Wanted: people willing to shine light into darkness.
Here's my idea: I give away five postcards featuring my art and in return you use them to advocate for the end of the horrific child-separation policy.
The goal is not to repress what the heart is stirred to express (hopes, losses, despairs, longings) but rather to hold it all in love....and then release.
Can we talk about how hard April has been? Really hard. You would think I'd be prepared, knowing it's the cruellest month and all. But nope. There has been an endless onslaught of bad news for people I care about. Tragedy, loss, injustice. One after another. (I need to close my FB feed for real.)… Continue reading Where the rubber meets the road
I hereby surrender and accept my current reality as it stands--in its messy glory, its ecstatic uncertainty.
"Sometimes the bee stings, and sometimes it makes honey." Z, age 4, tiny Buddha (and recently stung by a bee for the first time.) Watercolor pencil, pen and water
"Pain is a great teacher, but light is a greater one." - Magldala Ramirez, Ancient Wisdom of the Feminine podcast.
The man who gives you a back rub without your permission. The guy who stands a little too close to you on the bus, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. The boys who joked and the men who joked and so many jokes but you were never laughing. The jokes you didn't understand because you were too young to understand. The gut punch when you were old enough to finally get what they meant.
My heart breaks at the news out of Las Vegas. I am sharing the post I wrote about the aftermath of Orlando and a shooting at a dance club in my home of Fort Myers. The words I wrote then remain true today: I refuse to remain silent. I refuse to stay numb. And I am tired of this madness.
This morning I found myself standing in a strip mall less than a mile away from where I used to live, a dozen roses in my hand and more than two dozen reporters in my face.
I was standing on the site of the latest mass shooting in America.
A reporter asked me was why I was there.
I’d thought about this as I purchased a bouquet of small yellow roses at my local Winn-Dixie this morning. (What types of flowers are suitable to leave at memorials for mass shootings? I wondered. This is now a question we have to ask ourselves in America.)
I thought about gun violence as I made the twenty-three minute drive north from my home, driving past my church that only five short weeks ago hosted a vigil for the Orlando mass shooting victims. I thought about it as I exited the…
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Do I want to write about how grateful I am for safe drinking water, cool air and hot food? (Very.) Do I want to write about but there for the grace of God go I?