I’m hurting to the core………..

Mama doesn’t hear me

and I still hear the dustbin clatter

Mama doesn’t want me

Tell me does it matter?

Mama fights with Daddy, all day I hear her screaming

And I hide by the big old oak tree my tears down my face are streaming.

I sit quietly by that tree, just like a little mouse

My tummy hurts cuz I’m hungry as a horse

But no one knows what goes on in my ramshackled house

no one would care of course.

If I died an angel would come and take me up to heaven

And Jesus would sit me on his lap and feed me bread that’s leven

Please dear Jesus take me, I can’t take no more

Daddy’s coming for me, I’m hurting to the core.

(Dedicated to all the people who’ve come from abusive homes and are now fighting mental illness as a result)

Till next time

Love Deborah x

Christmas All Year Round

Hello everybody, Welcome to TradeRoutz livingStyle blogS,

When we reach this time of the year, we are tired from a year of hard work and often little reward. We therefore turn Christmas into a time of looking so forward to that reward by way of a gift, or those gifts, that we can hardly wait for the morning of the 25th to open our presents, no matter what our age!

If your work place doesn’t reward you, then you know Christmas will 🙂 So we excitedly prepare for the 25th of December, seeing this as the one time we actually do get rewarded.

Then there is the flip side. Where we want to give to others. That irresistible giving feeling of wanting to see the smile on our friends and families faces, as they open up the gifts you have lovingly bought or made, for them.

What could equal the bright wide eyed face of joy on a child or other loved ones face when they open a gift from you. Then come the extended strong and warm Hugs that only truly felt Love and devotion can create. It is a time to connect and express our love on the level of our true emotions. These become bottled up over a year of angst,  performance motivation and emotional disconnection through the drive for economic success. That bland,cold and emotionless drive with which we stifle our humanity for those eleven and half other months of the year.

This brings a clear satisfaction to us, because it validates us……………..Hold on!!!!

Is the true gift of Christmas all of what I’ve written above?

Or, in a more concise sense, a gift we give ourselves and our loved ones of a time of dropping our guard, dropping our agendas and haste, to bare our emotions, and feel the true warm love and compassion we feel for each other, which then overflows into a much broader sense of love and compassion for all those around us.

Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief………..we are all human, and not excluding all other life on this beautiful planet, our ability to love and feel such great compassion is given this tiny window in the vast many hours of the year, for us to connect with all other life we share our planet with.

Perhaps we could look at carrying that feeling not just at Christmas time, but the whole year round. Not just family and friends, but to everyone we cross paths with too.

With love

Deborah 🙂

 

 

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” ― Thomas Merton

Hello everybody, welcome to TradeRoutz livingStyle blogS,

Watching craftsmen create furniture, or sculptures, or any other work of art, is a privilege. We, the end customer, only get to see the finished product, knowing nothing, or very little about the process of making the piece of art or furniture, if it’s been made by hand.

When I was in Bali sourcing products for TradeRoutz livingStyle,  the first thing that hit me, when I disembarked from my flight was the aroma of the Island. The scent of jasmine was overwhelming intermingled with other scents as sweet as roses, creating a feeling of instant calm, excitement and joy.  I instantaneously thought how fortunate the islanders were to live in, what seemed to me, to be a tropical paradise. 

It took me only a couple of days to realise that the islanders are hard workers, for a very small amount of money,  and that they make their living from their craft. Whilst riding my bicycle through the villagers, I met a young man called Wayan and his wife Anbeh. 

Wayan and Anbeh have 5 children. Anbeh does not work, as she tends to the children, the youngest of which is just 8 months old, and so his family depend upon him for their living. I wondered how these brave people keep smiling, even laughing with each other, whilst living in abject poverty. Their house has an old roof, and leaks when it rains, but Wayan and some friends, simply patch it without complaint. 

Their children play outside. No T.V. exists in Wayan’s families home, and certainly no computers. His children play games which they make up in their vivid imaginations. As I sat drinking a cup of Balinese coffee with Anbeh, chatting about food, recipes and other simple, easy flowing conversation,  we watched the children at play. They never ran away, or ventured far from their home, and they don’t complain.

Neither Wayan nor Anbeh ever raised their voices at their children, there was no need, and I wondered whether this is due to the fact, that these children have never been influenced by Western culture, Television and computers. I somehow thought that the lack of these influences played a big part in their happiness and contentment. I felt welcome and love, with a sense of joy that washed over me, every time I visited with Wayans family.

Wayan is a sculptor by trade. He derives delight and dignity in what he does, as he sits outside of his house, which is set just back from the main street, sculpting whatever medium he is currently working on. When I was there this particular time, Wayan was working on a wooden sculpture. I asked him if he minded me watching him work, and, being the humble man he is, he was delighted and said ‘ of course’, in his broken English.

So I too, sat in the sun, on the grass, and watched Wayan sculpt a large piece of wood, which when I first saw it, I could not envision how he’d turn it into anything that could be appealing. It looked like a chunk of wood to me that one would burn on the fire! Wayan taught me the treasures our Earth holds, as he started gently chipping away, carving, clearing out existing holes, that needed an experts hands, and Wayan worked all day, until sunset.

Andeh brought us coffee periodically, and at lunch time, we went inside, out of the baking sun to eat some fruit. We sat for about half an hour, and then it was back to work.

I wanted to spend the night with Wayans family. I felt a welcome feeling unlike ever before. Bali is a hot island, lying just on the equator, and their little house, with no air-conditioning was stifling.  Still, I really didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to. So, off I went on my bicycle to my hotel. I had the strangest feeling as I was approaching my hotel. It felt so foreign, so cold, so unwelcoming. The staff were extremely kind, but compared to Wayans family, including his humble home, my fancy hotel room, seemed opulent, stupid, and a horrible feeling of ‘not belonging’ overwhelmed me. All I could think about was Wayan, Andeh and their gorgeous happy children, and that no matter the fact their meal would be meagre tonight, they’d share rooms, as well as perspire in the heat, but they’d be content.

I on the other hand, lay in an air-conditioned room, on clean sheets, with a mini bar, which offered soft drinks, beer and iced water. I was in the lap of luxury compared to Wayans family, but I did not have the love they had. I did not have the laughter they shared. I did not have the happiness, the freedom, the joy and the unhurried way, in which they lived each and every day. Suddenly, it was I who was uncomfortable, with an awful longing to be with Wayans family, who live life, needing only the necessities, the simple things that actually matter. I realised, by spending so much time with Wayan and Andeh, what it is to live. To be truly free. To not ‘want’ what others have. To not compare myself with others. To be happy with who I am, but mostly, I learnt what real work is all about, against all odds, and how one can turn a seemingly ugly piece of wood, into an incredibly beautiful work of art, with monumental patience, plus a love for one’s profession.

Much like diamonds. They start out as black, or marked ugly rocks. It’s only when polished, their beauty shows.

Even in the face of the Sculpture, of which Wayan made 4 of, and which I bought, I can see life. I can see the face of Wayan and Andeh, their Children, the laughter, the freedom of Spirit which is so beautifully portrayed in his work.

It is without freedom that we forget how to live. We believe we are free only due to the fact that we are not in maximum security jails, but we are in jail. We live in houses that we guard. We lock our doors for fear of what might happen and we do not allow life to unleash the freedom and joy that it offers freely.

I want to see and live freedom every day of my life. Trade Routz was born from purchasing goods from people who are just like Wayan. People who ARE free, poor, but free. People who, through their grace, show us what freedom is, through their art. Whether it’s furniture or sculptures, or any other thing that they sit and toil in the sun all day long to produce, this is their freedom. They don’t get screamed at if they cannot perform, and they are under no threat. They do need to eat however, but due to their patience, as well as their unique gifts to create, they sell their craft to others like us. 

Wayan and Andeh have become my friends. I’m in awe of them, as well as Wayans gift to create. I see freedom and beauty in all of his creations, and I’ve come to learn to see works of art in an entirely new way. All art is freedom, and an expression of beauty. 

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” 
― Pablo Picasso

Sculptures by Wayan – http://traderoutz.com/sculptures-62-c.asp

   And more…………………..

 

With love

Deborah 🙂