I’m going to pursue a new blog vision this next year, which means:

  • thinky thoughts on a variety of things
  • pictures of my experiments in art (mostly cute swirly doodles)
  • me obsessing over notebooking and journaling (my favorite pastime)
  • great quotes and thoughts from thinkers that I come across
  • and perhaps…*gasp*…poetry.

I spend my life trying to learn to see more clearly and live more truly. But I’m learning that it is never enough to be a truth-knower: you must grow up and be a truth-speaker, or else the truth dies with you. It’s hard to invite people to live if you aren’t willing to invite them into your life. Don’t keep your heart and your beautiful discoveries sealed off from a world that’s losing heart and in desperate need of beauty.

Silence is golden, but truth-filled speech is a flower that blooms and gives its life to the world. So once again, I commit to practice using my voice.





Quote from my notebook while I was on vacation:

When I come back… Writing. Candles lit. Work getting done.

It’s kind of a perpetual vision of mine.  I do like lighting a candle right before I begin to write.  It serves to make my creative time official, reminding me to get work done.  I also love the subtle sensory stimulation…flame flickering or glowing steadily, wax slowly melting, the soft scent gradually making its presence known.  Right now I’m burning the candle pictured above, a Midnight Bloom candle that I got in a lovely little candle shop we visited on vacation.  They say the sense of smell is the sense most strongly linked to memory, so burning candles while I write is like bringing the past into the present, taking all its sights and sounds and feelings, weaving them into my work.  

In our technology-obsessed era, any kind of sight and sound are available on demand.  This makes the other senses so much more valuable in breaking us out of the modern fantasy, back into the real world where real souls live and real art is created.  

Begin, and begin again

I hereby state my intent to blog again.

Growing up is hard, especially when you think you’ve finished and find, much to your surprise, that you’ve only gotten started.  For me the two years after graduating high school were full of turmoil — full of the world asking me who I was, at a time when I realized with a shock that I didn’t actually know the answer to that question.  But at last I sense a settling inside myself.  The chaos is dying away.  I am free to live, and to have a new vision.

So here I am.  I’ve learned the point is not to live perfectly, but to live bravely, and to live alive.  I’ve learned the strength of vulnerability.  I’ve learned that who I am lasts longer and is more important than what I am.  I am very important and not important at all — a brilliant paradoxical reality that allows me to do what matters with humility and without caring what anyone thinks.

Which means it is time at last to follow through on the vision of my last long-ago post.

It is time to speak again.


So often I choose not to speak.  

I’ve lived my life believing I was a performer, someone who could take up space only if I was interesting or entertaining.  I’ve chosen to shrink to leave room for other people, not realizing that I wasn’t helping anybody, and was only hurting myself.  In a world where everyone talks and nobody listens, I thought the solution was to be a person who, most of the time, didn’t talk.  

But I was wrong.  

The solution is this: I will listen.  Everyone must be heard, and I will open my soul to their stories, giving them room to think, process, heal, dream.  

But I will also speak.  

I will speak, even when I speak imperfectly, even when I’m not completely right, even when the thought hasn’t been polished by tumbling around in my mind for years.  I will put aside the fear that kills indiscriminately.  I will no longer try to hide behind bulletproof arguments.  I will come up for air, bask in the moonlight on the water, and breathe.  

Just because I can second-guess every step doesn’t mean I should.

Just because I irrationally believe that I can present a perfect front to the world doesn’t mean I should try.  Such attempts have wounded me before — but mostly, they have shut me up inside myself.  

I wasn’t meant to live that way.  

I shall take up my own space.  You do not have to listen, but I have learned that I must speak.  

Let it begin.

Most things come into the world a little awkwardly, starting with a few unsure steps and gradually gaining confidence.  


I’m one step ahead in that I am already confident that I have things that need to be said.  


(So now that my intellectual, conceited intro is done…hi!)