Before there were synced calendars and day planners and even before there were trapper keepers, there was a little girl who sat in trees. She sat in the trees for what felt like hours, though it might have been mere minutes. She dreamed, journal-ed and sketched. She transported to a place of joy and bliss, cradled in the crooks of maples and oaks, conversing with imaginary beings.
The Heroine’s Journey is about reclaiming our vitality, our joy, and escaping the Wasteland.
Two days in a row now I’ve sat down in the morning with my coffee and an intention to write…and two… Read more No words, just art
End of the Beginning by James Northrup Someone said we begin to die the minute we’re born. Death is a… Read more Take time to remember
A few months ago my friend gave me a plumeria cutting. Even if you have never heard of Plumeria I… Read more And Then…Growth.
Independence is each for themselves. Interdependence is we are stronger together.
This was a morning I did not want to get out of bed. Not even to write. Not even to… Read more Bird Songs
It is spring in Southern Florida. You have to look closely (it is easy to miss the subtle signs among… Read more Signs of Spring