Paradise is…

Cuban coffee. ​​ puppy dogs. Key west man who said, “you wanna take my picture?” I told him I was taking photos to paint later because I’m an artist. He said he’s an artist too–a guitarist who played with Brett Michaels before he joined the marines! Love this place.  Next up, reef snorkeling. Husband is…

Let’s use this fire-breath to bring down the patriarchy! (Or something…)

I understand that part of this anger is about my own deep wounds. My own story of harm by a mad man–and the perceived betrayal of the otherwise sane people who knew better than to believe a madman and ultimately align with a mad man.

This is also what I know about being wounded: there is no greater pain that not being seen. We don’t expect a mad man to see or understand our pain. He’s not capable of it. But the ones who we know are capable of empathy and love? We except better.

Be like the Painted Bunting

When a male painted bunting feels threatened it sings out a loud, clear, beautiful song from its perch, all the while dazzling in a bold palette of red, blue, green and yellow. You can do this too. When facing darkness and fear, dare to show your bold colors and sing your beautiful song. Sing it into the void. Pierce…