Of Crayons and Yarn and Lighting Candles in the Dark….

When I was a little girl I used to make books to give my family for Christmas.
It made me feel alive,  this way of putting my love onto paper with crayons and pencil
and binding together simple books with staples or yard to say a fountain of love
and I see you and you have me always on your side.
To share what I felt and saw and hoped and held dear.

I remember feeling that if I put my whole heart into  it, then I’d have nothing to regret.
Then I  could lose the fear that my voice would get snatched and leave my life unsaid.
I remember wanting so hard to say the things,  to give my heart,
to hold hands with both heaven and earth and tug the veil thin
so that the light that I heard,  the music and motion,
might warm some cold places when a chill set in.
I dreamed to paint the beauty that I felt.

It’s taken me a lifetime to become like a child again,
my work-worn hands itching to make words on paper still, but how?
Well this year life made a way,  slowed down,  and threw me a line
and I grabbed hold and started birthing something been long brewing in my heart.
Something I can offer up tangible,  like a fireside built,  where we can gather peaceful
and soak in the warmth and let it serve up some balm
that I hope may nudge breath back into hope gone tired
or burned right down to the nub.

Some of the words and images you’ve met here before,
served up fresh and easy to gift;
others are new offerings carved in the dirt of this challenging year.
I’ve felt them in my parts and prayers,  the hurting hearts all around,
and I sensed it strong to dive deep,  drawing up some singing water to share,
stringing together words and making art
because it seemed the only way I knew to get my hands messy and do something
to help light candles in the dark.

This book-making thing was way harder than I dreamed
and yet Grace showed up and did what she does
when you can’t muster the gumption but you take another tiny step anyway,
and somehow you’re swept jagged into holy current
even as your bum bruises sharp on the rocks,
and you arrive sputtering
with something
to offer up
in your hands
even
so.

Offering it to you now
with tired and giddy hands
because I really,  really want to tell you something good.

Pre-orders available now on my new website now.
https://www.singingriverstudios.com/

 

“Love is or it ain’t.
Thin love ain’t no love at all.”
-Toni Morrison

Congratulations to Cathy Burns – we drew your name!
I’ll be sending you an art journal I made.  With a whole lot of love:)
This week I’d like to gift one of my books – it will come right to your door
hopefully the second week of December.
(This thing was born to be a Christmas present:))
Leave a comment and your name goes in the hat!

Of brilliance, bobble and belonging….

I’ve been sweet on the art of encouragement for as long as I can remember,
feeling somersaults of thanks for every bit of balm
that helps a soul get out of bed another morning and pull on fresh clothes
over dreams burned down to the nub.
Like gentle shoes for blistered feet,
so a broken heart can go on making fresh tracks in hard places anyway.
I’ve received them like clean cold water in hot swelter,  words
that give my bones a new song,
and breeze that makes my breath
churn fresh hope
and I love it
when someone
takes
the
time.

And so
I’ve cultivated this thing
until it blooms hardy in my garden
because I’ve struggled through drought
and have come to carry water everywhere I go.
I’ve felt it deep how a drink of clean healing river
can be tipping point in a full blown collision between life and death and
I’d drive a watertruck of it for you,  if I could – a freight train of encouragement
coming ’round the mountain of your dry places
until you’re filling up on love
that writes a stream of poems across your weary back,
easing air back into places that somehow forgot how to breathe.

I want to splatter it across the thirst of your sky,
a waterfall of welcome
for who you are,
that even in pain and conflict,
in the beauty and the bruising,
it’s sweet magic that you’re even here and this place just
wouldn’t be the music without you.

Wherever you are,  in whatever way,
I honor every thump of your heart
– such a beautiful rhythm.
And every brave step that you take or even weigh
that inches you toward your next have-a-go.

In the noise and gravel of this critical climate,
oh please hear your name called affectionate across the clamor
by smiling voice so choked up with affection
that it can’t keep quiet over the art of who you are.
Over all of your brilliance and bobbles
there hums a love too strong to be silenced,
and though it crackles across the static on the line,
it’s there for you to open like a letter from your long ago
and not yet
that in the quaking of this season
you are cherished,  held and seen.

Passing the note,  love ……..your belonging runs deep.


“I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic
than to love people.”
– Vincent Van Gogh

Another giveaway this week – I have some new journals to share
and want to offer up the first one to you.
Just plunk a comment in the box and I’ll draw from the names next week.
9I’m back from making something soon ready to share
and will be around regular again now:)