Creativity

  • My Contribution

    I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I keep my distance from the news. I have to, because the moment I face the full ache of this thing, I feel the pain of the entire world. Already, I’ve… Continue reading

  • Creative Adventures

    My beautiful bloggy friends. I’ve abandoned you, and I’m so sorry. The truth is, I had a beautiful burst of inspiration on my walk today (as often does happen when I’m out walking) and I was going to post while… Continue reading

  • To Dream

    Where is this life that I cannot catch, that springs and curls like the loveliest vine around the spirit of me. The sun falls on my back, and I run toward the open ocean. The sand is warm between my… Continue reading

  • Rainbow

    Is this a rainbow I see reaching through the collective heart of the dreamers? Wide eyes open, lovely dreamers. You were made to shine the most beautiful lights on the world. Continue reading

  • A Little Time Away

    My dear bloggy friends, I’ve been thinking on a more practical level (which, let me tell you, is highly unusual in the world of this cloud bouncing dreamer) and my thoughts have led me to a little bloggy holiday. I’m… Continue reading

  • Words

    Words roll in and out of me like breath. I can’t imagine not reading and writing, just as I can’t imagine what it might be like never to breathe again. Sometimes the words I write make no sense to me,… Continue reading

  • Wild Geese: Mary Oliver

    A friend gifted me a beautiful copy. The words were swirly, and letterpressed onto white rippled cardboard, and when I read it—Wild Geese, a poem by Mary Oliver—I just knew there was no one in the world that needed it… Continue reading

  • The Deep End Of Me

    If I love you: Today, you feel like all the pink clouds in my sky.   If I miss you: Today, I ache for what we make the world when we are together.   If I know you: Today, I… Continue reading

  • The Cupboard of Unfinished Things

    It happens every year. The wool balls enter the stores in preparation for winter, and my brain enters a frenzy of the most bizarre kind. You see, I’m not really a knitter. And yet, every year, as soon as the first wool… Continue reading

  • Coming Home

    Let this heart I wear on my sleeve draw all of its letters in the sand… not just the ones I think you will like me for. And in that sand, let there be scribbles of the past, the present,… Continue reading