Well here. I am. I AM. 6 years later. Still the same me. Still the same thoughts and practices but circling around. Back to myself to re-evaluate, re-examine. Again. I find the writing faster than the painting. The creativity so portable and personal. Though linear. But I do appreciate typing these keys keys for me. Seems appropriate  to make the connections more easily since I am typing by day. Sending data. Translating thoughts through keys and letters and phonics and then sending them through space to other translator  boxes. For other eyes to see and interpret  and process and digest. Whew...did I need to get away from that shit show. That mudslinging circus that we have become a part of. No elements of self protection can guard you from the back alley that social media has become. It steals you from yourself under the guise of connectedness. At least this is my present truth with it. For sure there are benefits and pleasantries and cute babies and kittens sprinkled in but the social experiment has run amuck and I am content to sit back and recalibrate. Sharing with my own damn self. Looking at my own damn posts. Right here in the empty hall that provides expression un fucked with. black and white. Clean and crisp. quiet. and mine. simple and lovely.liquid

Back to it

Well here I am. Back in this place of recording. Yes, like an empty hallway. Where I am the only one to make the noise. The only one to hear the echo. My words ache to be written, to stand somewhere. To be seen. But maybe only by the emptiness of this old screen. Maybe only by me. A record. An ancient tablet. Some old wisdom rising up into the privacy of a writing temple. One where wisdom spills. Without the comments or likes or scrolling. All of that fight or flight creating a huge snowball of anxiety. I needed a break. A return to center. To life. To this forgotten page. I am almost amazed that something this simple still exsists. Thank you God for the simplicity of this. It is so nice to write here.

Twice

okay
So night two. Day two.
Does anyone even blog anymore?
I feel as though I am writing in some abandoned hallway.
A place that people used to frequent but is empty and damp.

A cool, quiet place. Tucked away. Not so visible.

Yes, that's just about right.
Good night.

Begin Again

The space that exists between this writing and the last

Vast

But tiny

I am refreshed to read my own words

Calmed by my former awareness

Confident that the return to this practice will be good

Good

Nice

Familiar

A continuation of a long thread of knowledge

I have been hungry to create

The word is faster than paint

Less drying time

Less set up

Oh but how I long to paint

Saving up the impulses for the day when there is

Long

Sweet

Quiet

Uninterrupted space

And it will be so beautiful

But for now, this is just right.

Perfection in words

My tiny phone screen a canvas

The hastily typed words a sketch

The craving to leave a mark satisfied

Ahhhh, I return to the liquid pen.

To a blog whose name I could not remember.

Here you are friend. 

Frozen in time 

And full of wisdom.

I return to your pages

Happy

And full.

Clear Space

There is nothing like clearing and changing your space to bring about renewal of the spirit. Sometimes in Spring, Sometimes in Fall, sometimes the New Year. Whatever the occasion, it is a great gift to give yourself. One that requires focus and energy but costs nothing and will make you and your house very happy indeed!.....So to my kids room and my living room, I say , thank you and your welcome...and I can't wait to hang out in your gracious, healing, calming space ...and to send my children to bed and to play in a clean, clear, joyful place.

I love my sweet, little, perfect home!

Oh, Here I am

Hi.

Here I am.

Back from the dizzy spin of summer.

Fabulous, sweet, wonderful in so very many ways....and totally shocking to my system which had become used to still, peaceful time in which I could care for my home and self and a stillness in which I could actually hear myself, feel myself, see myself.

So, we return to the sweet, sweet rhythm of the school year. Something I am understanding now in a deep way. The children were so ready. They are so happy to have their own space as well. Their own friends and identities. Their own battles to figure out without the shadow of a mother over their shoulder. The pride that comes with that.

I am recovering from an end of summer ass kicking and I finally feel like a human with full capacity to breathe in all ways. I am so excited for all that I will learn this school year. So happy with my life. It is like I emerged from the salty swim of summer to realize that I live on a really, really rockin' beach, with one hell of a view. I feel ready to run around with my hands in the air screaming with joy at the life I have created. I am so very happy to be here and so filled with gratitude!

Namaste

Summer Mom

I take a quick moment to be here. With myself. and am grateful and full and connected. Yes, I still exist...and await my return to long hours of meditation.....until then...hot summer fun with sweet, loving children!