<![CDATA[P A P E R N O O K

<![CDATA[P A P E R N O O K - Blog]]>Fri, 24 Apr 2026 09:01:55 +1000Weebly<![CDATA[The jar collection.]]>Sun, 27 Feb 2022 05:34:52 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/the-jar-collection

From a young age, I was an avid collector.

In my early years it started with a love of frogs. I begged for plush toys, plastic model replicas, magnets and more. Everyone knew. I received gifts from relatives to feed my fascination, and was often found outdoors exploring for real frogs in the drain pipes following a Queensland summer storm.

At age six and with blonde pigtails, my fetish for collecting frogs was seemingly innocent, cute and well… acceptable.

As I went off to pre-school, it morphed into dinosaurs. Still cute and acceptable. I’d rock up the queen of Land Before Time with my child size pink wheelie bin of prehistoric plastics to show-off to anyone who cared as much as I did about the fabulous figurines.

IMAGE: Camouflaging my younger brother in the frog collection (1997)

My mother helped by adding a Nikko ‘JW’ initial under each foot to ensure each dinosaur returned home. Then there were the tantrums that only every sales assistant working in the kid toy section of Target is all too familiar with. “But mummy, mummy I don’t have a baby stegosaurus.”

Later in my teens, my collecting habits became less cute and more problematic.

For whatever reason, I resonated with broken glass. I imagined all the beautiful mosaics I might create or how I could bring this seemingly discarded rubbish ‘back to life’ in a new and artistic way. I kept a separate draw of broken items, hidden from the prying, confused eyes of my family.

This soon phased into the famous ‘jar collection’. Crates and boxes of jars, lined up in the garage and collecting dust for the just in case, one day moment I might need these for a special project.

After moving out of the family home, it was a quick discovery that renting did not accommodate my collecting habits. The glass jar collection had to stay in mom's shed. Until one day in my mid-20’s, she asked “Jasmine can we talk about the jars”.

I didn't watch as they went to jar-heaven.

Adult-life was dedicated to curbing the fetish. Not to minimise judgement (I was well past this adolescent concern), but simply out of necessity.

I remember crying as I hoicked my entire Frankie collection into the spare wheelie bins of my inner city apartment flat. It was time to move house again and relocating my 50kgs of magazines from garage to garage was proving difficult.

To this day, I cringe thinking at such waste of glorious and potential images and words that could have been cut up to use in the Arts Therapy workshops I now run.

I’d like to assume this collecting of ‘stuff’ is a common artist trait. Perhaps.

In my Arts Therapy profession, I now prefer to view this behaviour as more an insight into who I am. A lens of how I view the world, if you will. How I resonate and make meaning with seemingly ordinary but wonderful things and engage creative imagination. It's a reflection of who I am, how I approach problems and meet others with curiosity and intrigue.

SPEACIAL NOTE: This blog is dedicated to my friend, Ashley. She didn’t realise at the time - but asking me for help to collect jars for her wedding has brought back so much happiness.

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

]]><![CDATA[Let's talk expectations.]]>Mon, 05 Jul 2021 02:55:24 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/lets-talk-expectationsExpectations. Even the word carries a heaviness for me.

In fact, it makes me want to hum that Star Wars theme song in my head. You know the one I mean? Darth Vadar.

Perhaps a little intense? But worth the smile.

Here it is in case I’ve lost you (or you can click here):

Imagine this playing in the background and the volume gets louder and louder… enough to push one into a nervous state of panic. Doom. All of the above.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are necessary and good kinds of expectations (the non-gloomy kind). Benchmarks so to speak. Sometimes they are goals to strive for. Sometimes, limits on what you’re prepared to stand for or standards per se.

But there’s just something about the word: EXPECTATIONS.

And no I’m not yelling.

I could write it as expectations and still it carries a “feeling”.

Let’s break it down. For me, I know a lot has and always will be semi self-inflicted. As I ponder and am curious (setting aside what is already known), I notice a faint sensation of a tight ache that builds.

To explore this further, multimodal play is always encouraged!

In Arts Therapy style: using a few loose strings of wool, I start winding these up tighter and tighter.

Embodying: it’s the point from where the bind tightens (neck down). Descriptive words emerge for me, like screwed up, tied, bound and tight. Simply by looking at this process and feeling in to the slow twist on twist of increasing resistance against – I am starting to form an essence of what I think I know expectations to be like for me.

Expectations at play: How do they show up for you? Can you collect some found objects from around the home or a few crafty materials to re-create this sensation for yourself? Magazine images are great too. Remembering this doesn't have to look ‘creative’ or ‘artsy’. It’s simply about using modality in your inquiry process to capture a “close enough version” of that felt sense or image (or even song).

Out of the blue. What happens when I do fall short? Fish out of water, running out of breath.

Personally, it’s an expectation that I need to achieve in all lanes of the pool. This image of standing on a podium readying myself to dive in, I notice it’s just me up there. A desire to place, in a race I’ve designed and set up only for myself.

Over the past two months, Papernook Arts Therapy & Wellness has become busier than ever. As Arts Therapist come business owner, this phase of growth has been both wonderful and overwhelming. Booking's are filling up, I’ve had workshops to run and exciting new contracts and projects to plan. And they’re all the parts of the job I love! The background to-do lists and relentless book keeping not so much.

It has churned my brain late at night, right next to: “I need to do better”. The expectation word has crept in regularly and loudly. Even my own need for self-care waving vigorously at times. It’s been a conscious battle of keeping up with appearances, including the social media front. I’ve wondered about how to invest the little energy and time left over into the more important things.

So what next? Where does it all come from? These expectations. We can be curious and ask ourselves the origins of why we are the way we are.. what makes us tick.. how our thoughts came to form? Is it a timing thing?

Awareness helps, certainly.

But for now, let’s give permission to create space for our expectations to co-exist. Maybe even consider if we could become mates in time. On occasion, I’ll give something a personality or imaginary name, just so that I can sit with it differently and acknowledge it’s a part of – and still separate.

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

]]><![CDATA[The space between.]]>Thu, 29 Apr 2021 14:00:00 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/the-space-betweenSometimes no words are needed at all.

No verbal explanation. No advice. No telling, or yesses and nos.

I cannot say what you should do or how to be. And you don’t need to hear this from me.

The simplest, but most profound acknowledgements lie in the lines between us. They hide and live and grow in the materials, as you work with them, to draw on meaning and make sense of in a way that works for you. Ultimately, you drive this process. But I am here to journey alongside.

I wanted this blog to introduce the idea of inter-subjectivity; a well-worn procedure amoung Arts Therapists. And for me... a value that I hold dear.

Inter-subjectivity:

…where what takes place in the space between two people has the momentum to carry both along.
Quote by Terry Marks-Tarlow // Clinical Intuition in Psychotherapy: The Neurobiology of Embodied Response

So what is an inter-subjective response?

Oftentimes it’s where our responding is of most value and at its best; where what happens between is captured and held onto.

It is an offering and acknowledgement bundled all in one. I have heard you. I have listened and witnessed the pain and suffering and confusion that is now bubbling to the surface through the process and your choice of materials. You may be starting to become aware of it, or not.

Arts Therapy is experiential and relational, and embraces this way of working.

The procedure of responding inter-subjectively often comes from an embodied sense that this is what I am witnessing as it unfolds in the moment for you. With permission, I share this back.

The image: A carefully considered watercolour response, with key words for a client I was recently working with in session. As they worked through a process, this is how I came to respond.

I don’t feel a need to explain this. Rather, I invite you to look in and connect with this in whatever way feels appropriate. What do you notice? What do you feel? Is there something in this that stays with you?

You are not alone. You are heard. This is my offering to you.

NOTE: special acknowledgement and thanks to my client for allowing me to share.

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

]]><![CDATA[A leaf that is.]]>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 10:17:37 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/a-leaf-that-is

Sometimes nature just falls in your lap. Literally.

Meet my leaf. It’s nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary. If anything it’s... well just a little leaf.

Ever go looking for a sign? Hyper-vigilant, waiting, looking. Perhaps hoping to notice something you can grasp onto; something that tells you that this direction you’re headed in is right or that decision is best. How to make sense of X.

For me, I'm glad it was this leaf. A graceful, poignant landing. And more importantly, a lesson in waiting patiently for that next blog topic!

I vouch for most Arts Therapists out there when I say we tend to process content a tad abstract.

It is an aspect I value most about our profession and telling of the world we live and breathe. Sitting on the edge of emergence, curiously and yet loosely held by threads of ‘ah-huhs’. Arts Therapy invites space to explore this concept: content in process.

Background context: Leading up to this moment, I had been considering a dilemma shared during a client session. What I observed and was pondering at the time, was this undercurrent of others need to have us fit neatly into a societal expectation.

A nice neat human in their neat, perfectly defined box. It feels so familiar.
But why and how has it gotten to be like this?

As I twirled my leaf, I noticed. Not that the leaf had an imperfect shape, but instead my thinking that it even needed the missing edge. I caught myself red-handed, heading down a mental path of miss judgy-pants. Eesh.

I held my finger up against the side that was missing a chunk, almost as if I was preventing some impending mishap.

Process: Curiosity peaked, I found myself drawn down the rabbit hole. I decided to trace around the outer edge of the leaf. I move the leaf aside to inspect. Somehow this outline felt more defined and less about the missing piece. Why? This word ‘perfection’ came to mind. Maybe it’s something in the constant need for what we expect, or how we want something to be, or even what we perceive in someone else. Reflecting on this, it’s kind of exhausting. There's a heaviness.

That word ‘reflection’.

I reintroduce the leaf and flip it over to mirror back at that definite solid line. The leaf just is.

I wonder what’s changed about this little piece of nature that now feels more appealing in all of its raw and real originality. Alongside and unwavering.

My offering: How might we invite and allow others to show up more like this – rather than focusing on the defined shape we were expecting or thought they should fill?

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

]]><![CDATA[Comfort Towers]]>Thu, 11 Feb 2021 23:05:30 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/comfort-towers

Getting out of your comfort zone is no easy feat. And truth be told, it’s a feeling I know all too well.

I’m talking about the churn of “familiar” that means you’re hardly noticing the real stuff anymore.

I say this with a knowing of solidarity. It can be so easy to board that train and simultaneously check out from yourself as you grind and watch yourself go, and go, and go.

It might even take a few loud clicks to snap, come back to the present (patting down your arms and legs) to really check-in with where you’re at.

Well, all aboard.

Taking the plunge to start up my own Arts Therapy practice just about takes the cake for me. I had 10 comfortable years of growing and working in a stable marketing career. For a period over the last few years, this came paired with an aweful lot of study, very little time off and many sleepless nights. I was on the train and as it neared the final station, it meant actually doing something tangible about my dreams of supporting people through therapeutic arts. And alas - PAPERNOOK was born.

Some people talk about that familiar, old, worn down spot in their lounge room chair. Perhaps too, this has become your ethereal place to hang out of late?

If I am honest, it was that comfortable worn in spot behind my office computer doing the same old.

So let’s talk vulnerability and “what-if’s”. Yep, that little-big guy called fear.

Exploring this concept using a therapeutic arts-based approach, I discovered that this wanted to show up as my ‘Comfort Zone Tower’. It’s a feeling of having something that I’d actually love so far up in the sky that it’s almost removed, scary and quietly unobtainable. Yet, I'm aware that I do have choices. Do I be risky and climb? Or do I decide to stay where I am? If I did climb, at what point would I start to sense this was ‘right’ and good for me?

Then there’s always the prospect that I might fall and fail. Splat! Ouch (err).

By taking myself through this mini-process, to first visualise and then secondly, consider what it is that I might need if I was going to conquer Comfort Towers, I find I’m able to settle on the idea of some ropes suspended from the top as a harness. A safety net in case I slip on the climb up.

But then I ask: who is holding these ropes tight? Is there someone else? Does there even need to be someone else? What emerged was the recognition that the ropes would be secured and tied off; a small reminder that actually, I’ve got myself. It feels ‘ok enough’ now to give this a go.

Invitation: when was the last time you really asked yourself how you are going in this area? What does your comfort zone look like, sound like, or have qualities of? Have you gotten cosy hanging out in your comfort zone to a point where it is stopping you from getting out and really living a life aligned to your values, hopes and goals?

If you’re already hustling, then great. But if not, or that hustle has become a little monotonous, then perhaps it’s ok to reflect on what you might need to step out and be brave.

Have that conversation. Apply for that course. Meet someone new. Take a plunge towards that something meaningful and scary – but equally rewarding for your soul.

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

]]><![CDATA[Summer Lawn Dilemmas]]>Fri, 22 Jan 2021 06:07:08 GMThttps://www.papernook.com.au/blog/summer-lawn-dilemmas

2020 was a funny ol’ year.

And while many of us are still kicking in high spirits from turning the page on our brand-new wall calendars, gifted in those secret Santa charades, perhaps a quiet distaste lingers. From the year that was – you owe us a fresh slate, a blank page, some magic “good luck” dust!

Please and thank you.

If you’re feeling anything like the majority, then yes, you may still be reverberating from the small remnants of shrapnel left behind. A bad smell, a recipe gone wrong. Perhaps a little meandering off-path from your walk around the block (some heavy sighs from recycling the air in that COVID mask you wish you didn't have to wear).

Enter stage left: I invited some Arts Therapy ‘thinking’ to this conundrum we find ourselves in.

Reflecting on our experiences is vital for pausing, unpacking and beginning to gain some sense of order among the chaos that our minds have been studiously carrying around.

Hitting pause also provides a moment for space to process our environment and see what might emerge. I’m not talking about the ‘snooze’ button and catching those extra 10 minutes. What I’m referring to is the opportunity to feel present in the here and now and that whatever that is, is ok.

We might ask: How did we get here? What does it look like now? Does it feel familiar or quite different from before? If 2020 had a defining colour, sound or gesture – what would that be?

And now we ask: What do I smell when I take in a deep breath? With that breath held, where in my body wants to release that breath? Can I count five different sounds that I am noticing? Now… what was it again that I know helps me to feel safe and secure? Can I incorporate this a little more into each day?

For me, creating room for awareness and to be embodied, is like taking a dip in the pool on a hot summer arvo after mowing the knee-high front lawn. It’s not particularly pretty. I’ve got dust in my ears. I smell a little worse for wear and I’m certainly not fit for any surprise visitors. But I do feel refreshed and a sense of calmness from letting the water lull around my cheeks.

Perhaps it is in these moments we can pause to notice. To consider what has shifted now for us and what we might like to do with that new-found knowledge?

If nothing else, at least neighbourhood watch will be pleased with my respectable front yard.

Be kind and go gently.

Words by Jasmine

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