Going on a little adventure today. Even though I am sick and slightly miserable and desperately in need of antibiotics. Don’t ask me why–someday I will tell you everything from the beginning to the very end, but today is not that day! In the meantime, light a candle (or two! or three!) if you don’t mind and ask the Universe to send courage to my dear ones–and clarity–along with a hefty dose of favor unexpected. It’s an important day.
UPDATE 2/29 5:20PM: Thank you all so much! Everything went even better than expected today! Many more days like this to come before the story can be told, but we incredibly thankful for your love and support. Sweet blessings all around.
This poem is ringing in my mind these days. In case you are worried about being good enough, here’s something to consider:
Here’s the poem “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
I hope you feel a deep sense of belonging this happy Love Thursday.
Madeleine’s crumb hands. My entry for Get Dirty and Get Clean, a photo contest sponsored by the soulful and earth-loving CleanWell.
I found this video earlier today from a blogger living in Paris. I love to trade links with international readers, so all you lurkers in Tehran, don’t be shy now. I’m waiting for you.
Anyway, the whole video below captures my mood today. I’m stuck in bed, hacking like a chain smoker with this god-awful flu. Sitting in bed for too many days with the candles burning and quiet in the house will make you a little more melancholy and reflective than usual. Being sick will do that to you.
Trust was my theme word last year. I was almost afraid to say it out loud–I didn’t want to tempt the Universe with too many lessons I wasn’t ready to learn. But with or without my declaration of intent, the Universe read my heart, and all year long I received gentle nudges to move deeper into Trust. I am by no means even close to being there yet–trust requires a certain combination of confidence and courage that sometimes feels elusive to me–but I can honestly say I made great strides, mostly in getting it through my head that I desperately need to listen to my own wisdom and take my intuition seriously. Everyday I’m still practicing.
I know all too well that injuring your intuition by habitually disregarding it can prove costly. Disconnected from our gut, our most primal way of knowing, we stop feeling and deposit our confidence in other people’s perspectives. We stop tuning in to all the data provided in our own flesh and blood and count the opinions of outsiders the holy writ of sage guides. Not that there is anything wrong with taking wise counsel; it’s just nowhere near as valuable as the kind of knowing that comes from that tiny voice inside of you. To silence that voice or to shame it comes with a hefty price. Lose your trust and find yourself in a maze with no easy way back home.
Thankfully, along the path, kind friends show up to remind you of the truest you. You know the way, they say. Your instincts are right on. It’s okay to make mistakes. Trust yourself. And when all that seems impossible they promise to trust on your behalf, that something so much greater is holding us all.
I hope you don’t lose your trust today, that you can hold as sacred that little voice inside you. You are in safe hands. You know what to do. Today is a brand new day. Everything is unfolding exactly as it should.
I’m writing from my bed this morning, hoping these yummy sheets and candles all around will heal this wicked cough I brought home with me from Portland. One of the things I’ve been turning over in my mind the last few days is the draw I have to tell stories. The last few years have convinced me that stories are the thing that makes deep transformation possible. And lately, I’m finding, too, that stories are the thing that help us connect as human beings. It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, black or white, kind or cruel–if you can tell me a story from an honest place inside your heart, I can feel close to you. I can override all the other things that might naturally keep us apart.
I was thrilled, too, this morning to stumble upon this blog and this video from Dr. Brene Brown who researches shame and empathy. It’s eight minutes long, but totally and completely worth it if you are curious about what kind of understanding makes the truest storytelling possible.
I’m home from Portland and feeling really sick, despite the fantastic weather and exhilaration of working with the amazing Sage Cohen. While I’m under the covers, pounding out deadlines with my laptop in hand, you might want to take a peek at my Art and Design column for Blogher this morning. I wrote about claiming creative workspaces and drawing inspiration from seeing how other people carve out their own.
I’m feeling slightly under the weather this morning–I’m hoping I don’t have whatever kept Madeleine down so many days. In spite of all that, I can’t help but feel so grateful to be here. The beauty of these landscapes seriously recharges my soul and feeds my creativity like nothing else. Last night I dreamt in complete sentences which felt like magic.
I hope you’re feeling fine this Saturday morning. All my noble plans for pulling together a last minute meet-up are falling apart at the moment. This cough is leaving me quiet and feeling a little less social than usual. Still, I’d love to hear what your favorites are in Portland–your must-go places whenever you grace this lovely town.
at our Valentine’s dinner at Jackie’s. if you’re new to this blog, these two are our neighbors, dear friends and part of our little urban family, our “commune”
In a comedy of errors, I realized two nights ago in the grocery store, that I am going to be in Portland, Oregon, THIS very weekend, not next–if Grace and I hadn’t figured that one out on the phone, I might have missed our trip completely! After totally freaking out about that little month long error in communication and everything I have to do between now and then, I could not help but feel super excited. Oregon has always been a magical place for me. I’ve had amazing experiences there, the kind that have altered the course of my life and the fabric of my soul. I can’t wait to get back.
One of the things I’m looking forward to the most is seeing Sage Cohen, a truly talented poet I met a few years ago in California. One night last fall, Sage had a dream about a collaborative project we could do together. I love Sage so much for being the kind of person to take that kind of intuition and inspiration seriously; I’m going to Portland in part to continue working on our project, this time in person. So if you see two women talking a mile a minute at Powell’s, waving books around in the air, that would be us.
This captures pretty perfectly how these two can be together when left to their own devices. (Mom, I swear someone was “in charge” of them in my absence, but as you can see, Madeleine has things pretty locked up!)
for some reason, i love this picture of this scratched up old door. the circles feel fitting for this post.
I can’t get this song out of my head ever since Krystyn wrote about it on ShutterSisters. Do you know it? I love it so much that I had to get myself a nifty little player so you could hear it on this blog. Go ahead, hit play.
I think songs like this are compelling because they challenge our conventional ideas about love, about when you can feel love, about what you think you need and what you really need to express or experience love in a meaningful way.
When I let all the machinations of my clever mind rest, sometimes I can catch a glimpse of the whole–that we are connected, that love is available even in the most painful of circumstances, that the distances that trouble me are products of my mind, more than the truth of our shared collective Heart.
There is a universe that can’t be seen
It’s just a feeling if you know what I mean
A delectable dimension undetectable by sight
It’ll fill up your heart in the dead of the night
Some say its an astral plane
Can’t be described can’t be explained
The world exploded into love all around me
The world exploded into love all around me
And everytime I take a look around me
I have to smile
Oh is our life just an illusion
There is no need to figure it out
The separation exists not in your love filled heart
But only in your mind
The real story’s all around you
Even now it surrounds you
Even now I feel the power
The world exploded into love all around me
The world exploded into love all around me
And every time I take a look around me
I have to smile
I have to smile
If you’re feeling particularly disconnected from Love today, maybe you can close your eyes and play this song and pray for new eyes to see what’s really going on all around you. That’s my plan for this Monday. Sending peace and hope your way.
Where, oh where, you are asking yourself this morning, is our lovely advocate for all things small, passionate and beautiful? My dear Rachelle is crossing over the Atlantic on her way to her new home in Copenhagen, Denmark, where she will have many tiny adventures with her kind husband and sweet children. When we spoke last on Friday, she was on the mad hunt for a good wireless connection, since her temporary housing had denied her the one thing she craved the most!
We believe stories are valuable, no matter how many people read them.
We believe following your passion is more important that watching your sitemeter.
We believe in the handmade, the first try, the small start, and the good effort.
We believe that small is beautiful.
Before Rachelle left, I promised her I’d take a turn as her partner-in-crime and celebrate this loving, creative and kind-spirited tribe. Here are seven lovely collections of favorite posts from seven lovely bloggers in the SIB community. (Each blog link will take you directly to the bloggers top 7!)
My name is Jen Lemen. I'm messy, hopeful,
enthusiastic and helplessly in love with the idea
that stories can change you and me forever.