Here

Here

Is a woman 

who wrestles with doubt, fitting in and being enough

Here

Is where the wispy remains 

of contrails drift through the sky above.

Here

Is the little girl inside 

who feels unrooted, afraid and alone.

Here

Are the tattered, tangled strings

of prayer flags dancing in the wind.

Here

Is her thick crab shell 

that armors her heart and soft yielding insides.

Here

Is the soft scraping 

of bird beaks cracking their humble offerings of seeds.

Here

Is where her journey 

continues on her own path and hers alone.

Here

Are the words 

that whisper from somewhere within, searching, seeking, knowing.

Here

The voice echoes 

with a truth: "this is the only moment that matters."

                                                                                                          ~Celina Wyss

Monday Musings

5 things that inspired me last week:

• Listening to Danielle's passionate interview on CBC radio.

• Having a full moon intention ceremony with my daughter, Hailee, and hearing her read her "Dear Moon" letter out loud.

• Watching this humble collaborative movie on 11/11/11 

• This video 

• Reading this post and feeling as though it was calling out right to my heart.

Happy Monday all! May you have an inspirational week filled with love and joy!

A Message

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
                                                                                                                              ~Steve Jobs

The Sketchbook Project

This week I have been plugging along on a project that has been in progress for awhile now. I'm trying to let go of the pressure I tend to put on myself to make it "perfect" and let it unfold how it will. I am collaborating with the wildly talented Jojo Blondel to complete this book for the 2012 Art House Sketchbook project. Our deadline is fast approaching.

Our theme is "Time Travel" so we opted to go for a fun nostalgic route. I took many field trips to thrift shops to pick through the piles of unwanted games, books and magazines to find vintage pieces for our project and Jojo did the same. We each have matching pieces of ephemera so we now are working on incorporating them into pages separately. Even though our pages have a similar element I am sure they are going to look vastly different in design. This is the part I am letting go of. Trying not to worry about how much of an amazing designer and artist Jojo is and let my messy collage-y style come out.

I'm hoping to be finished with my pages by next month so that Jojo and I can assemble our book and send it off to Art House in plenty of time to be a part of next years exhibit. I can't wait to share the completed book with you all. I'm sure there will be some celebrating going on. Until then I will keep playing and practicing letting go.

A Message

The Return

Some day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces
of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,
you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language
to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies
and granite and bone. They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear
your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they–like you–must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.

                                            ~Geneen Marie Haugen

A Message

“What you seek is seeking you.”

                                        ~ Rumi