Two hours in an Uber. No music. No words. Just me, forced into the stillness I've been preaching. And wouldn't you know it — that's exactly when clarity showed up uninvited.
More questions than answers, but I hear you. Quiet. Stillness. Regrouping. Assessing. But not seeing your daughter for two years? People smoking and drinking and compulsively talking? Exhausting. Rest. Recover. Welcome clarity.
I designed a pendant yesterday -an abstract compass in ebony and silver - then added an anchor cause-well, sometimes you need an anchor AND a compass and you are the third writer I've read today who mentions a compass. So that's a thing.
The other day, I went for a morning walk by myself, and although the poem isn't anywhere near finished, the first thing I knew was what the title would be: "Compass." So I guess my spirit is in the same club as yours.
I just wanted to say I recently received the Color of Angels journal. I love it. Thank you for sharing it. Your writing makes me think about and see myself in a whole new way. I'm thankful for the nudge that directed me to you.
Oh friend — that journal holds more than paint. That piece, Color of Angels, was the first painting that unfroze my soul after the weight of COVID. I thought I was just playing with color that day, but my soul had other plans. What poured out of me were the souls of humanity — every color, every shape, every story — all standing in line for what we’ve been told is “heaven.”
But I believe heaven isn’t something we reach after death.
I believe it’s alignment with our soul.
Right here. Right now.
And I believe that when someone holds this journal, they’re not just holding a product.
They’re holding a reminder of that alignment.
So thank you — not just for supporting the work, but for receiving it in the way your soul clearly did. That means everything.
Believe that feeling you were feeling in the quietness was somewhat withdrawal from all of the chaos. But for sure, all ideas come from the Great Void. Keep listening!
Recovery is good. There is only one thing I am struggling with a little. Maximizing. I’m kind of maxed out. Seems like everything in society is about the max.
Yet, this year has been about expanding for me. Lately…it’s been my waistline 🤪😂, but overall, it’s been my heart.
Becoming aware of the state of my heart. How am I treating it? Where is my heart expanding? Where does it need to open up? Where have I opened it to abuse? Neglect? Over work?
How do I mend the wounds? Past, present…?
Seems my heart is like a blossom. Unfolding, expanding, occasionally dropping petals. Blooming.
I have 4 grandkids nearby. They are 4, 2 1/2, and a set of 3 month old twins. My heart opened new chambers for Skye and Eli, the new twins. My heart longed for answers from above and below and right here and now for Eli. He has an extra chromosome, which adds to his charm and his challenges. My daughter and son-in-law are in a never ending cycle of diapers, sleepless nights—maxing out.
Three more children live 20 minutes away. They face mounting pressures from owning shops and businesses that are struggling. Health issues that took way too long to resolve. Unmet needs, uncertain futures, longings for change—while hating change at the same time. Yet, they are here. They show up for each other as they can. And they expand my heart.
I’m here to help. Expanding and contracting as my own body, my own heart demands. Knees and back max out, even when the heart is full. So I work when I can, and retreat when I must.
I watch my husband of 47 years turn into a patient papa. And my heart expands. He pitches in when he sees me wear out. He gets down on the floor to play. He remembers to bring snacks for the preschoolers when he picks them up from school. As he nears 70, he is still working part time. The money helps. But he’s not all about the money and the work any more. He is about …us…our family. He counsels those with businesses. He fixes computer problems. He too, is here to help. And the love expands.
I could write about a lot of “shit” that’s happened this year. Sure, swearing, drinking, health problems, communication problems, money problems…go on and on. But as the year nears its end, I look at what’s held fast. I look at expansion of my family…my heart. The problems will be here tomorrow. Some will resolve. New ones will crop up.
But in the stillness, I know my heart is expanding.
More questions than answers, but I hear you. Quiet. Stillness. Regrouping. Assessing. But not seeing your daughter for two years? People smoking and drinking and compulsively talking? Exhausting. Rest. Recover. Welcome clarity.
I designed a pendant yesterday -an abstract compass in ebony and silver - then added an anchor cause-well, sometimes you need an anchor AND a compass and you are the third writer I've read today who mentions a compass. So that's a thing.
Now that’s a wink from the universe.
A compass and an anchor? Yes, please.
Because sometimes the way forward isn’t mapped — it’s felt.
And sometimes what you really need is to sit still long enough to feel it.
That’s what that two-hour Uber ride gave me. Not a plan. Not clarity. Just enough quiet to hear the next true thing.
And the fact that you’ve now read “compass” three times in a day? That’s not a coincidence. That’s a breadcrumb.
Follow it.
The other day, I went for a morning walk by myself, and although the poem isn't anywhere near finished, the first thing I knew was what the title would be: "Compass." So I guess my spirit is in the same club as yours.
This sounds excellent. Unfortunately, it's not in the budget so I'll wait for the free bits. Thank you for sharing!
I just wanted to say I recently received the Color of Angels journal. I love it. Thank you for sharing it. Your writing makes me think about and see myself in a whole new way. I'm thankful for the nudge that directed me to you.
Oh friend — that journal holds more than paint. That piece, Color of Angels, was the first painting that unfroze my soul after the weight of COVID. I thought I was just playing with color that day, but my soul had other plans. What poured out of me were the souls of humanity — every color, every shape, every story — all standing in line for what we’ve been told is “heaven.”
But I believe heaven isn’t something we reach after death.
I believe it’s alignment with our soul.
Right here. Right now.
And I believe that when someone holds this journal, they’re not just holding a product.
They’re holding a reminder of that alignment.
So thank you — not just for supporting the work, but for receiving it in the way your soul clearly did. That means everything.
Thank you for sharing this backstory. It makes it even more meaningful and beautiful.
Believe that feeling you were feeling in the quietness was somewhat withdrawal from all of the chaos. But for sure, all ideas come from the Great Void. Keep listening!
Recovery is good. There is only one thing I am struggling with a little. Maximizing. I’m kind of maxed out. Seems like everything in society is about the max.
Yet, this year has been about expanding for me. Lately…it’s been my waistline 🤪😂, but overall, it’s been my heart.
Becoming aware of the state of my heart. How am I treating it? Where is my heart expanding? Where does it need to open up? Where have I opened it to abuse? Neglect? Over work?
How do I mend the wounds? Past, present…?
Seems my heart is like a blossom. Unfolding, expanding, occasionally dropping petals. Blooming.
I have 4 grandkids nearby. They are 4, 2 1/2, and a set of 3 month old twins. My heart opened new chambers for Skye and Eli, the new twins. My heart longed for answers from above and below and right here and now for Eli. He has an extra chromosome, which adds to his charm and his challenges. My daughter and son-in-law are in a never ending cycle of diapers, sleepless nights—maxing out.
Three more children live 20 minutes away. They face mounting pressures from owning shops and businesses that are struggling. Health issues that took way too long to resolve. Unmet needs, uncertain futures, longings for change—while hating change at the same time. Yet, they are here. They show up for each other as they can. And they expand my heart.
I’m here to help. Expanding and contracting as my own body, my own heart demands. Knees and back max out, even when the heart is full. So I work when I can, and retreat when I must.
I watch my husband of 47 years turn into a patient papa. And my heart expands. He pitches in when he sees me wear out. He gets down on the floor to play. He remembers to bring snacks for the preschoolers when he picks them up from school. As he nears 70, he is still working part time. The money helps. But he’s not all about the money and the work any more. He is about …us…our family. He counsels those with businesses. He fixes computer problems. He too, is here to help. And the love expands.
I could write about a lot of “shit” that’s happened this year. Sure, swearing, drinking, health problems, communication problems, money problems…go on and on. But as the year nears its end, I look at what’s held fast. I look at expansion of my family…my heart. The problems will be here tomorrow. Some will resolve. New ones will crop up.
But in the stillness, I know my heart is expanding.
Ah, but that’s the thing. I’m not talking about society’s version of maximizing.
This isn’t about doing more. It’s about finally doing what matters — and letting the rest fall away.
I’m not here to push women past their limits.
I’m here to invite them into their own rhythm.
To stop over-functioning, stop fixing, stop caretaking everyone else’s chaos…
And start listening for what’s next in their own life.
Maximizing, in my world, doesn’t mean bigger.
It means truer.