It scares me

How quickly

I can push things away

Or turn my back

Altogether

How soon I start on a path

And let nothing

Stand in my way,

Requiring an outside force

To knock me down

Forcing me to look up

And out

A prudent pause

A ragged reflection

A feverish coming back to what I already knew.

We must continuously integrate

Baking each complexity in

Constantly shifting

Embracing grounded authenticity

Brightly being uniquely you.

Earthy smell of shavings

Rhythmic sound of etching

Smooth resistance of fine pointed No. 2 lead

Scribbling through a brainstorm

Teasing out a thought-full knot

Drafting a plan

Jotting an idea

Chiseled wood at my fingertips

And pressed pine in my lap

Scribing. Scripting. Graphite taking form.

The miracle of learning something new

Discipline to set goals, and see them through.

Discernment in success and failure,

The thrill found only in trial and error.

The art of learning something new,

Especially when you’re showing up for more than you.

Humility to ask for help, to say yes,

Gratitude for every small step of progress.

Expanding your capacity

for love, for life,

for quiet tenacity.

The art, the miracle, of learning something new.

Grandmother spider,

I gaze at your web.

Expansive and strong,

Dynamic and sure,

Glazed with rhythm and connection.

Let me spin a web like you - patterned with loving-kindness and sacred discernment.

As present and spacious as the horizon.

Your smartphone is a presence killer.

Human connection forms in sustained moments.

I refuse to evolve to fit fragmented attention.

Rinse your feet in cool water. 

Take a dip in the pool. 

Make a moment to chill

And refresh.

You’ve done so much

Under the fullness of the sun

And now we are rounding into 

The season of crispness.

Process and integrate.

Enjoy.

You are fully capable

And clear as you are. 

A walk in the woods
Tomatoes from the neighbors
Hair out of my face
Clutter free for possibility
Bare skin for breathability
A truck bed full of potential
I love you, life on earth.

If I were a house
I think I’d be like this one.
Along side a creek
Surrounded by wild ferns and yucca
With lots of shade and a small garden.
Built on granite and red clay.
Pieced together
Brick by brick, plank by plank
To form a home.
Flowers and herbs from the yard
Cut and placed inside.
Books in every room
Windows in the ceiling
And no blinds because the trees provide a safe guard.
Dwelled in by early risers
Creators, reflectors, lovers of nature.
A home that’s accommodating and connecting
With plenty of space to move and untangle.

If I were a house
I think I’d be like this one.

Time is a luxury.
Relationships are a gift.
Both require boundaries, clarity, and a choice to uplift.

Shallow facades and misrepresentations distort life and mean nothing.
Following suits for showing off like a puppet on a string.

To quietly stand in the depth of a purpose and breadth of connection
is a truth beyond words and a sure view of the long run.

Today I hiked Sawnee Mountain for the first time in a round of seasons
And remembered that this is where I do my best thinking.

For the past decade
In the ice, rain, and thick of summer
As a newly wed,
A pregnant lady, a new mom
Navigating change and uncovering truth one step at a time.

The trail conditions were my favorite today:
Rainy and lush
Bright eyed and nourished.

I saw 3 protective does with bushy white tails
Squirrels that came so close they might as well be civilized
And a path lined with budding wild blackberries.

Basket oaks and tulip trees
Virginia creeper and poison ivy

My suburban sanctuary.

Huck is still there, at Camp Sawnee.
He has attended camp every summer since he was 4.
This time he is two class levels and 5 sneaker sizes up from where he started
Learning and enjoying nature with peers and adults in our community.

As I checked him in we walked by the little ones with their tiny sneakers and chubby cheeks
I felt a pang in my heart
Of wonder and truth
That happens in a blink.

This mountain knows me the same way I know it
Deep and wide,
Still barely scratching the surface.

Melted down, weeded out
Carved off and whittled away at
The meaningless

Then pieced together
Prudently
One bit at a time
In the light of morning

The form of you is elegant, lovely, and grand.
Seams and stitches
Spackle and grout are your strong hold
And make you absolutely splendiferous.

When the air goes humid
and the foliage lush
I dream of my childhood bedroom
in the back corner of the house.

The three paned windows open wide
the Great Attic Fan roaring
A lullaby of crickets and cool air with
aromas of magnolia and honeysuckle.

A memory rooted deep in my core.
I love you childhood. I love you southern summer nights.

Sunday Snapshot

I’m learning to play ukulele
In furry slippers
Seated on the front steps of our home.

The dog is a step down
Stretch out and napping in the sun.
His ears jut back when I hit a chord wrong.

In pots beside me are the herbs we planted
Basil, cilantro, lavender and thyme
Adding their ambrosial perfume to the tune.

The protective, surrounding trees listen
Tall and swaying
Lush from the rainstorm

And my soul is fed.

Bird on a branch
Water on a leaf

Music and quiet
Lightning and rain

A friend who is
a sister
a mother and
daughter

Love, life,
A flame

Light and loving
Pure and sunny
Bright and blissful
Likes bees and honey

Pinks and yellows
Fling of giggly
Springtime joy
Pure femininity

Declutter your heart.

Let the leaves fall and die.
They can keep you warm for a while, but eventually must be blown away.

Break yourself open and
Let your blood flow
Frigid and awake like a melted avalanche
Or scorching and slow like molten lava. 

Open to joy even when you don’t understand it.
Let your muse be a muse,
No questions asked.

There is no normal or specific,
just a life and a love and the living. 

Pink, a playful invitation

Red, a liberation

Blue, sadness released sky high

Green, steady as a tree

Teal, expansive as the sea

Black, a velvet blanket

And white, empty and free

The complexities of you

Are written in the palms of your hands -

Deep grooves and dynamic shapes

Earthy callouses and endless layers.

picking up
where I left off.

same soul,
new boots.
skin shed
raw heart,
realized potential.

mended and secure.
committed to companionship
and the innocence within me.

A moment set in stone

Time placed on mud

Baked into forever

A piece of my heart sits on your kitchen windowsill

Reminding me of who I am and what l've been

Did you notice the stars in my eyes when saw it?

These days memory feels few and far between

But when I see pottery that l've formed, scribed, and colored, I recall all parts of the making and memories surrounding it.