The possibilities are nearly endless

The possibilities are nearly endless

Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit. — e. e. cummings

The possibilities are nearly endless when we believe in ourselves, and indeed it is the first step when trying something new.

Until a few years ago, I didn't believe in my ability to write publicly, put brush to canvas, or to live as minimally as possible while traveling extensively. And I never would have thought by using soul cards I could find the focal point of a self-discovery and creativity practice that would lead me to create a card deck of my own. And yet, here I am with newfound insights and clarity as a direct result of making those creative marks, which have left their imprint on me.

I'm creating my inspiration deck as one of several creative projects honoring 2018 as my year of Now. It is the word I chose (or perhaps it chose me) to guide my creative path after many years of processing life challenges. This is the year to switch things up.

It turns out, creating a card deck is a rather intense process with many aspects; the least of which include listening more attentively to myself and others, taking stock of past creations, being honest about my abilities, recognizing fear in its many forms. And most importantly, taking a long look at my intentions.

Having completed a year of travel after producing the Hoofen Floofen Island children's story, what better way of honoring this year of Now than by creating an inspirational card deck I'll return to again and again whenever I need a nudge ... which is almost daily! Pulling a card is the first thing I do with a full cup of coffee. Its a fun and helpful exercise to ease into my day.

If all goes well, it won't be long before the deck will be available to you also and before you know it, you'll be expressing yourself and honoring all the feels.

Join the list here, and you’ll be the first to know when the Bright Soul card deck is ready!

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Born to die

Born to die

How shall we sing our love's song now
In this strange land where all are born to die?

--Madeleine L'Engle

This. 

There are days when it is crystal clear how to sing my daughter's love song, of birth and of death. On this day, my heart is full of gentle memories of her birth. She barely made a peep when her life first began. Although she certainly made up for that later, anyone who knew her will wholeheartedly agree. 

Lena loved life, needed to experience it ALL, and wanted to have fun. As she says in her children's story, "and everywhere you could hear the laughs of us."

And so, today I am reminded to love better, to experience fully and to enjoy it. 

Ms. L'Engle's poem in its entirety ...

“The earth will never be the same again
Rock, water, tree, iron, share this grief
As distant stars participate in the pain.
A candle snuffed, a falling star or leaf,
A dolphin death, O this particular loss
A Heaven-mourned; for if no angel cried
If this small one was tossed away as dross,
The very galaxies would have lied.
How shall we sing our love's song now
In this strange land where all are born to die?
Each tree and leaf and star show how
The universe is part of this one cry,
Every life is noted and is cherished,
and nothing loved is ever lost or perished."

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Searching for Clues

Searching for Clues

What do you do when searching for clues? Not the easily found online answers of where to find the best sushi, or how to build a boat. Rather the super humongous questions, as in, why am I here.  Or the more tangible, what am I going to do about it? Or the most important, what am I doing today?

Nowadays, I start by meditating. I used to ask Mom. But then she died. I can ask her in my mind, of course. "Hey Mom, what do you think about this direction?" I could always count on her for an honest answer or her even more honest "hmm." It no longer feels silly talking to the dead. If a response isn't forthcoming, I'll take that as her "hmm."

I also consult the living ... my hubby, a long-distance friend, or a colleague. So this week, I reached out to all the above when stuck on how I might honor my daughter, Lena's, upcoming birthdate and promote her children's story, "Hoofen Floofen Island" at the same time. Two birds, one stone. 

Brainstorming ensued, logistics discussed on connecting the children's story to my "work" themes of vulnerability, living and loving after child loss,  and revisiting short and long-term plans. The outcomes of these interactions remain undefined.  I'm giving myself permission to experiment without worrying about getting distracted or missed deadlines. 

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