The Colours of my Life

It's the second month of the year already and I am still alone. The rough seas surrounding the island seem to be accentuating my isolation as they grip tightly the terrain in their white, fluffy grasp. Is loneliness making me over romanticize everything? Probably. Should I worry about this? Maybe. Am I turning this journal into a secret diary with girly thoughts? Yep.

Nicholas hasn't written or sent any sign of life for over a month. The birds in the aviary are enough work and company to keep the days full, but something seems to be always lacking.

 I pulled myself together this morning and did what every person that feels sorry for themselves do: I ventured to find out if I am alone in my feelings of doom and gloom. The best place to do that is the islands library. As I have said before, the islands library consists of journals of every single person past and present that has inhabited the island. As human nature repeats itself, I was sure I'd find a similar account to my predicament and maybe if I was lucky find a solution too.

I knocked with intent on the imposing wooden door and waited and it wasn't long until one of the librarian's helpers opened the beast for me. She was a young girl, barely in her early twenties with a broad smile that displayed somewhat goofy teeth. She ushered me in and led me to the first isle of books, the scent of newly bound leather calming me with every breath. Maybe I didn't need to read anything...maybe I just needed to inhale deeply and my sadness would be cured.

- Yes miss, so were you looking for something particular or were you just wanting to browse?
This question came as a bit of a shock...I wasn't sure I had a suitable answer, at least not one that would not portray me as a complete idiot.
- Erm, well. I am not really sure. I am looking for something but I don't know how to describe it. To be honest I don't know if it even exists.
- So let me get this right miss, you are in doubt? Would you say that is correct?
- Umm, I guess so. The teeth I at first took as goofy, started to look menacing.
- Follow me then! Her tone indicated that I shouldn't consider for a minute to not do as I was told. So I dutifully obeyed.
She led me to a section in the middle of the next room. It was tidy and dust free, obviously it was a section that was used a lot. The heading over the neatly placed leatherbound books was one I hadn't noticed before. It was simple and to the point: WHEN IN DOUBT.
- The procedure  for this section is quite simple miss, stand in front of the bookshelf, close your eyes and point to a book. Then take it to that small desk over there and reflect while reading.
- So I pick a book by chance? The look she gave me would have made any grown man hide under a table and tremble.
- No miss, whatever gave you that idea!! Consider, your height for instance, if you are left handed or right handed, if you have a tendency to stoop, etc. You will pick the book which is suitable for you, there is no doubt about that!
I chuckled inwardly listening to her unintended pun. She ran through the instructions again, then turned and left me standing and wondering if there was a back door and if i could get to it unnoticed.
But I didn't look for a door dear reader. I did what she told me to do. And I was rewarded handsomely.

This is the book that I chose. It was called "The colours of my life" and the author was one "Mrs Janet B. Carlton".  The book was full to the brim with colour palettes. It seems that everyday Mrs Carlton would not write an entry in words but in colours. And every day the colours would be different. As much as I tried I couldn't find a duplicate colour in any of the pages.

I spent all the morning and afternoon going through the book, and even without words I could read the authors feelings and innermost thoughts. It was almost nightfall when I realized that the library would be closing soon and I had to leave.

Did the book I choose make me happier? No it probably didn't...but it did teach me one thing...one thing that comforted me: That tomorrow's colours, even the colour of the sadness I felt would be another hue. And it could possibly be a beautiful one.

Solitude

The storytellers have left the Isle. Nicholas is still away. All the helpers have returned to their families for Christmas and New Year celebrations. And I am now alone with birds and bare trees my only company.

Winter has embraced the garden in it's white serenity and the chill it brings with it reaches my very core. Or is that just loneliness I feel.

Is solitude a dark place, or a place where one can let them selves be enlightened? It depends I guess on ones attitude, like so many other things in life…If you fight it, the fight usually ends up in tears. Accepting that this is how things are for the moment, taking the ingredients that it provides you with and turning them into something tangible, something that can fill the hole that solitude brings, can be rewarding and enlightening. It's easier said than done, but it is comforting to know there is an option!

It's almost time to say goodbye to the past year. If time can be considered a companion, i'd like to shake it's hand and say "thank you". "Thank you" for the knowledge and new people you have brought into my life, "thank you" for the blessing of being alive and knowing your every day...

The young ones

Tiny Treasures From St Catherines

If you have never been to a Storyteller Symposium, maybe it should be best that I explain a little about what takes place. There are two groups that attend...the Veteran Storytellers as it were, and the budding storytellers...the latter are the ones that I have the most dealings with.
They are here primarily to find their voice!
That's where my Aviary Garden comes into play, as they have to choose a bird (and be chosen by a bird) that will accompany them on their storytelling adventures. Their isn't a single ritual that takes place...it's more like a "getting to know each other" act.
Day after day they visit the Garden and sit under the trees with their leather bound journals writing...they don't actively seek out their voice...they just let it happen...The veteran storyteller's advice to the young is to "let go"...just do what they love to do and not get frustrated.  And the typical response from the young is: "that is easier than it sounds..."
The Garden is not at it's warmest in November, so I have hot spicy rose tea on the go all the time, and many pots of various vegetable soups served for lunch.
The birds in an interesting contrast to the worried storytellers, have no stress whatsoever! They, like the rest of nature take everything in their stride, hovering over them, listening to the written words, waiting for the moment their song will fit like a piece of a puzzle with the storyteller's imagination.

On a side note, I have been missing Nicholas...he has been away now for a couple of weeks exploring the Isle of St Catherine. I did however receive a few treasures from him delivered in the post today and pretty as they were decided to catalog them...I hope it will be a nice surprise for him when he returns!

Preparations

Details from the preparation for the Storytellers symposium.

I know I have been away for a long time, but the preparations for the Symposium have really taken over life here on St Francis! It is exciting and exhausting at the same time! I promise to be back with more details of how the Symposium is going and some new floral studies soon!

Purpose

Realizing I have neglected my own journal for a while, while working with Nicholas, I return to it, imprinting a fleeting glimpse of my own feelings.
I chose a single word: purpose. Nicholas has given me a new purpose in life, and I'm grateful to him. Purpose can make you stronger, more determined, open your mind and supply you with ample amounts of adrenaline. Purpose, can steady any boat in rough waters and guide it to it's harbor. Purpose can make featherless creatures fly, and reach the destination they crave.