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October 30, 2005

Listen Hear

A couple of months ago my fourteen-year-old friend Tylor Lauck passed away after a five-year battle with cancer.

Tylor knew I wrote lyrics for the music on my video series. He told me a few months before he died that he was also going to write a song. A song of hope. He did write the song, which he dictated to his mother because he was too weak to write and the tumors in his brain caused him to loose the function of his right arm.

His wonderful sister Heather typed up the song and sent it to me last night. Here it is in loving memory of Tylor:

Although I’m still young,
I've been through a lot
But I never pretended
To be something I’m not
I've been sick a long time
And felt lots of pain,
I know in my heart
There’s no one to blame

Life’s full of hurdles
And I just have to jump
Jump for the stars
The sky is my limit
I want to live my life
Not wasting a minute

Chorus:

I can be any thing that I want to be
I can climb a tall mountain
I can swim the blue sea
The power is mine
To be all I can be
There’s no time to stand still
I have to move fast
To make the best of my days
As long as they last

I have learned quickly
That life’s what you make it
Some times it throws you a curve
But you just have to take it
In a blink of an eye some thing went wrong
But I’ve held my head up
And continue to be strong

Life is short
So don’t take yours for granted
And all ways remember
Life is what you make it
I am lucky
To have a life full of love
Full of good friends
And strength from above

Chorus:

I can be any thing that I want to be
I can climb a tall mountain
I can swim the blue sea
The power is mine
To be all I can be
There’s no time to stand still
I have to move fast
To make the best of my days
As long as they last

(We all miss your warm smile and kind heart so much Tylor. Even though you are no longer here, the essence of your life will always be remembered by each and every one of us every time we read the wonderful words of your song. God bless you buddy.)

Posted by trevor at 10:02 PM | Comments (5)

October 27, 2005

The Power of Kindness

I’ve been harping on and on to everyone around me about the power of kindness. Today, one of my business partners, Woody Englander, sent me the following note. This is a special event because Woody does not often write things down. Well, perhaps he does, but then he loses the paper on which he has written it. The piece that Woody actually managed to put down on paper today really touched me, so I thought I’d share it:

“This is an example of the power of kindness.

As usual, I was about to run out of gas but I was lucky enough, once again, to sputter into the gas station. I had just come from working out, what a concept for a tub of lard like me, but if you saw the Pilates you instructor, I guarantee you would manage to muster the strength to work out as well.

I stopped my car, got out to swipe my credit card and realized I did not have my wallet. I had no cash, no credit card and I was completely out of gas.

Lucky for me, I am a slob who lives most of his life in his car, so I managed to find a couple of quarters and a couple of nickels. Then I found a few pennies underneath some nervous bitten off fingernails. There were a few more dimes under the seat and some nickels lodged in the door jam.

When all was said and done, I had gathered up $1.22 in change. With the price of gas today, that would buy less than half a gallon but I thought it would get me home.

I went into the store to get $1.22 worth of gas. The man in the store was probably in his late fifties, missing several teeth, and his English was not great. He was a hard working Mexican-American just trying to make a living.

Here I am, a middle-aged white guy who had just come from a fancy-schmancy country club, trying to lose some weight, without any money to buy gasoline. How pathetic is that?

Anyway, I put the money on the counter and told the man $1.22 was all I had but it should be enough to get me home. Frank, according to his nametag, reached into his wallet and put a dollar on the counter and said in his broken English, “Now you have $2.22.”

This guy did not need to be giving anyone money, especially someone like me who doesn’t need it. He insisted that I take it, so I did and told him I would return later to pay him back. He said not to worry about it but I assured him I would.

I did go back later and he seemed quite surprised to see me, but he thanked me and I thanked him again and went on my way.

All I can say is that at the end of the day, I believe most people are kind and most people are to be trusted, but unfortunately, we are so trained to watch for our money and watch out for the other guy that our heads won’t let our hearts do what they are born to do and that is to be kind to people.

Well as fate would have it, about 30 minutes after Frank showed his kindness to a stranger, it was my turn.

I walked out of my office, late for a meeting as usual, and saw a girl who had a flat tire. She was on her cell phone asking her dad questions about flat tire repair.

She was in some kind of business suit looking like she just had a job interview. The lady with her asked if I could help. Well, I have changed many flats in my life, but it has been about 10 years since the last one and I am about as mechanically inclined as my dog.

I took over the process and in about 10 minutes she was ready to go. I could not believe how quickly and calmly I changed the tire because I normally get frustrated when I can’t turn my computer on.

She thanked me and I went on to my meeting. I called the man I was meeting with and told him I was going to be late and he said, “No worries, you were very kind to help that girl.”

As I drove off I contemplated the events of the morning. Without question, had the man at the gas station not helped me, I would not have been able to help the lady with the flat tire.

When we follow our hearts and we are kind, the world presents us with opportunities that we would normally not have. Take advantage of the opportunity to meet a new person and have faith that the stranger has a kind heart too.”

– Woody Englander

(Due to the witness protection program the picture above is not a drawing of Woody but merely a representation. Besides, I do not believe Woody owns a suit, let alone a pair of long pants. Thank you for your insight Woody.)

Posted by trevor at 07:55 PM | Comments (5)

October 25, 2005

Ferdie

We were on our way back from a friend’s game ranch near the Kruger National Park when it happened.

I almost didn’t stop, but something caught my as I avoided the dead monkey in the road. I pulled off to the side and reversed the car.

“You’re not getting out are you?” said my girlfriend, Jean.

“I just want to make sure it’s dead.” I said. “I think I saw it move.”

“And if it’s alive what are you going to do? Run over it to finish the job. Just let’s go…okay?”

“I just want to check, Jean,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

“If it’s injured it will bite you,” she said. “It’s so darn dark. What if there’s something else out there?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t be a typical, stupid, macho man,” she yelled angrily, pulling on my sleeve.

“It’s okay,” I said.

I grabbed my flashlight and got out.

The monkey was dead. It must have been hit by another car. There was no blood and the body was intact. The passing car probably glanced the animal and killed it in the process. I pushed its body with my shoe to make sure it was dead.

A sudden movement beneath the monkey made me jump back with fright. “ There’s a bloody snake under there,” I yelled and ran back to my car not wanting to have anything to do with any creatures that slither.

I jumped into the car and slammed the door.

I was out of breath.

“I bloody-well told you,” said Jean. “Now let’s go. This is making me uncomfortable.”

With my heart pounding, I shone my flashlight out of the window and pulled the car around the dead animal giving it one last glance.

I was shaking. I hate snakes!

“Hah!” said Jean.

“Hah, yourself,” I said.

That’s when I saw it. A baby monkey. It was no bigger than my balled up fist. The baby had crawled from under the body and was trying to nurse on its dead mother.

“There’s…there’s a baby monkey!” I yelled. “And it’s alive!”

“Stop the car,” urged Jean. “Go see if it’s okay. Hurry up!”

(I won’t even mention what I felt like saying to Ms. Jean Brownlie at that moment. I also forgot to mention that she was the one in possession of her own licensed firearm at the time. It probably wouldn’t have helped much because she wasn’t a very good shot.)

I got out of the car again and shone my flashlight at the baby. It cowered, trying to crawl under its dead mother again.

I noticed three other baby monkeys on the road, but they hadn’t made it.

I tried to reach for the baby, but it hissed at me and clung onto its mother.

I got a blanket from the car and threw it over the dead monkey. I gathered up the blanket and managed to separate the baby from its mother. I reached in and brought the trembling the baby out. This was the sweetest little thing I have ever seen in my life. I have never experienced anything more adorable!

The monkey was petrified. It’s little bottom jaw quivered as it whimpered.

Jean held the baby in the blanket against her chest for most of the journey then, once it was sleeping, she wrapped it in her jersey and cuddled it in her lap. It’s didn’t take the baby long to feel Jean’s love and warmth. (When Jean was in the mood for cuddling, nobody did it better!)

We fed Ferdie with an eyedropper and baby formula that night at the Pilgrims Rest Hotel. We put some cotton balls in a shoebox and both slept on the floor on either side of the box.

We wanted to take the baby home and keep it as a pet, but we decided that the city was no place for an animal that belonged in the wild. It was a tough decision, but the right one.

The next day we took the baby to an acquaintance of mine who owns a private zoo/shelter where he takes care of orphaned animals and trains other animals for movies and television.

Ferdie survived and grew up to work at the zoo. According to my friend, Ferdie became an expert cuddler and a great bottle feeder. During his tenure as a baby sitter, he was known to cuddle many orphaned babies including possums, ferrets, puppies, kittens, a meerkat and even a lion cub.

Posted by trevor at 06:15 PM | Comments (3)

October 24, 2005

The Run

I love to run.

Especially on days like today. It was a magnificent sunrise. White swans floated silently through the mist rising from the Colorado River.

The stirring city was quite. All I heard was my breath and the rhythm of my feet striking the path as I ran along the hike and bike trail that meanders alongside the river.

I love to run.

Especially on days like today. Where my breath comes easily and my muscles work comfortably, in unison, like a well-greased machine.

I love to run.

Especially on days like today when the words of my high school coach - telling me I am not good enough for the team and that I should join the marching band - mean nothing.

Knowing that I don’t need to be picked to run. Enjoying the fact that this is a squad from which I cannot and will not be cut.

I love to run.

Especially in different places like Boston, Cape Town, Paris, London, Bangor, Melbourne, Nairobi and Bronkhorstspruit.

I love to run.

Especially at dawn with the spirit of my late dad running alongside me, the two of us breathing as one.

Posted by trevor at 06:26 PM | Comments (1)

Tea For Thought

(I have written about this before but it keeps coming up, so I thought I’d share this particular insight again.)

I often hear people saying, “Trevor you are so lucky you have reached your dream and are doing what you love.”

I am lucky. But to tell you the truth, I created a lot of my own luck. I worked really hard to be ready when luck opened a few doors for me. I was totally prepared. As they began to open I barged through like a crazed bull in Pamplona.

I believe success is where preparation meets opportunity.

Honestly, the luckiest thing for me is that I never gave up on myself. I have a really good excuse for failing to be a writer. I am dyslexic and as a child I had tremendous difficulty with creative writing and spelling. But I’ve never used that as an excuse for not achieving something I set out to do. And believe me, I’ve set out to do some crazy things, like creating the perfect tea- making machine. (See above.)

My learning difference (dyslexia) was a real hurdle for me once I started writing full-time. I knew I wanted to write books from the age of eight, however, people kept telling me that I would never make it because of my "problem." I was also told I was not talented enough to go to art school. And now I love doing sketches. (Like the self-portrait above.)

I consider challenges as hurdles and believe hurdles are there for a reason. To be jumped over!
I went through a tough time trying to get my first book published. I wanted to see my books in print so badly it hurt, but I kept on getting rejection after rejection. Being rejected is so darn painful. Most people who receive one or two rejections simply give up because the pain and disappointment is too much to bear.

I have over three hundred rejections for books I have written over the years. But that didn’t stop me. I kept on submitting book after book after book. I saw myself as an elasticized punching ball that boxer's train with. Every time I took a blow, I came hurtling back in a different direction. Back and back I came, until I landed my first publishing deal. I didn't rest after that.

I did the same for my second book and my third and even my thirtieth. (I still can’t believe that I have over one million copies of my books in print in 14 different languages. So there Mr. Louw! So much for your report-card comment that said, ‘Trevor Romain will do well if stops dreaming so much.”)

I often go back in time (in my mind) and put my arm around myself as a young child. I see a scared and hurt little boy with his head hung after being spanked by his teachers for not being able to spell. Spanked for drawing instead of listening. It really feels good to hold that young boy and let him know that everything turned out really well.

Posted by trevor at 07:17 AM | Comments (5)

October 21, 2005

Tuesdays With George

When I was a young boy in Johannesburg, George the vegetable man, would come to our neighborhood with his old truck filled to the brim with fruit and vegetables.

Neighbors would come out of their houses and buy fruit and vegetables for the week.

I loved Tuesdays when George would come because each week he made time to talk to me while the neighbors prodded, smelled and squeezed the fruit.

While my mum was selecting her fruit or veggies and the other neighbors were complaining about the prices, George would pick a perfect peach or nectarine from a box and with his penknife he would cut it into slices for me. While he cut the fruit, he’d recite proverbs or poems to me. As the peach nectar dripped down my five year-old chin, I’d listen in amazement to what George had to say.

Some George-isms that I still remember:

“I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”

“Nothing is ever wrong. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Life is like a bicycle. You don’t fall off unless you stop pedaling.”

Posted by trevor at 09:43 AM | Comments (1)

October 19, 2005

The Laugh

Today I realized that the universe still has a great sense of humor.

I was visiting with my young four year-old friend who has cancer. She has the heartiest laugh I have ever heard on a kid that young. For some reason she and I cannot be in a room together for more than two minutes before one of us starts laughing and the other follows in quick succession.

Just hearing her infectious giggle makes other people burst out laughing.

“You should be a stand up comic,” I told her. “All you have to do is stand up in front of people and laugh. You don’t have to say anything. Just laugh. You’ll be famous in no time.”

Later she told her mother, “He said I should be a stand up comic, but can I sit down and do it because I’m really tired?”

Posted by trevor at 03:49 PM | Comments (5)

Family Portrait

I finally got Jack and Skye to behave for long enough to have this press photo taken. Believe me, animated kids do not sit still for a minute. They exhaust me!

(I have been asked on several occasions where the names for the characters Jack and Skye come from. Quite simply, I named them Jack and Skye to honor my late father Jack who is now in the sky.)

Posted by trevor at 09:35 AM | Comments (1)

October 18, 2005

The Determined One

Four years ago I went home to South Africa and spent a lot of time photographing and sketching kids. One particular child caught my attention. He was a fourteen-year old dropout who had left school because his family could hardly afford to feed him and his six siblings, let alone pay for their schooling. His name was Mark Magubane.

I was sketching some kids in my old neighborhood in Johannesburg one day when Mark approached me and asked if I would draw him. While I was sketching, we enjoyed a great conversation about the new South Africa and how black Africans can finally have a chance to own a business.

“I’m going to start my own company,” he said, confidently.

“That’s great.” I said. “ What kind of company?”

“I’m not sure, but it will be a good one. I’m collecting money right now to get started.” he said.

I’d heard that statement before. From almost every street kid in Johannesburg!

But something was different about Mark. I couldn’t quite figure it out, but it was there.

Mark’s plight touched me. I contributed twenty-five dollars to the cause.

Today, four years later, I was speaking to my mum on the phone. She was telling me about a friend of hers who employs Mark’s Aunty Lolo. My mum's friend said Aunty Lolo told her that Mark is now a successful businessman in Johannesburg and doing very well for himself.

Apparently he has TWO portable shoeshine boxes and employs his cousin Phineas to help maintain one of them. Mark’s shoeshine boxes are made from wooden wine crates given to him by my mother’s friend.

Franchising is on Mark’s mind because, according to my mum, Mark is planning on expanding his business to four shoeshine boxes in the near future.

Well-done Mark Magubane!

When I go home in January I know where I’m going to have my shoes taken care of.

Posted by trevor at 04:06 PM | Comments (1)

October 16, 2005

The Gift

Tuesday is the birthday of my dear friend Bess Wilson. Bess will be 101 years old. Bess lives in a tiny apartment in a retirement home here in Austin. She is the nicest, warmest person you’ll ever meet.

I asked Bess what she’d like for a birthday present.

“I have everything I could ever need,” she said sweetly.

“Really?” I replied

“It’s all in here,” she said, patting her heart.

“But there must be something you’d like,” I said. “Honestly.”

She looked at me for the longest time. The she smiled.

“Well,” she said, softly. “For me, the best gift is kindness itself. People are too caught up to be kind these days. They are so busy rushing around they forget to be nice to each other. Us old folks are too slow for most people. We seem to irritate everyone. I think they like it fine that most of us are trapped in these old folks homes so we don't bother 'em.”

“That’s so sad Bess,” I replied, my heart feeling heavy.

“In the old days people used to enquire after their neighbors. And the community was aware of what old people needed. Not anymore. Nowadays people are always on their cell phones and the kids have those earphones in their ears. I don’t think kids speak to anyone anymore, let alone old folks. I don’t even think they speak to each other."

I looked into Bess’s watery blue eyes and took her bony, trembling little hands in mine.

Bess leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.

“Thank you,” she said, patting my hand. “You just gave me my gift.”

On my way home, I cried for all of the lonely, over-looked old people whose valuable, wonderful lives are slowly fading away as they live out their days in retirement homes across the country.

Bless their hearts.

Posted by trevor at 10:38 PM | Comments (2)

October 14, 2005

Hi there. Buttons, Jack, Trevor and I wanted thank all of you who voted for our video series on the ‘Kids First’ best of the year video awards. We really appreciate your support.

Have a great week and remember, cartoon characters need love too!

Skye

Posted by trevor at 09:01 AM | Comments (2)

October 11, 2005

A Great Gift

I was visiting the hospital this morning and I met an amazing young lady who absolutely made my day. She is a delightful four year-old suffering from childhood cancer and according to the doctors, is one of the sweetest kids they have ever treated.

I am so glad I got to meet her today. She was standing in the hallway attached to an IV pole, rubbing her bald little head and looking rather worried.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” she said in the sweetest voice. “But my teddy bear has a hell of a headache.”

I laughed so hard I almost cried. She looked at me and started laughing too. We both laughed uncontrollably and each time one of us would stop, the other would giggle and then we’d both burst out laughing again.

It’s amazing how a terminally ill child made me value my very existence today. It really puts life into perspective.

I am always so appreciative of a humorous nudge from the universe that helps me realize that the world does not revolve around me.

Posted by trevor at 05:02 PM | Comments (5)

October 09, 2005

The Trevolution: Episode One

Posted by trevor at 05:38 PM | Comments (0)

October 08, 2005

Secret Revealed

I am taking a huge chance today. I have decided to reveal a big secret. A secret that can actually help turn a perceived 'non-artist' into an artist in under thirty seconds. I am taking a chance by doing this because revealing this secret will annoy companies that make and sell expensive art supplies. It will probably also irritate some artists who don’t want ordinary, so-called, un-artistic, soccer moms or accountants or steel workers to suddenly be able to join their elite and mysterious renaissance ranks.

I have decided to reveal the secret because almost every day someone asks me what the secret to my drawing is. What secret graphite pencil do I use? What secret charcoal powder do I use? What secret technique do I use? What secret paper do I use?"

Well, I’ll tell you. The secret is a good old #2 pencil and a piece of paper. And an open mind, of course.

Yes. I heard the collective gasp! “What?"

You heard right. Believe it or not I drew the picture above from a postcard with a chewed up #2 pencil on a piece of paper from my laser printer. I just looked at the postcard and drew what I saw. I was not trying to draw a perfect replica of the picture. If I wanted a replica, I would have taken a photo with my digital camera.

In fact, I did not try to do anything other than letting my hand follow direction from my imagination. Believe me, the first time I tried to draw by looking at a picture, the results were really disappointing. This happened because I was trying so hard not to make a mistake. I was holding the pencil so tightly that, like a bent garden hose, I blocked the creative juices flowing from my imagination to my hand. I was rather frustrated and quite disappointed that my drawing looked so amateur.

Later that day I saw a man doing Tai Chi in the park near my house. He seemed to be painting a giant invisible piece of art in the air with his hands. The movement was so fluid and effortless. I wondered what the drawing would have looked like if he had a brush in his hand and a canvas in front of him.

I thought about the Tai Chi man that evening while trying to draw again. Just thinking about his fluid hand moments soothed me and I felt my whole body relax. The result was amazing. My drawing was so much better. The more relaxed and uninhibited I became, the better I drew. It’s really as easy as that.

Quite simply the secret to discovering the art within yourself is you and the good ol’ #2.

Please do me a favor. If you have always wanted to draw but were afraid to do so, buy or steal a pencil, grab a piece of paper and sit yourself down somewhere comfortable. Preferably without a peanut gallery nearby. Take an orange or an apple from your fruit bowl and draw what you see. Try not to draw too small because tiny drawing tends to tighten you up. Draw your orange or apple about half its actual size and try not to hold your breath while drawing. Forget about the end result and enjoy the process.

Now, here’s the trick.

Try one simple line drawing with your average pencil. Then (and this is vitally important) quickly admire your work and enjoy it for what it is because, if you’re like I was, your inhibitions, your inner critic and your striving for perfection will quickly rob you of the pleasure of your drawing. The more you allow yourself to enjoy your art, before the judging ruins the process, the more you will have the power to control your own judgments.

After a little practice at both the drawing and suspending judgment, you’ll discover that your art will become more and more pleasurable.

Posted by trevor at 11:37 AM | Comments (4)

October 07, 2005

The Reward

Somebody asked me why on earth I choose to work with kids suffering from cancer. This is why, in the words of Irma Bombeck:

“This is a warning. If you can’t handle optimism, don’t go around children with cancer. If you feel tears are more appropriate than laughter, don’t even think of dropping in on a camp where they are. If you don’t want to put yourself at risk for feeling good about yourself, your life and the world…wear a mask!

Children of cancer are carriers of courage. There, you have been warned. Hang out with them and you will undergo a metamorphosis that you cannot control. You’ll find yourself saying things like “Have a good day!” or “See you next year.”

I visited a day camp in Phoenix one afternoon, and as I sat on a small chair with my knees under my chin, a small camper with cancer, about three years old, put his arm around my shoulder and positioned his face two inches from mine. “Do you know what?” he asked.

“What?” I answered back.

“I’m going to the circus this afternoon,” he bubbled.

“That’s wonderful," I gushed.

A counselor leaned over and said, “You’re not going to the circus, Kenny. That’s the other group. You’re going swimming."

Most kids would have ripped out a sink and thrown it against the wall in disappointment. Instead, he turned to me and said with equal enthusiasm, “Do you know what?”

“What?” I asked.

“I am going swimming this afternoon!”

Kids with cancer seem to have a gift for cutting through the “what if,” “what should’ve been,” “what might have been" and getting right to “what is now.” Bert was five years old and fighting neuroblastoma. He loved to draw. One day when he was asked, “Are you going to be an artist when you grow up?” he said indignantly, “I am an artist.”

An adult friend asked a young girl named Christiana what she would like for her eighth birthday. The small child, diagnosed with neuroblastoma, rubbed her hand over her bald head, then rested her face in her hands and said, “I don’t know. I have two dolls, two sticker books and a Cabbage Patch doll. I guess I have everything.”

Posted by trevor at 10:09 AM | Comments (1)

October 06, 2005

Room Without A View

I know a youg man who has decided not to return to school after being suspended for bad behavior. He is an exceptionally smart young man and has incredible potential. I believe he could be a doctor, a lawyer or perhaps even a rocket scientist if he really wanted to. I sincerely believe he has THAT much potential

He honestly thinks that he will be very successful without completing high school though. When I asked him what his first goal toward being successful was going to be, he told me to win the lottery.

His comment reminded me of a story I have shared before, but would like to share again:

A woman called me some time back and begged me to help her get her book published. She told me she has a best-selling children’s book that she knows everyone is going to love. I told her it was difficult for me to help 'myself' getting published, let alone other people. I went on to explain that even though I have thirty books in print, my new books do not automatically get published.

She begged me to at least have coffee with her to talk about the book. Although my gut feel told me different, I agreed to meet her for two reasons. 1) I appreciate her belief in her own project and 2) I always tell people to be persistent and never give up.

“Okay,” I said at the coffee shop. “Show me your book.”

“Umm. Well, I haven’t written it yet,” she said. “But let me tell you my idea. It’s really good. Okay so there was this little bunny called Hoppity…”

It was tough for me to tell her this, but I told her something I find myself mentioning often. “Success is where preparation meets opportunity. You cannot expect to succeed if you haven’t put in the time and effort."

But you’re so lucky’” she said.

“The harder I work, the luckier I get,” I replied

Henry Ford once said, “You can’t built a reputation on what you’re GOING to do.”

It reminds me of man who went through an incredibly tough time and prayed to God for help.

“Please God, let me win the lottery,” He begged.

Two days later, the man’s car was repossessed. Again the man prayed. “Please God, let me win the lottery, they have taken my car.”

A week later, the man lost his home. Again he prayed. “Please Got let me win the lottery. My home is gone.”

Suddenly a deep voice came out of the sky and spoke to the man. “Would you at least buy a lottery ticket?”

Posted by trevor at 10:39 PM | Comments (6)

October 05, 2005

Reaching Out

There are so many people suffering in the world today. The planet is brimming with famine, ethnic cleansing, fires, wars, hurricane survival, HIV, trauma, tragedy and loss. All of our hearts have been opening up and reaching out to help and support those in need.

It is thus, with an open heart, that I suddenly realized that there are people all around us, some in our own families, who need a compassionate hand and not only those we see suffering on television and in the newspapers.

With that in mind I am reaching out. But not very far. Someone I love very dearly is being verbally, emotionally (and probably physically) abused.

Dear person I love dearly,

Author Miguel Ruiz in his book The Mastery of Love says, “If you lived in a restaurant and someone came to the door and offered you a Pizza (but only if he could abuse you for the rest of your life) you’d laugh in his face. But if you were living on the street and hadn’t eaten for days, and that same person made you that same offer, you’d be likely to consider it. Ruiz says we settle for what we feel we are worth – that is, we will never allow anyone to abuse us more than we abuse ourselves.”

Person I love dearly, you are a wonderful, warm, caring, beautiful woman. One of the best I am privileged to know. You deserve an incredible life, not the dark hell you crawl through on a daily basis.

I believe you cannot find your way in the lonely darkness because you are constantly blowing out the candle of hope that lights your way, with your own sighs of hopelessness.

We will be your light if you need us to help to illuminate your path.

Hold out your hand and we will take. But remember we cannot take it if you hold it where we can't find it?

Posted by trevor at 10:50 AM | Comments (2)

October 04, 2005

Dancing Man

I was taught to color inside the lines. I was told by my 1st grade art teacher that my pictures were ‘wrong’ because I would leave the inside of the picture white and color outside the lines. She went on and on about how wrong my pictures were. Finally I believed her.

Later, after being told I wasn’t talented enough to take art at high school I gave up drawing and painting completely.

About twenty years later, I started drawing and painting again. The echo of the teachers voice still governed my painting. I tried very hard to paint within the lines. I still find myself doing that sometimes.

Then I went on a trip back home and tried to do some simple watercolor studies in public. When you paint on location there is no time to think because you have to move fast to freeze a scene and capture it on paper.

That’s when I realized, sometimes, you don’t even need no stinkin’ lines. (And if you really want ‘em, you can add them in later.)

For those of you who shy away from painting because you feel you can’t draw well enough to establish the basis of your picture, why not forget the lines altogether. Try 'painting' the picture without drawing it out. Firstly you’ll be surprised by the result and secondly you won’t believe how much fun it is.

Posted by trevor at 09:24 AM | Comments (5)

October 03, 2005

Friends

I saw two little kids playing in the park today. These two friends were playing like there was no tomorrow.

There is nothing more enjoyable than a great friendship.

The kids reminded me of Chesney Thomas.

My friendship with Chesney started in second grade when I stuck a grape up his nose and it wouldn't come out. We both sat on the bench outside the principal's office crying.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. "The damn grape is stuck up my nose."

"Because you are twenty times bigger than me and I 'm going to end up with your fist up my nose, which is a lot bigger and more painful than a grape," I sobbed.

"But I let you put the grape up my nose," he replied.

"What were you thinking?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said and we both burst out laughing.

We’re still friends today, forty years later.

Posted by trevor at 01:08 PM | Comments (2)

October 02, 2005

Finally

I apologise for being off the air for a few days, but the server was NOT fixed as promised. Well, now I believe we are back on the horse!

Posted by trevor at 03:02 PM | Comments (0)