Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 410
May 9, 2015
Justine's Journal #38
52 Weeks 500 Words
This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.
Week 38
"Remember the post about the premonition I had about my brother? Remember the dream about Lotto numbers? Today, as I sit to write this, I’m wondering about these events anew. I've been reading some new work Elaina sent me (and if you know her work, you know premonition, dreams and visions form a part of it) and something she wrote has put me to thinking. It was about the concept understanding, the feeling something rather than the knowing, although the two go together, of course.
Feeling something rather than knowing. Now isn't that just a humdinger. We tend to think we need to know something first before accepting the feelings that go with it. And when we do sense (feel) something, we think we must research the thing to know the thing before trusting what we sensed. Like me with my brother. I said I would investigate this premonition phenomenon and then post about it. Because, let’s face it, I didn't trust my ability to simply sense something was wrong. I have to know how it’s possible.
Well, let me just say here my investigations have led me to the point where I understand it’s feeling something rather than knowing, and to trust my inner voice, to allow for the likelihood instincts sometimes kick us into gear. This isn't an entry about premonition and I may now never do so, because there is no logical answer. It’s a feeling. It’s not a knowing. And, knowing it’s not a knowing, the knowing and the feeling go together, if you understand my meaning J
The reason I ponder the two events mentioned, besides having read the prompt in Elaina’s work, is due to another small event that happened to me this past week. A small thing, but my stomach sort of hollowed out and got me to thinking. (Maybe not so small a thing, then)
I was driving in the suburbs around me and took a turn I rarely use (on my way to a dentist) and as I started pulling at the steering wheel I saw in my mind’s eye a little hairy dog run across the road. Instinct made me slow down quite a bit and, as I turned the corner, there was a dog running across the road indeed. Had I not slowed, chances are I would have hit him/her. The dog wasn't hairy and it was bigger, but a dog was running across the road where I saw it would.
Right, so my stomach caved in; this was quite a thing. Déjà vu? Premonition? Instinct? Vision? The universe telling me to slow down when taking a corner? Heaven knows, but I tell you now categorically, from here on out I intend to listen to my feelings, however they end up being presented to me, whether sight, sound or a shiver over skin.
I learn something new daily. How absolutely magical."
This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.
Week 38
"Remember the post about the premonition I had about my brother? Remember the dream about Lotto numbers? Today, as I sit to write this, I’m wondering about these events anew. I've been reading some new work Elaina sent me (and if you know her work, you know premonition, dreams and visions form a part of it) and something she wrote has put me to thinking. It was about the concept understanding, the feeling something rather than the knowing, although the two go together, of course.
Feeling something rather than knowing. Now isn't that just a humdinger. We tend to think we need to know something first before accepting the feelings that go with it. And when we do sense (feel) something, we think we must research the thing to know the thing before trusting what we sensed. Like me with my brother. I said I would investigate this premonition phenomenon and then post about it. Because, let’s face it, I didn't trust my ability to simply sense something was wrong. I have to know how it’s possible.
Well, let me just say here my investigations have led me to the point where I understand it’s feeling something rather than knowing, and to trust my inner voice, to allow for the likelihood instincts sometimes kick us into gear. This isn't an entry about premonition and I may now never do so, because there is no logical answer. It’s a feeling. It’s not a knowing. And, knowing it’s not a knowing, the knowing and the feeling go together, if you understand my meaning J
The reason I ponder the two events mentioned, besides having read the prompt in Elaina’s work, is due to another small event that happened to me this past week. A small thing, but my stomach sort of hollowed out and got me to thinking. (Maybe not so small a thing, then)
I was driving in the suburbs around me and took a turn I rarely use (on my way to a dentist) and as I started pulling at the steering wheel I saw in my mind’s eye a little hairy dog run across the road. Instinct made me slow down quite a bit and, as I turned the corner, there was a dog running across the road indeed. Had I not slowed, chances are I would have hit him/her. The dog wasn't hairy and it was bigger, but a dog was running across the road where I saw it would.
Right, so my stomach caved in; this was quite a thing. Déjà vu? Premonition? Instinct? Vision? The universe telling me to slow down when taking a corner? Heaven knows, but I tell you now categorically, from here on out I intend to listen to my feelings, however they end up being presented to me, whether sight, sound or a shiver over skin.
I learn something new daily. How absolutely magical."
May 8, 2015
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May 7, 2015
May 6, 2015
May 5, 2015
On Typing
When I started this writing journey, it was via long hand and scraps of paper. Next up was a manual typewriter, something like this one. I did not know how to type, never took the subject at school, but I tell you, this baby forced me to learn FAST! :)
May 4, 2015
Paraskavedekatriaphobia and Curmurring
The last two currently on file - thought I'd post them :)
May 2, 2015
Justine's Journal #37
52 Weeks 500 Words
This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.
Week 37
"Have you looked at your old photographs recently? The photos from the days of your film camera, those spools you saved up for and then developed when you could afford it? How much easier the digital age is when it comes to photos! Although, let us admit, having tangible pictures in an album or a box somewhere has far more value than a host of files on a computer. Those of you who have never been in that place, have been taking photos with a digital camera from the start of your recording instincts, cannot understand this. It isn't wrong; your journey is merely different.
I did it a while ago. I hauled out boxes of photos and spent hours going through them. Yes, if you remember, this was an attempt to create order from chaos, to put everything into a niche for ease of future reference. Most of them are now ‘sorted’ but it isn't yet finished. This, though, isn't the focus of my post.
I smiled over images of times gone by, laughed, cried a bit too, and the strangest thing is how viewing a photo is able to take you right back to the moment. I could smell the surroundings as my fingers caressed the shiny substance, and I could hear the noises at the time, I could feel the emotions of the one taking the picture. It was so real, it did cause smiles, laughter and tears, because I was again there. This is the beauty of an old photograph. Memory is the strangest thing. We never really forget anything, but the layers of life do tend to obscure them after a while. With concerted effort we may drag a pertinent memory from our recesses, but it is an effort in most cases. Something like hypnosis may bring it out faster, but as I've never been hypnotised, I can’t comment.
A photo is memory. The visual can nudge us into a time passed and we are again, for a few moments, right there. It is magic, in my opinion, the magic of our souls, because we never do forget. Sometimes we just need a bit of a nudge. A digital image, of course, is also a photo and a memory, and yet I find it doesn't quite achieve the same result. It isn’t tangible. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s as if the thing in your hands creates sensations that travel along your nerves to your memory banks. Perhaps I’m being fanciful!
I love my old photos whether organised or now, and in a year or so I’ll go back to remember. It is not the past I seek, though, for we should not live in the past. It’s the ability to remember. We are after all formed of all those moments. I had some really good moments, and I don’t want to ever forget them.
Go on, haul out your stash and see what happens for you." J
This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.
Week 37
"Have you looked at your old photographs recently? The photos from the days of your film camera, those spools you saved up for and then developed when you could afford it? How much easier the digital age is when it comes to photos! Although, let us admit, having tangible pictures in an album or a box somewhere has far more value than a host of files on a computer. Those of you who have never been in that place, have been taking photos with a digital camera from the start of your recording instincts, cannot understand this. It isn't wrong; your journey is merely different.
I did it a while ago. I hauled out boxes of photos and spent hours going through them. Yes, if you remember, this was an attempt to create order from chaos, to put everything into a niche for ease of future reference. Most of them are now ‘sorted’ but it isn't yet finished. This, though, isn't the focus of my post.
I smiled over images of times gone by, laughed, cried a bit too, and the strangest thing is how viewing a photo is able to take you right back to the moment. I could smell the surroundings as my fingers caressed the shiny substance, and I could hear the noises at the time, I could feel the emotions of the one taking the picture. It was so real, it did cause smiles, laughter and tears, because I was again there. This is the beauty of an old photograph. Memory is the strangest thing. We never really forget anything, but the layers of life do tend to obscure them after a while. With concerted effort we may drag a pertinent memory from our recesses, but it is an effort in most cases. Something like hypnosis may bring it out faster, but as I've never been hypnotised, I can’t comment.
A photo is memory. The visual can nudge us into a time passed and we are again, for a few moments, right there. It is magic, in my opinion, the magic of our souls, because we never do forget. Sometimes we just need a bit of a nudge. A digital image, of course, is also a photo and a memory, and yet I find it doesn't quite achieve the same result. It isn’t tangible. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s as if the thing in your hands creates sensations that travel along your nerves to your memory banks. Perhaps I’m being fanciful!
I love my old photos whether organised or now, and in a year or so I’ll go back to remember. It is not the past I seek, though, for we should not live in the past. It’s the ability to remember. We are after all formed of all those moments. I had some really good moments, and I don’t want to ever forget them.
Go on, haul out your stash and see what happens for you." J
