How does one choose a name for a blog, or even begin a blog, when it is a spontaneous action that has brought one to this screen?
Why did I start a blog? It is part of my life to record my journey. So far I have recorded very little. Emails to friends capture moments along the way. There is no continuity, no way of sharing the parts that can be more public. It is time to honour the promise I made in New Zealand one year ago, to write about my journey.
What is the journey? I am not sure. It came, in part, from wanting, all my life, to be a professional artist, then discovering when I got there, that on its own it was not enough.
Who? J Kay de Lautour Scott http://www.kayscott-artist.com/
The website is long overdue to be updated. Paintings are waiting to evolve, swirling about in my mind. Clients are waiting for commissions. And so, instead of all the things on my "to do" list, I start a blog.
I am interested in the fact that I have changed the font for my name. I like a cursive script. The font I have chosen looks a lot like my "best printing" when I tried to do my best. Back then it was to please others. This time, the task is harder. This time it must please me.
My current favourite quote - discovered yesterday - is
Travellers, there is no path, paths are made by walking. Antonio Machado.
**********************************************************************
My other favourite quotes include the butterflies. I think they should be in colours too.
Just living is not enough,
said the Butterfly. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. Hans Christian Anderson (1805-1875)
*************************************************************************
How does one become a butterfly?
she asked pensively. You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar. Trina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers
************************************************************************* I've done it! (she said confidently, having changed the word from "hopefully"). I've written my first blog!
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4 comments:
Sent to me by Margaret... thanks for this, conjures up lovely images as well!
The Calf-Path
by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)
One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail, as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bellwethers always do.
And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made,
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed — do not laugh —
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street,
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed that zigzag calf about,
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They follow still his crooked way,
And lose one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.
Here are some more "Path" quotes. Thanks to Sue for sending these.
“You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself”
Buddha
“Education is the path from cocky ignorance to miserable uncertainty.”
Mark Twain
“If the path be beautiful, let us not ask where it leads.”
Anatole France
“Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possibility.”
Oprah Winfrey
“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.”
Paulo Coelho
“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.”
Rosalia de Castro
Butterfly
Where do butterflies go when it rains?
A little book I read once asked
Where do butterflies go?
And I can’t remember if they told us where
And in the end, I don’t really care.
Because I wear my butterfly into town
Strapped to my chest, and people stare.
It’s made of sequins, and it’s purple
And everything rhymes with that.
there is no path
How does one choose a name for a blog, or even begin a blog, when it is a spontaneous action that has brought one to this screen?
Why did I start a blog? It is part of my life to record my journey. So far I have recorded very little. Emails to friends capture moments along the way. There is no continuity, no way of sharing the parts that can be more public. It is time to honour the promise I made in New Zealand one year ago, to write about my journey.
What is the journey? I am not sure. It came, in part, from wanting, all my life, to be a professional artist, then discovering when I got there, that on its own it was not enough.
Who?
J Kay de Lautour Scott http://www.kayscott-artist.com/
The website is long overdue to be updated. Paintings are waiting to evolve, swirling about in my mind. Clients are waiting for commissions. And so, instead of all the things on my "to do" list, I start a blog.
I am interested in the fact that I have changed the font for my name. I like a cursive script. The font I have chosen looks a lot like my "best printing" when I tried to do my best. Back then it was to please others. This time, the task is harder. This time it must please me.
My current favourite quote - discovered yesterday - is
Travellers, there is no path, paths are made by walking. Antonio Machado.
***********************************
My other favourite quotes include the butterflies.
I think they should be in colours too.
Just living is not enough,
said the Butterfly.
One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
Hans Christian Anderson (1805-1875)
***********************************
How does one become a butterfly?
she asked pensively.
You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.
Trina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers
***********************************
I've done it! (she said confidently, having changed the word from "hopefully"). I've written my first blog!
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