It turns out a happy, creative parent is a better parent. (Especially when puffy paint is involved.)
.[T]he universe is looking for collaborators because creation’s not finished. It’s not something that happened in seven days and ended. It’s an ongoing story that we’re part of.
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.
Permission for you, and for you, and for you! Let’s play!
Are you a fan of The Artist’s Way?
Today is going to be a good day.
When I started writing this blog I had no idea the blog’s name — mourning dove motherhood–would take on so… Read more I just don’t like your uterus
Can we talk about how hard April has been? Really hard. You would think I’d be prepared, knowing it’s the… Read more Where the rubber meets the road
Certainly I’ve been thinking about my late mom (Diane), and the grandmother I never met (Elizabeth), and her cousins (names unknown) on the genetic chart, called a pedigree. I’ve been thinking about other women too.
Debby and Angela, two women I knew and admired, both not much older than myself, who died recently of breast cancer. Circles blackened and crossed out.
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.