love (maybe especially of myself), most certainly from others recognizing my true self. They may only see this tiny slice of me, a tiny slice which is mostly about pretending, but is probably quite un-natural.

Now I have been trying to break through those walls, those barriers within myself. I have come to appreciate art and music more. I have tried to allow myself to be more playful, allow myself to not let the mistakes matter. I have tried to allow the breeze, the presence of "spirit" in the wind, blow through me at any moment. I have tried to allow myself to relax, take time to close my eyes and float on the breeze. That is when the purple starts floating through my brain, sometimes as birds, occasionally as waves. The spirit just seems to want to allow me to be free to be creative. That is when I have done some of my most prolific writing. That is when I hope to do some of my most fabulous pieces of art.

That is when I may see miracles happening and I will know for certain that I am not an ugly duckling, I never was, and I do not need anyone else to remind me."

I have not mentioned angels at all in this piece. I most certainly believe in angels. I know for certain that if you are to recognize them through me, through yourself, about you or about me, it will happen by no intentional doing on my part.

Please forgive the quality of the image. I am tired, the computer & scanner have not been working and I just did not feel like doing a photo tonight. Maybe another tiny bit of imperfection ~ that's good.