IT SEEMS SO SIMPLE, RIGHT? And yet, there I was again, yelling like a shrew at my family this past weekend. All sleep-deprived and self-righteous. (I always become the self-righteous martyr when I'm parenting from an empty cup...look at me, sacrificing for ALL OF YOU, NONE of you whom seem to appreciate my greatness! LOL. NOT A GOOD LOOK FOR YOU, SARAH.)
With sweaty palms and joy, I'm excited to announce that I'm finally launching my etsy shop! You are the first to know--not because I am trying to sell you anything (and I truly am not, and I also promise not to use this blog to promote the shop beyond sharing today's news!)--but because this is as much yours to celebrate as mine.
Has she fled to Canada? Is she wandering the woods of Chappaqua? Is she holed up with Richard Simmons? No, no, and *shudder* thank God no!
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.
Sometimes we need to dig into the closet. What is in there that scares us? I've read that the Chinese New Year's FIRE ROOSTER brings with it the energy of tidying up, letting go, and being fastidious. Recently I fully embraced the rooster energy and decided to spontaneously empty and organize our walk-in closet. To the… Continue reading Peering into the closet
“I am called to listen to the sound of my own heart—to write the story within myself that demands to be told at that particular point in my life. And if I do this faithfully, clothing that idea in the flesh of human experience and setting it in a true place, the sound from my… Continue reading I am called to listen to the sound of my own heart
I have drafts in my head that I want to put on page but instead I'm painting so the words will have to wait just a bit longer. Things are brewing. Not coffee of course. Welp. I made it three hours into the morning and legitimately thought about throwing in the towel. That is how… Continue reading Things are brewing (but not coffee)
This past week felt like a ride in an old jalopy. I had creative bursts, some of them so disruptive that I felt tossed about and thrown off my seat...only to then be followed with abrupt stops that ground me to a halt. It felt like this in my home too, where I couldn't seem to… Continue reading Fits and Starts, Leaps and Halts
Two days in a row now I've sat down in the morning with my coffee and an intention to write...and two days in a row I have decided to draw and paint instead. Either way, a very good way to start the day, and I am grateful for that! I am sure the words will return soon. I… Continue reading No words, just art
So duh duh duh duuuuuuh (that was a trumpet if you were wondering), henceforth I shall commence a daily morning writing, with coffee and assorted rejected dairy-products.