Despite all of the marvelous design specific publications out there, I find myself consistently drawn to a little Victorian publication about fresh Australian writing. Harvest is excellent. It is varied, it is pretty, it is emotive and contains some truly brilliant work and some rather nice illustration. I took Harvest on the train with me to work the other morning and read it with my window seat. The first article was an opinion piece, which you can kindly read here: To Our Generation of Precious Snowflakes and it made me stop. I was struck by either brilliant personal recognition or absolute horror and I couldn’t work it out. It forced me to think about life and about blogging and about youth/my peers.

The opinion piece addresses the thoughts of writer Ted Genoways.

At the same time, young writers will have to swear off navel-gazing in favor of an outward glance onto a wrecked and lovely world worthy and in need of the attention of intelligent, sensitive writers.

By way of overview – this is the opinion piece:

Pardon us for filtering out the unimaginable suffering we watch on live broadcasts with a sickening compulsion and can replay on YouTube. In the chasm between vacuous celebrity and the realities of insidious fundamentalism, perhaps it is only our own lives, logged hourly and picked over, that we can clutch on to for purpose, meaning and creative inspiration, in order to tune out the loud, fast world.

For now, might we be excused our navel gazing? When you have seen men glide down from burning towers on slipstreams of hate, perhaps it’s not too big a leap to conclude that one’s navel is the only safe place to be looking.

And to dear Ted, we are the wrecked and lovely world. It’s there in our writing if you can bring yourself to read it, and while it may not be ‘sterling’ enough for you, it’s as real as the Iraq war, and often as heartbreaking.

I find that I am struggling to hold my intense introverted and internal methods living and processing – my narcissism, with the outward looking life I desire to have. Perhaps this is why this article plucked deep hurt on the strings of my soul.

From letter 89 by Tolkien:
“…I coined the word ‘eucatastrophe’: the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of truth…. It perceives– if the story has literary ‘truth’ –that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made. And I concluded by saying that the Resurrection was the greatest ‘eucatastrophe’ possible in the greatest fairy story– and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love…”

Cannot we find some way to correlate our local and personal sorrow and experiences of living with the greater sorrow of this world, to lean on eucatastrophe and hope – wait and live that reconciliation of the overlapping now but not yet.

There is another response (in a more literary sense) to the Harvest piece here: A response to harvest.

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woe. the Tour is over.


It is a gold mine amongst the plethora of dollar sucking Amazon purchases (*read outrageous postage). I don’t often buy books online – or much online really, considering how much I am online.

But this my friends is THE place:

Pay ye no postage.

Pay ye low prices.

Appologies for not blogging lately. I am too stuffed. I am enjoying work muchly but I am still adjusting to this whole full time thing, it’s taking me longer than I anticipated.


Run like a race for family
When you hear like you’re alone
The rusted gears of morning
To faceless busy phones
We gladly run in circles
But the shape we meant to make is gone

Love is a tired symphony
To hum when you’re awake
Love is a crying baby
Mama warned you not to shake
Love is the best sensation
Hiding in the lion’s mane

So I’ll clear the road, the gravel
And the thorn-bush in your path
That burns a scented oil
That I’ll drip into your bath
The water’s there to warm you
And the earth is warmer
When you laugh

Love is a scene I render
When you catch me wide awake
Love’s a dream you enter
Though I shake and shake and shake you
Love is the best endeavor
Waiting in the lion’s mane

Iron & Wine

image via Ffffound!

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As you would know (if you read this blog – despite the fact that I seem to post quite infrequently) I am working at Blick Creative full time as a designer. This post is mostly to mark how much I am enjoying it, despite this week being a lot of simply learning the ropes. The people are great, the studio is lovely and the work is varied and fun. In terms of it being a Saturday, it appears the slightly earlier start (and probably the happy-stress of newness) has caught up with me and I am quite exhausted. It will be lovely to get into a proper routine.

Geoff and I were talking the other day about how since we got married 2 and a half years ago we have:

  • Lived in three different houses
  • Moved from the East to the North (of Melbourne)
  • Geoff has had 3 jobs (Including a career change)
  • I have had 3 jobs (plus freelancing)
  • I have completed my uni degree
  • Geoff has been on teaching intensive and has also done some additional study at Tabor
  • Two family weddings
  • Two family funerals
  • Overseas trip to the Solomons
  • Three churches (YVV, Ranges, Missio Dei)

Not all these things have been bad, infact on the whole they’ve been a step in a direction toward the better. But we are fairly tired and are both looking forward to some kind of vague stability for a while.

So here we are. Perhaps we’ll have a holiday in New Zealand later in the year, but besides that we’re probably staying put even if you try to drag us. Lets think about actually living for a while.

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