Dreams Woven In Briar
Once, long ago, Caz the artist had big, huge, GINORMOUS dreams.
I dreamt of making an animation for Sesame Street, writing a heap of illustrated kids books, and my creative dream at the top of the list….
Writing all the fairy tales for the next series of “Jim Hensons The Storyteller”, as they stopped making them after only 13 episodes and it was one thing that inspired me to no end. I would watch them with my kids, sobbing in most of them, not surprisingly for my children or anyone that knows me…because it would draw you completely in to the old world of fantasy and faeries, of the amazing realm of the light held within the darkness.
I wrote a few pieces of the stories, dark fairy tales, half scrawled on pieces of paper, on an old Mac now gone, floating in the dream that hope lived even in the seemingly hopeless.
I know that none of these stories were ever brilliantly written, but I had the ideas and the vision that someday they would be surrounded by Jim Hensons Creature Shop creatures and it would blend seemlessly into theirs and my own, inner fantasy world.
So years passed and I never did anything with them, and then the other day I found one of the scrawled, not-brilliantly written, Brothers Grimm inspired, heartbroken fairy tales; and even though the amazing incredible Neil Gaiman was due to bring out the next series of The Storyteller some time ago, leaving mildly less hope for me 🤣🤣 I decided that I would put my little fairy tale out into the world anyway, faults and all; because little-artist-fantasy-world-dreaming Caz that uses-too-many-punctuation-marks needed to know that she is not forgotten, that dreams still can live on and grow, can still be read and (hopefully) inspire imagination even if it’s not in the way that you first hoped.
So with only a teensy bit more waffle, I bring to you an original fantasy story, a folk tale for (definitely) teens to adults, or perhaps a fairy tale with a moral?? Honestly not sure where it fits yet….but I’m doing it anyway!!! ❤️
The Briar and the Clay
A Dark Fairy Tale Inspired by the Brothers Grimm (and Jim Hensons The Storyteller.)
-written for you awesome peeps, by Caz Rose.
Once, far from the here and now, a babe was born onto the grateful earth.
He was brought into the world bearing the mark of the brave and the beautiful.
His young, joyful life was filled with adventure, and a perfect, abundant future seemed completely certain.
But life was not as kind to him, as life had hoped.
His loving mother—whom he loved and adored—fell ill with a terrible infection, and after much suffering, she died.
His young, tender heart was so shattered by grief that it broke clean in two.
One half was seized by a raven as it fell and was carried to the other side of the world, where it was dropped into a briar hedge and lost to the leaves and thorn.
The other half was taken by a swan, where it floated under sun and moonlight upon a gentle river—travelling far across a broken earth until it sank to the very bottom of a lake, lost among the stones and clay.
Over the years, the young babe grew tall and strong, as best as he could without a heart to call upon.
He learned a trade and gained so much popularity that he earned a very fine living, until he became the wealthiest man around.
He acquired a substantial home and much, much land with the money he gained, and proudly kept his gold and jeweled opulence in large brown leather pouches that grew rounder every year.
But although his wealth grew, his kindness did not—turning away any poor stranger or friend that needed help, and refusing the hand of any woman that offered it.
But with everything he acquired, there was always something missing.
Something he could not find.
Something no amount of money could buy.
He carried a heavy emptiness, and no wealth or favor seemed to fill the deep, unceasing hole within.
One fateful day, a kind maiden came to his door.
She was very poor, and her clothes were made of dirty rags that hung from her shoulders and fell about her feet.
Awkward looks glanced between them, the woman nervous to meet his gaze.
She told him that she had nowhere to go, but if he could perhaps give her a meal and somewhere dry to sleep, she promised she would give him much in return—only asking for warmth, for safety.
Then she told him she could give him a great and wondrous life, should he choose to see beneath the jewel.
This confused the man, for she was different from any woman he was used to seeing in his circles—the women with their fineries and laced possessions.
He looked her up and down but could not see the beauty through her skinny, disheveled frame and unkempt hair.
With a shake of his head, he felt there was nothing he needed from this woman.
He told her he had no need of her wants and witchcraft, and bid her good day.
But just as he was about to close the door, he noticed a bright glow underneath her smeared clothing.
From within it, he could clearly see—inside her chest—a ruby-red jewel, held in body, clutched under bone.
He had never seen the likes of it, not at any jewel house or royal event he had ever attended.
How could a woman so poor hold a thing so precious?
He could not let her go without having it as his own, so he deceitfully invited her inside and offered her a meal and a room inside his home, giving her warmth as she had asked.
That night, he asked her about the jewel, but she would not reveal the secrets.
Could not.
Would not.
She would only tell him,
“You need to make a choice.”
He pulled out his brown leather purse, brimming with coin, begging her to take as much gold as she could hold within her hands.
Again, she would not.
Could not.
The woman stayed for a day and a night.
All the while she cleaned and cooked.
All the while he begged for her to know of the treasures within.
All the while she refused him, as he shook the coins about her feet. All she would reply was,
“You need to make a choice.”
This only fuelled his anger further.
“What choice?” shouted the man.
“What choice could I possibly make? It is YOU that needs to make a choice!”
She would not reply.
The man would plead no more.
Furiously, he dragged her by the arm, threw her into her room and locked the door, screaming at her that he would not—nor he could not—release her, and would feed her on little to nothing until she revealed how he could possess the jewel.
He became obsessed with it, day in, day out, pacing the corridor outside her room—the power that pulled from her very chest connected like strings into the depths of his mind.
Fruitless days and sleepless nights passed into weeks, then months, to no reward.
On the third month of being denied, the young man, bitter with greed, unlocked her bedroom door and crept silently into her darkened room, where the sickly woman lay sleeping.
He shook her to waking, demanding the jewel be given to him—that he would give anything she asked.
Weak and exhausted, she again shook her head.
“You need to make a choice.”
The man, obsessed with ownership and drenched in rage, demanded that if she would not give it, then he would take it.
From behind his back, he pulled out a fine-bladed knife, maddeningly raised it above his head, and sliced bitterly at her heart.
But though he frantically searched, he would not find the precious jewel.
His crazed fingers rifled through torn hessian and cotton rags, desperate to find where his glowing prize lay hidden.
It had vanished into nothingness, as had the woman within them, from beneath his blood-drenched hands.
The man grabbed at the rags, screaming violently in angry defeat.
He picked them up, screeching into the empty room, and threw them madly at the wall.
But as the woven scraps fell to the floor, out tumbled—without so much as a quiet ceremony—two small halves of a once broken heart, slowly coming to a stop at his feet.
One half covered in briar thorn, the other half in grit-marked clay.
He picked them up curiously and held them in his trembling, bloodied hands.
It was then that he realised everything he had done, everything he had lost, every choice unmade.
A lifetime of salted tears fell from his eyes, pouring out onto the cold stone floor around him, until he had wept first a running river, then a lake around his once warm and ambitious body.
And from deep inside his lifeless chest grew a vine, entwining the two pieces in briar, to make them one.
And not time, man or woman, machine or spell, can remove the island of briar within the lake to this day—where the swan and the raven stand as guardians, forevermore.
3 ways to help you experiment with your creativity. Ready to play??
Experimenting with creativity and the joy of play!
Playtime!!!
Here are 3 things I remind myself to do to get through the guilt that shows up when I am trying to get into a creative flow, how YOU can achieve more joy in creating, gain more freedom to experiment, and help you to release your fears in your creativity to0!
1. Dropping perfectionism
We all hope that when we begin to make something, we will be proud of it and enjoy the process, but sometimes that little sneaky Mr. Perfect (and not the good kind) creeps in and whispers….”but it could be sooo much betterrrrr…..” okay, I know, now he’s sounding creepy…
This happens more often when you are making things that will be shown outside of yourself.
Because then there is added pressure and perhaps a whole lot of fears of judgement thrown into the mix; you’re not just producing a moment, you’re producing an outcome, and you’re not intending anymore to just paint for pleasure alone. Maybe you’re trying to make artwork that you know other people will see, maybe it’s a gift that means a lot to give to someone, or possibly you’re hoping someone will buy your thing and that’s when you stop creating solely for yourself, and when that pressure kicks in, and perfectionism can really become a problem.
If we let it.
Trying to make things perfect every single time we create is like running after an invisible horse we can never catch. It’s simply not achievable, unless you can poop out exact replicas of all your artistic creations… and quite frankly, I don’t have the butthole for that kind of malarky.
What we need to bring back is that sense of magic, fun, and spontaneous flow.
So to start to get that back if you’re stuck in the roundabout of perfectionism, a great thing to remind ourselves is that….
Sometimes the best creations have come from whoopsies, mistakes, a spilled coffee, a left turn that took you somewhere you’ve never been before.
I have a guitarist friend that used to tell me, “if you play the wrong note, just play it again so it sounds like you meant to do it.” Making the mistake a feature, in a way. And also the reminder that, this is ART! It’s meant to be messy, unique, and a little weird. It’s kind of expected, so you have a get out of jail free card to be as imperfect as possible!
And if you’re just experimenting with things, you in no way have to show people what you’re in the process of creating. In fact, some creative people recommend you don’t do that, but that is totally up to you. The most amazing Austin Kleon who wrote the very famous “Show your work!” said
“Not only do I think it’s a bad idea to share while you’re actually doing your work, I think it’s a fast track to destroying your work.”
But ultimately, this choice is completely yours; for you, are the creator, after all!
I like to think I am getting better at imperfectionism every year, and if that is you, then you are BRAVE! It takes courage to show your flaws and make them bloom. But it is oh so rewarding!
Here’s another quote I found in my brain today….
”if we were all perfect, everyone would do us”
—Me
Or is the quote
“if it was easy everyone would do it”??
meh…potaoes, poTAtoes…..teeheee
2. You’re not wasting time. You’re learning
“Paintings are but research and experiment. I never do a painting as a work of art. All of them are researches.”
— Pablo Picasso
We’ve probably all heard the story of Thomas Edison and how long it took him to create the first commercial incandescent light bulb, making a stack of attempts before he gave us all a light bulb we can now screw in and…..
…..look….light!!
He wasn’t wasting time when he was doing that. He was learning each time what did and didn’t work and it’s the same process with every new thing we try to do that we never knew in the beginning. Walking, using a spoon to feed ourselves, being an adult….
……..I’m still on the ‘trial and error’ plan with that one…
And even if you think that you aren’t good at learning new things, remember that learning is in itself a skill, and the more you do it, the more you find the joy and wonder and awe in it which keeps us a little more mesmerised by it and ultimately makes us want to do it more.
My childhood mantra was someone continuously telling me to stop mucking around. One of the reasons I wasn’t exshellent at schoolz. I swear, our childhoods have so much to answer for with our creativity hurdles…. Because someone might as well have told me to stop thinking because that will never, ever happen and my whole entire life is one big muck around 😂. (Being silly is one of my proudest obsessions) Even though, the thought of ‘wasting time’ when I should be productive is still hard for me to do without a mega plate of guilt and a side salad of icky afterwards.
But I can guarantee I’ve wasted much more time trying to make something work that just wants to be something else and I could’ve used that time more wisely in the beginning, or at least, when I knew I didn’t have all I needed.
I could’ve stared at clouds and fueled my imagination, discovered, learnt more about my process through trial and error, attended a workshop, I could’ve tried a short course in the subject or ‘mucked around’ with arts and crafts, and found another way to attempt my creative endeavour.
Trying out a different way of doing things, and learning something new along the way either by accident or purpose, could possibly be the thing thats been missing from your creativity all along and EVEN revolutionise your creative mindset, or maybe how you do things along the way.
Learning and the secret art of (not) wasting time is an important part of getting more confidant at that thing, before you put that thing, into practice.
And confidence is so essential!
It’s the difference between utilising your imagination and utilising your imagination without allowing other people to judge it.
And believing our worth as a creative allows us to flower like the beautiful petals we already are.
So go stare at some clouds and waste some time precious petals, I dare ‘ya 🥰
❤️
3. Learning to play
”We don’t stop playing because we grow old…we grow old because we stop playing”
—George Bernard Shaw
What if you remembered that we, as children, had the most amazing imagination? Children experiment all the time without thinking about it becoming a masterpiece.
But we, as adults, often that’s the first thing we do! We usually have a crystal clear intention about exactly how we want this to play out; what we need to create it, what we will do with it afterwards. It’s not about play it’s about product.
Children, on the other hand, experiment with things all the time.
The first idea will turn into so many others, and you can see their little brains ticking; when they mix colours together to make a goopy messy mix of one you can’t name, not thinking about a reference photo, just going in with what they think it looks like in their imagination….. ….until…… possibly even best-intentioned adults step in and tell them it’s not right or they shouldn’t have chosen to draw those mice long instead of short, or… “are daisies really black though, Kara?” or a million other ways we lose that sense of playful imagination to the informed ‘right’ grown-up world.
What if one day, we decided to NOT make something masterful?
What if our intent for the day was to create the most weird, strange thing ever seen from everything you have put in your trash (apart from the gross stuff unless you’re trying to bring the neighbourhood dogs around to share in your art piece) and a pile of gloopy glue you made in your saucepan from good ol fashion cornflour and water that literally cost you two dollars?
The thing about play is we have to drop all judgement and just be in the moment. Try not to see your project how another artist sees it, or how you think others might view it.
It is expression, it’s your way of looking at the world that other people want to see.
How you view light and colour, mushrooms and monsters and sunsets.
We love viewing art because it transports us, takes us behind the eyes of the creator, and we are lost for a time, in where they are, in what they feel, in what they see. So allow others to see how you play and inspire them through you, to play too.
Who knows where it might take the world if we could all play more!!
Because playfulness is not frivolous! Playfulness is not silly, wasteful, or stupid; it isn’t something that you stop doing when you reach puberty… and yes, even adults can do it!
Playfulness is an essential part of experimenting creatively. The only hard part is allowing yourself to do it.
We experiment with things all the time…recipes, clothes, hair styles… learning to play in our creative life can bring us so much more than freedom. It can bring us fun!!
Also… keep a record your experiment results, a sketch or take an image of them and put them in a creative freedom folder. They might be your next big idea, or kickstart your creativity sometime you are feeling not so creative; and they will remind you how taking creative risks yields some pretty awesome results, just from play!
And if all else fails, remember this…
“Only one who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible.”
— Miguel de Unamuno
So go be absurd. I know I will be! every. single. day.
If you would like to see the video I created from these thoughts, you can find it here!
Thank you so much for including me in your play time!! ❤️
The quiet art of investing in yourself
I find life such a conundrum.
(I really just wanted to use that word because it makes me sound smart 🤣).
One moment life is full of such joy and promise that you want each second to last for an eternity, and then the next filled with stumbling blocks designed to make you fall flat on your face making you just want to turn over, lay there and stare at the ceiling. Life really is like four seasons in a day, and every season brings new weather to navigate, constantly on a new unchartered voyage setting sail without a compass or direction, and every new land is knee deep in some funky shit that we have to work out wether or not we eat it, swim in it, let it swallow us whole or use it to build an empire. Life never comes with a warning label or a signpost, much to my complete disgust.
So how do we get through the stormy weather and out into the open calm spaces?
When I started studying herbal medicine, (it may come as a shock that I didn’t complete that 😂) I learnt the first step of the wise woman method of healing.
First, do nothing.
Be still. Listen to within. In conventional medicine that seems counterproductive. But it makes all the sense in the world. It takes trust. It takes having faith that what is needed for you may not be what you are asking for but that may be even better than what you ever dreamed could be. And in those quiet, still moments, you aren’t being selfish, or greedy, or letting people down.
You are investing in yourself.
Sometimes that investment is time; by stealing moments for things that bring you joy, like quiet walks on the beach, laughter with friends, time to create, or memories that make you warm on the cold days. Sometimes it is financially; by saving little bits of money for yourself in a personal bank account, just for the things that you need to make your dreams a reality. Sometimes that is for health; to make meals that you know are a necessary option, to move more, stretch more, practice stillness. Sometimes that is just putting your needs first and saying no instead of always, even begrudgingly, saying yes.
In the middle of building my shop for this website, when my mind was pulled in so many different directions, I decided to utilise this investment opportunity and get out a block of air dry clay that I had bought months ago and not used.
I made myself a little octopus paint palette. In the craziness of trying to get everything done, I had put aside my great need for play, to create for the sake of creating (I did actually make a video of it though….bonus points!) to make something and not have it perfect and even see the cracks in the clay and let them stay there and even show everyone said cracks because it was all about being in the still do nothing moment, and not about selling, not about perfecting.
I have added the YouTube video for you if you would like to see my cracks 😂 and have some air dry clay play time too 🥰
Even though I only just wrote a blog post about play a month ago, it seems that it really is about “we teach what we most need to learn”. So it’s back to yoga and healthy eating and taking more play time with clay for me! Because I am freakin worth the investment, and so, you awesome creation, are you! So……..how will you invest in you?
❤️ Caz
Blog Post Title One (“Are we finished yet?”)
It all begins with an idea.
Obi eagerly awaits the completion of the website that has been stealing cuddle time
What the freakin bleep bleep!!
I am actually doing it! I have a BLOG and a SHOP and a place for FREE THINGS and a place where people will feel cherished and I am so excited and grateful that this morning I had a little happy cry.
I doubted myself, if I could create a website with minimal techy knowledge and I have surprised myself completely! Haa! Just goes to show what you can create when you persist :)
My experience as I began this whole website build was ( I say WAS fully knowing that I still AM on this website build since I am currently writing this as I create it….thanks to my aeronautically designed ping pong brain…..) a mixture of excitement, overwhelm and trepidation.
When you’re doing something you’ve waited so long to attempt, how are you supposed to feel? There’s a big part of me that thinks “If I do this, then what?”
When I co-built my faerie shop ‘Faerie Nature’ many many moons ago in a little town in the south-west, all my heart went into it.
I would sit in that shop with my many ideas, listening to the twinkling water from the indoor pond and feeding my new actual baby that I gave birth to in the middle of creating it all, being amazed how something could go from a spark of a thought into an actual real thing.
I’d made a thing!! And it was so lovely!
We made a big papier mâche tree right in the middle of the shop with real cork screw willow branches shooting out of the sides that my business partner and my kids and my mum and I all made together, and billowy blue hand-dyed material stapled to the roof so it looked like the sky.
There was fairy lights and magic and it was very pantomimey but so purdy! and actually an amazing effort for our first shop and one of my best memories ever.
But you never really know how things are going to look until you actually try it.
This time I am making this purely for my own little creations. For my family. For my dreams.
This website is a shiny vessel of all the things I have wanted to create; held in my heart over years, dreamt about through seasons, and doodled over constantly in the many piles of half scrawled sketchbooks I keep everywhere so I always have something to put ideas into.
I have been spurred on by my now-grown loving amazing children of whimsy and their wonderful loving partners, my awesome ever-listening, always loving mum Judy, my sister Shaz (who I pinky promised last year that we would fully live our dreams and be each others inspiration), WOOHOOO Shaz!!; my ever creative bro Kimmy and travelling bro Jono who bought me this laptop; our little dog Obi who listens to everything I ramble on about even if she doesn’t understand human language and gives me endless love, cuddles and poopy breath; my courageous partner Nate who has chosen to be my partner even though I can get incredibly excited about bugs and I continuously ask questions… haahaa; and amazingly supportive, wonderfully encouraging non-judgemental friends who love me anyway because they are thankfully just as weird as I am……. aaaand the family of possums living in the trees above our house.
Thank you all for loving me, no matter how quirky or persistently annoying I can be when I’m asking “but does it look any good?” for the 8th time, you have helped me to create this dream in so many ways every day; helping me glimpse my potential, being the anxiety soothers, the advice givers, and helping to prop me up against the world when I myself can not.
I do not have words for how thankful I am that you are loving and believing in me as much as I do you.
I am so so very grateful and I would not be making this giant leap without your love and your endless inspiration.
You are all incredibly wonderous, loving beings.
AND to everyone else that has stuck through my acceptance speech (teehee) that I will meet here in Little Moonseed land……. THANK YOU.
For sprinkling your little flecks of joyous sparkle to my world and I so hope by reading these tiny weird brainseeds, that you may feel a little more loved, have a little giggle, and hopefully, encourage you to fulfil your dreams too. I am here to cheer you on!
And in response to my previous question, “If I do this, then what?”
Well…. I guess we’re all about to find out :)
And so with that……
I say a big YAAAYYYYYY!!
Love always, Caz x
The beauty of being dirty
We think that once we are grown, we are the teachers but to me, we still have so much to learn about how to play and live fully in our space. How to hold our hands up and ask for cuddles.
How to see our quirks, and like them, each and every one.
Reclaiming the Joy of Mess and Play
There is something very special
when you first unfurl your fresh piece of thick black paper and take out the brightly coloured chalk pastels from their wooden box home and begin to draw.
It’s not like any other medium for me.
It is sensory. Tactile play.
My hands are covered in muddy colours, and usually the side of my face as well; my mind can go where it pleases and when it works, amazing things happen.
And that’s where these guys come from. The place within me that feels awkward, and overwhelmed, and a little shocked at how I end up in those bizarre situations in the first place.
But yet, beyond the startled eyes, is childlike wonder.
A being so full of love, and hope and adventure and wanting so much to understand everything.; while also, not wanting to understand anything at all and just let it all be whatever it wants to be.
These little pastely guys are a perfect example of the juxtaposition that dwells within so many of our beings, every day; in places we rarely show. So we keep them hidden in an effort to feel secure, be liked, keep everything safe.
This little guy is called “Fish Boy".”
Sometimes heads fall off.
Sometimes you don’t know how to stick them back on but you’re trying.
And that’s what counts.
I don’t really have a title for this one. I think she is probably me, wearing her socks on her head because she knows that if she doesn’t, one of them will end up getting lost somewhere. I made this when I started to like my quirks and so she’s finally made them her friend :)
I wonder what kind of adults we would be, what kind of world we would have, if every adult could play like children. If instead of lunch break it would be play time. In the lunch room there would be bright walls, bean bags, party pies, fairy bread, a giant easel in the corner with paintbrushes too big for our tiny hands and crazy coloured pots full of finger paint. We’d be given extra time for lunch to just use our imagination or create a picture for show and tell after lunch.
I wonder, what kind of people would run the world? What different things would we value? What kind of parents would our children have?
We think that once we are grown, we are the teachers but to me, we still have so much to learn about how to play and live fully in our space. How to hold our hands up and ask for cuddles. How to see our quirks, and like them, each and every one. They are all mixed up in a wonderland of emotional vibrancy. I don’t think anyone needs to give us a reason or a time of day to express that child within, that playful, messy, wonderous, adventurous child.
They dance around the mundane, waiting for their front and centre place in your world.
Just waiting for you to get your hands dirty :)
Seeds From the Suitcase.
I opened her suitcase, filled with newspaper clippings, old letters from the war, and all sorts of bits and pieces and it made me wonder if she would just take that old suitcase out and ponder through everything every now and then or did she just shove it under her bed and forget about it all?
Like little seeds that would never see the light again.
The Luggage That Grew a Garden of Dreams
I was raised on a farm.
902 acres of green rolling hillsides, bushland, cows, wildflowers, adventure, and the old fallen down homestead that my father had grown up in.
It was the perfect place for an imaginative, introverted child to grow up.
It was a the best playground ever…..well, you know, apart from the asbestos, rusty nails, broken glass, decaying medicines, paranormal experiences and stuff. Sometimes I wonder exactly how we survived our childhood intact!
My brother Kim and I would jump off the hay stack and roof of the house and land with a commando roll because we needed skills to be the international spies we were training to become. Never once had a broken bone. Bizarre! Growing up on the farm gave me a never ending supply of escapist fuel that my brain could make stories from. What I remember the most is all the little things that got left behind in my dads homestead, as my dad would prefer to not have the past haunt him and wouldn’t let us collect anything from ‘the old place’, as interesting as it was to us at the time.
My Aunty Ethel, my dad’s eldest sister, liked to keep things, and many of those things were kept in a suitcase under her bed. I don’t know why this stuck out to me as a bit different, but I remember her and also my grandma, kept memories in suitcases. Perhaps it is what you did, back in the day. Utilise spaces and things the best you could. I have Aunty Ethels wooden scrabble game, filled with newspaper clippings about wildflowers. To me as a child this seemed an odd thing to keep treasure in suitcases, because after all, suitcases were for travelling and for collecting memories, not really for storing them in. After my Aunty Ethel passed away, I opened her suitcase, filled with newspaper clippings, old letters from the war, and all sorts of bits and pieces and it made me wonder if she would just take that old suitcase out and ponder through everything every now and then or did she just shove it under her bed and forget about it all?
Like little seeds that would never see the light again.
So I figured that when I built this whole website, what I wanted was to bring the seeds I have within me that have been lying there in the darkness, and I would nurture them and see what weird and wonderful new species of plant I could grow :). Would it be an inedible puffy fly trap that would shoot out farts, or would it be something really colourful and bold and eclectically wonderous? So despite what urban dictionary would tell you what a suitcase is….I know you’re going to look that up now and I have totally ruined how magical this all sounded but in my head it still sounds magical and so I am going to keep it anyway……..
…… loses train of thought………
*elevator music*
…….
So despite what urban dictionary would tell you what a suitcase is, this is the perfect title for my newsletter. It is all those things I have wished I could grow in the world, from the core of my being, to reach you and then hopefully share a little inspiration to find your seed that you hopefully plant in the world until there is a whole forest of weird unidentified species of effervescent brilliance.
That’s how a forest grows.
It just throws out as many seeds as it can and sometimes birds eat them and they get pooped out and sometimes they find their way on the water, on the wind. Sometimes you just have to throw the seeds out there and let them land where they may. Into a sculpture, a podcast, a letter to a stranger left on the park bench, or the ping pong brain seeds thrown into an oddly formed blog.
One of those seeds is exactly what you have just been reading :)
If you would like to join “seeds from the suitcase” which is Little Moonseeds newsletter family, you can do that right here ⬇️ It is a free, once-a-month read, straight to your inbox, with a little bit about what’s going on in little moonseeds art land, strange, emotive and (if you ask me) witty 😁 one-way conversations from the brain of Caz, as well as fun and neato things that I have or will be creating! I would love to see you there! Have a great day!! ❤️ Caz