The Map

Years ago, I stumbled upon the art and inspiration of Jan Richardson (http://janrichardson.com/)

 Like so many things in life, she got misplaced when I moved from one office to another, from one computer to another.  I may have lost my "book marks" but I never forgot her imagery.  Out of the blue...or rather cyber skies I received an invitation to "Like" her Facebook Page, Art+Faith. What a joy to have found her again.  As I read through her verses...it was as if it hadn't been 15 years since the last time.  Thank you for today's sweet inspiration.

The Map You Make Yourself

You have looked
at so many doors
with longing,
wondering if your life
lay on the other side.

For today,
choose the door
that opens
to the inside.

Travel the most ancient way
of all:
the path that leads you
to the center
of your life.

No map
but the one
you make yourself.

No provision
but what you already carry
and the grace that comes
to those who walk
the pilgrim’s way.

Speak this blessing
as you set out
and watch how
your rhythm slows,
the cadence of the road
drawing you into the pace
that is your own.

Eat when hungry.
Rest when tired.
 

Listen to your dreaming.
Welcome detours
as doors deeper in.

Pray for protection.
Ask for the guidance you need.
 

Offer gladness
for the gifts that come
and then
let them go.

Do not expect
to return
by the same road.
 

Home is always
by another way
and you will know it
not by the light
that waits for you

but by the star
that blazes inside you
telling you
where you are
is holy
and you are welcome
here.- Jan L. Richardson

In the rough...

I believe that the Universe is quicker than most folks think when it comes to answerin' questions.  Our challenge is to be more alert to readin' her signs. 

Case in point.  I was driving down Rt. 1, pondering and havin' one of my seekin' conversations concerning some of my current challenges, when one of those digital billboards caught my eye.  

Honest to God...this is what it said...all be it was a whisky ad...I got the word! 

Thank you Miss Universe (AKA White Lightnin') 

Quote by Thomas Carlyle, a Scottish Philosopher.

Fine....and you?

I am actually taking a writing class.  Interesting that today's lesson should be about narratives... I woke up thinking about them. I'm not sure I've written one since highschool. With the house still at peace with the night, I made my way downstairs for my "personal time". I opened an email from an old friend, responding to something silly I had sent her, probably something snarky with a cat as the focal point.
I found it odd that she responded with some vague reference to the weather, but then again, she may have found it odd that all I could manage was a wordless "forward". 

After a few moments of analysing, I did what I do best, condense the experience into as few words as possible, leaving  you to fill in the blanks.

Perhaps I do need to hone my narrative skills.

The Golden Kick

I can remember spray painting my shoes when I was in high school...Gold Lame' has always held a certain place in my heart. Perhaps it is because my Grandmother Maude always carried a gold change purse or because one of my first dolls was not a baby doll...but a platinum blond "glamour doll" with gold shoes. I don't know, all I know is that they make me extremely happy...and I always have a pair whether they are in-style or not.

This old house....

Sags.  I doubt you could find a square corner in any of the nine rooms.  It's drafty, winter breezes enter from the windows and the floors, even the electrical sockets on a blustery day.

The plaster walls, well, I like to say they have laugh lines. A collective response to all the storytellin' that goes on in here.

When the sun shines through the blown glass windows they cast a shadow that  illustrates what I like to think a giggle might look like if it were visible instead of audible.

This house...home to my inspiration.
Photo of the Day - a chance encounter with sunlight on the wall, the ripple of glass. 

Be Still

This clock has not kept time since I moved from my apartment ....now going on 35 years. I figure it doesn't really have to, there must be ten clocks in this house, all running, all wrong.

I don't mess with it, it's old and beautiful and enjoys the sun.
Its silent and reminds me that there are those moments when time does indeed...stand still.

I should try this...just be still.

Sponge-worthy

Happy New Year

It's early, and I couldn't sleep, I was thinking about times when I thought...even though it wasn't "my fault" it was my "job" to clean it up. 

I am always subject to take off when I hear there is  need for a clean-up on Aisle 3.   But you know, as I "mature" I start to conserve emotional energy and think...really? 

Perhaps it is Alien Intelligence...it's very logical.

I'll be listening to the Aliens.