Today is the release of my first print publication. Actual ink on paper, if you can imagine that. In early October I answered a call for submissions to Our Human Family’s first print magazine, and was accepted with a work about what it’s like to finally see, and then challenge, the invisible circles that contain our childhood. If you’ve read any part of weekendswell, Continue reading “Editing your history”
The rules say how you think and what you believe are the most important things.
The dare looks at how you live and who you love, and later looks back later to notice, “Oh, that’s what you believe”
The rules say Continue reading “The Rules”
Just to recap: Season 1 opened with Continue reading “Welcome to Season 4”
Back from vacation, with my brain as slow as a lime in an oceanside cerveza. Only now can I see how much my mind works overtime. Like the 405 freeway every brain lane is full, with thoughts honking and swerving to pass each other, overloading themselves to get into that carpool lane and move.
But now, clear air. Wide open country lanes are few but free, ideas fueling the engine to get things in motion.
The freedom comes NOT from multi-multi-multi-tasking, not from getting it all done so that it would be all done.
Instead: Continue reading “Breathing Still”
Some days I want to stay inside the house, inside myself, like Emily Dickinson. It’s all too fuzzy to bring out into the light.
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To Tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!
But somehow tucked away inside that 1860’s Massachusetts home she dared the gap between herself and her paper.
Sparking from the paper to the world, was for her, too wide a gap, and I can quite see why – Continue reading “The Writer’s Hammer”
It’s been a stretch of formlessness creatively, waiting for change to spark. More creative input than output. After writing about and for change, it’s been good to drop the agenda and just breathe.
It could seem empty unless I close my eyes and see the change already at work, hovering over the waters.
Inhale, exhale. Continue reading “The Hovering”
The faces stare me down with unbalanced eyes and colors swirling. Fixed on a museum canvas, only imagination could add to Van Gogh’s story of their lives. Until last night, Continue reading “Loving Vincent”