Contemplative Musician, Soundwork Practitioner, Music Facilitator & Mixed Media Artist
Such subtle variations in purples in this dying tulip. It was a bright purple in full bloom. Now I appreciate it because of its ability to still offer beauty even in its decomposing. How does my aging life offer beauty? It's in the aging that the nuances appear. That the in-your-face boldness of youth and... Continue Reading →
I did something today which some purists might consider anathema. I spilt up a set of Minton fine bone china, Windermere pattern. And to make myself feel even more guilty it was bequeathed to me by my dear aunt. To be truthful it wasn't a full set with serving dishes, teapot and all, but a... Continue Reading →
So what do you do with all those old photographs? Our old Edwardian house had a large entranceway. So instead of being tucked away in old albums the walls of our foyer got decked out in the black and white photos of our lineage. Everyday I looked at one or more of these pictures as... Continue Reading →
I worked as a professional organizer for a time. The strangest job I ever did for a client takes some explanation. My client was an excellent photographer, travelling all over the world taking beautiful pictures. Both her parents had been safari hunters in Africa over 50 years ago. She inherited her parent's house. In it... Continue Reading →
A very small piece of my embroidery is included in this amazing project by Yana Schnitzler. "Tales of a Phoenix: The Letting Go Project" is a performative work that harnesses the power of ritual to bring women together from across the world in a unified release of old patterns that no longer serve our personal... Continue Reading →
Some people chose a word for the year as a practise at New Year's. My friend asked everyone to chose a verb. I baulked at the idea this year because I'm prone to worry that I won't get it right. But this is the type of spiritual practise which can ignite rather than restrict. I... Continue Reading →
We have a tradition in my father's family of having special food at Christmastide. They hailed from Nottinghamshire, Britain. A bowl of hot boiled wheat porridge called frumenty was made only for Christmas time. This ancient pottage hails from the middle ages and my version bears some resemblance to the medieval frumente. My Dad always... Continue Reading →
by Mary Ann Pocock (1957-2006) just as there is pain with loss so we find it in the search for the very celebrations that come by chance from our grieving 'til one is inextricably linked to the other and we cannot tell where the dying begins and the living ends so the very things which... Continue Reading →
Sometimes I just sit on a park bench to read instead of reading in my living room. I watch squirrels, listen to birds and the breeze in the leaves, listen to people walking and talking, see dogs of all shapes and sizes. It’s solitude within the context of community. The geese have moved up the... Continue Reading →
I go to cemeteries a lotIt doesn’t matter where It’s not about the who(or mostly not) It’s quietIt’s reverent Squirrels aboundDogs exercise People walk and talk I mostly come to listenTo the birdsTo the breezeTo the voices of ancestorsTheir inscriptions, storiesTheir bones, a witnessTheir songs, a whisperTheir presence a comfort Places set apart to remember So... Continue Reading →
Drop the bucket into the well of grief again?Is the water table lower than the last time?The bucket has to go deeper to find the water it seems. Each grief attack seems to require more effort. Yet now there is more time between trips to the well perhaps the water filling my bucket contains more... Continue Reading →
Today I was rereading and putting away the Christmas cards that I received this season. My mind immediately turns to childhood, scissors and paper cutting which I loved to do. Growing up in a Christian ‘mission-minded’ household we were encouraged to never waste anything. This included harvesting the prettiest pictures from our old Christmas cards... Continue Reading →
Updates on the Woven Tree.
The reason my maternal grandparents built their cottage in 1938 in South Beach, Gimli, Manitoba was because my grandmother Winifred's older brother Percy Harris built there first. So why did her brother build a cottage in Gimli sometime before 1912? Lake Winnipeg, the world's eleventh largest freshwater lake, was a short trip away from the... Continue Reading →
Evans Store on Hansson Ave, at the corner of Anna, was a fixture to every kid in South Beach, Gimli. Forever. Evans Store Building in 2017. Put out to pasture behind 15 Hansson Avenue, Gimli. My first memory of spending money was at Evans Store. My grandpa Percy would give me a nickel or dime and... Continue Reading →
I only had to look up. They were there all along. The ripe and ripening fruit. Yummy morsels. Dark purple. I go out and harvest my breakfast from my own bushes, nay trees now. When did the fruit grow out of reach? How can I harvest? The tree, if carefully handled, will bend. Gracefully bowing... Continue Reading →
It all started at a used book sale when I saw a pile of Reader's Digest Condensed Books sitting in a pile. Some of them had a bit of mould. I asked the organizers if I could just make a wee donation and take the whole lot off their hands. I have been inspired to... Continue Reading →
One year ago my friend Lou Anne Sybenga and I started a project called #1yearofstitches or #onestitchaday. This challenge was begun by Hannah Claire Somerville. When I saw this project on Instagram it took my fancy. I had just finished a year long one-a-day project which required me to go outside everyday and make ephemeral art.... Continue Reading →
I spent the weekend with these harmonious souls walking a wee part of the Bruce Trail on an Autumn Retreat with the theme, Letting Go. The trail was quite difficult in parts and because of the drizzle, it was also slippery. This meant that I needed to pay attention to where my feet landed. This part... Continue Reading →
Evelyn Ward de Roo 