I'm not a Hindu, but have a great love of the iconography, and every other religion's iconography for that matter. This image is the last thing I see at night. It causes me to ponder the nature of the universe, of life and death … but not every night. With glasses off, and in the evening light, I can imagine Shiva whirling to his right, the forces of creation and destruction kept in check - as long as that foot's up!. The whole setting here is poignant for me. Beneath Shiva is a tapestry woven by my mother when I was a child. Its colours are still vibrant, but it will fade; I wonder about the chatter, the laughs and tears, the hum of domestic life that accompanied each stitch. She wasn't a particularly patient person, so I choose to believe that this quiet, reflective pastime saw her in a good space. Beneath the tapestry is the table around which her mother, my grandmother held seances. What or who was she looking for? The mother who died giving birth to her is my guess. The stack of yet-to-read books hover. They will be full of beautiful and not-so-beautiful words, wisdoms and hopefully some laughs. In time they will be assigned to the shelves or find their way to an op-shop, but what they gave me won't be forgotten. Shiva's face, I know, is peaceful and impassive, content in the knowledge that there is a balance of forces up and down, left and right, that life and death, grief and joy are in harmony. That's a nice thought to sleep on, as long as he doesn't put that foot down. 

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AuthorAmanda Apthorpe

Lord of the Dance

I'm not a Hindu, but I do have a weakness for the iconography - and every other religion's iconography for that matter. This image is the what I see last thing at night. It causes me to ponder the nature of the world, of life, and death - but no, not every night. With night time vision, and especially with glasses off, I can imagine Shiva whirling to his right, a circle of life with creation and destruction held in check. This is particularly poignant for me. Shiva sits on a tapestry my late mother created in my youth and I wonder about the chatter, the laughs and tears that were woven into it in that time. Beneath the cloth is the table around which her own mother, my grandmother held seances. What or who was she looking for? - the mother who died giving birth to her is my guess. The stack of yet unread books hovers. They will be full of wisdoms, beautiful and not-so-beautiful sentences, and a few laughs I hope. They'll be assigned to my shelf eventually, and might find their way to the op-shop, but what they gave me won't be forgotten. I know that Shiva's face is peaceful and impassive, the balance of forces up and down, left and right are in harmony. I just hope he doesn't put his foot down while I'm watching. 

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AuthorAmanda Apthorpe

The launch of A Single Breath continues to be an exciting ride and I've been so thrilled with the feedback so far. 

Attended a fabulous masterclass on novel writing in Perth at the weekend. The acclaimed author Kathryn Heyman was so inspiring  and I've come away enriched and excited to pour it into One Core Belief (working title) the latest novel project, and in my teaching. The projects that other members of the class are working on are fascinating and I can't wait to buy them when they hit the shelves. 

I've been so fortunate this year to extend my writing journey into national and international forums - Wellington, London and Perth. Absorbing myself in the writing world and sharing the highs and lows (usually one of self-confidence) of the journey with others is uplifting. 

But (ok, I know it's a conjunction) having my second novel gently taken from my hands and sent on its way into the world has been the most wonderful event this year. Thanks Atlas. 

 

 

 

 

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AuthorAmanda Apthorpe