Angels

Here is Another of one of those When I Was A Kid articles...groan

I grew up as a Catholic in a very narrow minded time in Melbourne history in a street where Catholics were well outnumbered so it has some bearing on the person I have become.

Every morning my mother would see us off at the front door and we would say a little prayer with her which Catholics of a certain age would know

Angel of God,
my guardian dear,
to whom God's love commits me here,
ever this day,
be at my side
to light and guard,
to rule and guide.

(Still under construction and cogitation)

 

Talk about turning the optimism of a brand new day, full of adventure, into a scene from “Look Both Ways”! 

Were the bears in the pavement cracks going to break my mother’s back,? Was I in danger of being hit by a random train that had detoured a couple of kilometres  off track? Were there kidnappers waiting behind every tree with free lollies? Maybe the adrenalin rush that accompanied that fearful reminder of a world under siege kept me safely on my toes to scrape through the day.

At night when we were tucked into bed we repeated the mantra that reminded us that crocodiles could escape from under our beds and eat us so silently that no one could save us. Luckily I also prayed to Astroboy and Superman whose technicolour exploits were much greater evidence of real miracles in my little mind! (TV was the modern equivalent of Google’s authority on everything)

 

Anyhow I did the same to my kids for a while and even when you shake the vestiges of a certain way of understanding the world ,some things are still stuck in the DNA. Maybe it’s the Irish genes with centuries of leprechauns and other superstitious beliefs that prime my brain for such vulnerabilities but now angels seem to shake loose from my psyche every so often and form themselves into clay.

This one is based on a mis interpretation by one of my children and is called Cardigan Angel. She sat forlornly in Linden Postcards exhibition this year and then returned home.

These ones were in response to our horrific bushfires a few years back some of which were blamed on electrical pylons and wiring which span our countryside.

It was sold at the Lord Mayors Bushfire relief auction. Are they pylons melting or angels  tentatively rising from the ashes?

This next one inhabits my veggie garden and is a good place to hide a bit of snail killer when her magical spells are not always at their peak. She has had a special job to nurse my tamarillo through the oven hot summer and I think she occasionally gives refuge to a frog or two under her sheltering skirt.

 

This one looks to the sky and keeps an eye out for anything suspicious that might arrive unbidden from behind that veil of sky that hides the universe.

 

She was especially lucky for me in gaining me an award at the Warranwood Steiner Art Show in March. But like the princess at the ball she didn't go home with anyone and has come back here to keep an eye out for aliens and stray asteroids. I hope she knows what to do when they come!

 

This week I need to invoke the angels of the sea because Jacques Cousteau my first born has decided that 30 years of age is a good time to tempt the gods and is spending a week in Fiji part of which is swimming with and hand feeding sharks!

I am astounded by his courage and his trust in the sea. He hand feeds a giant wrass which has become his friend and knows a world that is bigger than any I will ever know because I am so fearful of it. He brings back wonderful images so that I don't have to go there. He promised me a long time ago that he would take care and worrying will serve no purpose so every time the fear erupts it's back to the mantra....Oh angel of God