a moment

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up.
- Pearl Buck

i took a moment at the end of a long, busy day to create a small altar in the bathroom. i took a moment to breathe and drink tea and watch the candle flicker. i took a moment to sink into the quiet. i took one brief moment just for me.

*****

the house is a bit turned on its head right now as we star in our self-created episode of an HGTV show. a day at IKEA and a big delivery tomorrow. with the help of my mom (she is visiting), we are hoping to find order in the midst of the clutter and chaos we have been living in for too long.

tonight, after the house became quiet and the work was done, i gathered some favorite stones and shells and other bits from the bookshelves we were emptying and moved them to a new home.

a cocoon

a cocoon of quiet and truth. this is what i find in moments in the shower. i soak up the quiet as i lean my forehead against the cool wall and give myself permission to open my mind to whatever i need to think about, dream about, hope for. i give myself permission to breathe as the water cascades down my body. i give myself permission to seek answers in the quiet.

when i step from the shower, some days i remember to will the cocoon to stay with me. some days i remember to hold on to what i have sought, what i have learned.

*****

carla has started a project called my sacred life; she is posting a picture a day with the idea being "to creatively connect with the holiness of everyday life." she has invited folks to join her in this idea, and i decided i would accept that invitation, knowing i might not post everyday but that i will enjoy trying as i seek the sacred in my life.

thoughts of a foggy, sleepy mind

road to sunrise at mt. rainier, 19 august 2007

I am up early. Too many thoughts whirling, whirling in my head to allow sleep in. Although my eyes are tired and my mind a bit fuzzy, it feels like a blessing to have this time as dawn begins to stretch. The rain is falling with a fierce need to water our world. It splats on the roof with drips and drops. It is my companion as I wrestle with melancholy and sleepiness and hope and hunger. It seems to lack rhythm in its ferocity. But, if you stop typing, thinking, fearing, whirling for a moment, you can hear its tempo. I can hear its tempo. For a moment I consider walking outside and standing in it. My clothing would quickly stick to me; my shirt transparent and clinging. My long hair would plaster to me; my feet would sink into mud. As reality reminds, I know I would become quite cold. Not the best idea when you need to get back to bed for a few more hours sleep to prevent illness and crabbiness and general fogging of the mind. A welcome idea all the same. A quiet, welcome idea. Maybe it is the earth mermaid in me singing her song. Yesterday, someone googled gypsy girl walking a tight rope and arrived at my blog. I love that. Of course, I hadn't yet written those words together as google does what google does and takes people places they do or do not want to find themselves. Still, I find it amusing and healing to read those words together and think about a connection to this sleepy, foggy person who is me. I imagine myself in a patchwork skirt, white peasant shirt with poofy sleeves, a charm bracelet on one arm and bangles on the other, three rings on my right hand and two on my left — silver and turquoise and amethyst, strings of pink and green and blue and yellow beads around my neck, orange and white striped over-the-knee socks and little fuchsia pink ballet shoes, standing arms outstretched, high above the world, head forward, eyes soft and determined, putting one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that there is no need to look down.

inspirations, august 17

the song "fly away" by the indigo girls

cloudy skies providing afghan-wrapped mornings

the poem "a noiseless patient spider" by walt whitman

stardust (go see this movie)

practical magic (an old favorite)

the way a root beer float bubbles

remembering that it is sometimes better to breathe instead of do

touching the earth

as a young girl, i was often transfixed by globes and maps. i spent time turning the globes in my grade-school classrooms, looking at the colors of the countries, wondering what it would be like to live far away from where i lived in "the middle" of the united states. i loved the moment in a history class when the teacher would unfurl the map from its hidden location above the blackboard. when looking through atlases and spinning globes, i wondered if countries could choose their color. i enjoyed running my fingers over bumpy topographical maps and thinking about the mountains and how high they might be. i remember realizing that all the oceans were connected and often thought that there should just be one name for all the water connecting the continents. my parents bought me a globe pillow and i spent time choosing my favorite country name and dreaming of taking trips to that country when i was old enough to explore the world on my own.

now, jon and i often remark something to one another when we see a globe in a store. "look at that." "we should get one of those." "i love globes."

i think it might be time for me to finally have a globe of my own. i also think it might be time for me to start seriously planning some adventures.

balm

spending time at barnes and noble with jonny, a big pile of books, and two yummy drinks

watching pride and prejudice and giggling

watching the last hour of walk the line and smiling with delight as june finally says yes

stroking millie's forehead

packaging up a new anya tote to send across the country to a new customer

opening up some new bits for flags from speckled egg

my mother's patience as we talked today and her ideas as we brainstorm what we are going to make when she comes to visit and her encouragement to always make the things that i enjoy making instead of getting caught up in a need to "make money"

my father calling to say "how are you?" and then listening when i burst into tears

walt whitman's leaves of grass

knowing that to open one's heart is to live

knowing i will soon fall asleep with my head on my husband's chest

breathe in, breathe out

feeling a bit exhausted. reminding myself to breathe in and out.
life is good.
but wishing i was about to spend a few days at the beach.

today, i really spent some time thinking about how i am so blessed to have jon in my life. he keeps the sky from falling even when i try to convince myself the role of chicken little is to be played by me.

portland was good. i love that town. jon and i are finally finding our way around it, even if we do go in circles, or squares rather, because of all those one-way streets. had fun meeting folks at crafty wonderland and really enjoyed seeing my cousin and my brother. also got to meet susan, and i can't wait to hopefully have coffee with her the next time i am in town. i also bought a kendra binney print. i love that girl's art.

hope things are bright where you are...i would love it if you would share something wonderful that has happened in your world lately.

oh and i am slowly uploading some new totes and flags to my little shop this week, and i hope you will stop by and take a peek.

seeing

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
— Anaïs Nin