Happy Belated Valentines Day to all you good people and, hopefully, readers out there! Since I haven't touched base for while, I thought I would give you the low down.

I am still teaching art and loving it, feeding that creative side of me - though I miss writing. But there are times in life when you just need to step back from things and take a look around. As an artist, I call that gaining perspective. In this hustle and bustle world of Facebook rants and fragile opinions, taking time out to think something thoroughly through has become a rare event. Kind of like those movies that slow down the action to show what the character is imagining might happen - Should I stop at this intersection to look both ways, or should I plow right through? - pondering can not only help us formulate our plans, but might just save us from making a huge mistake. 

I've slowed down to look around a lot lately, taking a break from some of the "extras" in my schedule. While I love singing with a local hospice choir, time off from it has allowed me to focus my energies on healing my own body, and spending more time with my family. Not everything we give up is bad for us; sometimes it is just a matter of prioritizing. That holds true for writing as well, for me at least. Even though becoming an author was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, the road forward was fraught with so many speed bumps and barriers  (not to mention wrong turns and extra mileage; see former posts) that I wondered sometimes if I was even on the right road. Being the smart cookie that I am, I pulled off the road to check my map and ask for directions. I yielded to the times rather than barrel through them hoping to come out the other side unscathed. 

Sticking with the automotive metaphor, if you were behind me you might have gotten frustrated when I slowed down to look around, maybe even cursed me out (I hope not), and flipped me off as you sped by when I pulled over. But I really hope you are still with me. Goodness knows I could use the company on this journey! Because.... all signs are indicating that it might be time to move forward again. Emrysia, here we come!

Story ideas have been overflowing like the sweet, maple sap soon to take priority in this neck of the woods. My head is reeling with new plot twists and adventures for my three, brave heroines; they have been waiting far too long for their tale to continue. Last month I was contacted to give another book talk, and am looking forward to it in just a few days. And just last week, out of the blue, I was contacted by a marketing/publishing company in California that hopes to partner with me in promoting my work. Not that I'm going down that road, but still, it was nice they showed interest.

I hope you still do, too.

My takeaway from this - and hopefully yours, too - is that yielding can lead to smoother flow - in life, in writing, and all along the road. 

​

Here's to continuing the journey, and happy travels!

A lot can happen in a year - births, deaths, life changing events and days of routine sameness - all of it water under the bridge. Learning to savor the variety of its flavors as life rushes by is what reflection is all about. Knowing oneself, and recognizing the value of all that is. Imperfections lead us toward perfection when we admit to, and learn from them. This year, like most others, I have done a lot of growing because, upon reflection, I have seen much need for growth.

My year began with a painful sense of resignation. The writing was going nowhere, book sales had tanked, and I had little to no ambition to resurrect them. With three kids still in college, and fifth that will likely expect to go someday, I was feeling the familiar weight of my inability to contribute to the family finances. So what did I do? Began subbing occasionally at school, and accepted a part-time housecleaning position. The rationalization was that it would become my new workout, wouldn't take up any brainpower, and would leave plenty of time to write when that train finally got back on track. I also chopped off my long blond hair, settling for a silvering pixie-cut. 

By mid-March my WIP still waited, mocking me every time I sat down at my desk. Besides low self-esteem, I was having serious issues with my back and the ensuing lack of sleep; not a good recipe for creativity. While we began the hunt for a new mattress, I decided to cut myself some slack and take time off from writing until I felt well again.

Spring came and went with another child graduating from college, and our eldest securing a well-paying job. Subbing ended, but by then I had been offered a part-time position teaching art. I would have the whole summer to plan. As August approached it occurred to me that I didn't miss writing, in fact, was less stressed than when I was constantly beating myself up over it. I may not be a top selling author but - by gum! - I do know how to tidy a home, and to share my love of art! It felt good to have my efforts appreciated, even though it meant lowering my career expectations. Again.

My only fear was another total derailment.

By summer's end my back was still an issue, so, after way too many tests to determine why, I began physical therapy. Despite constant discomfort, I thoroughly enjoyed teaching again. The relationship I'd developed with the couple I clean for became another source of joy, as did the weekly greeting I received from their "herd" of cocker spaniels. As physical therapy finally began to pay off, I noticed a change in my attitude as well. I was - am - content. Life has me exactly where it should; learning to be a better person. The lesson is being served, not as I had hoped or expected it would be, but just as is needed at this time. This moment of clarity finds me seeing the lesson, tasting, and finding it good as it flows on around me.

Adequate sleep also helps.

I will get back to writing when and if the time is right, though I may never again pursue promoting my work with the same life-draining vigor. In the meantime, I am enjoying being an average working schmo. And if, occasionally, someone discovers my books...? Well, that's good, too. 

*The photo is of my youngest journaling beside the Passumpsic River during a class outing. So thankful for her - our - school!

What I love most about this time of year is just what you see in the above photo, taken only moments ago: snowflakes coming down soft and silent, though heavy enough to have layered 8 inches of fresh, white powder over the foot of packed accumulation of the last two weeks. All is peaceful. Calm.  Winter has come early.

Today is a day made for sitting inside by the fire, nestled in blankets and sipping Earl Grey, the smell of cookies baking in the oven. But... in less than an hour I will brave the elements, slip-sliding off the mountain all the way to school, where a noisy classroom of fourteen fifth-graders waits to finish their Outside of the Box building challenge. And I'm looking forward to it.

Teaching art has become my new winter sport, transforming this burrowing-in, couch potato artist/writer into a lively, engaged inspire-er of creativity. It is getting me out of my own box to see the hidden beauty of EVERY day.

It is nourishing me to grow them.

​Who knew winter could be so bountiful?

Today is a big day!

After a long, hot summer of preparation, I am beginning an exciting new venture. The tables are scrubbed, materials gathered and sorted, and lesson plans tweaked in anticipation of this next chapter; the hard work is done. Now comes play time! I am the new art teacher at my daughter's school!

I have taught before; as a visiting drawing instructor for 2nd & 4th graders back in my former life, one-on-one art lessons for various home-schooled and adult students over the years, and even music - another art form - in an earlier stint at the same Pre-K through 8th grade private school. Last year I subbed there in just about every grade, but this is different. Now I have my own classroom, and latitude to teach whatever I choose. My goal for the year is to make art fun for everyone.

Most of us have choices about whether or not to have fun, whatever we are doing. Yet, too often, we plod along in dead end jobs, stale relationships, and making the same lousy choices about our health and habits, when all it really takes to change things is a change of attitude. As an artist, I know it is all in how you see things - your perspective. Boredom is the breeding ground for creativity. With proper perspective, hard work becomes what makes you strong. Troubles become challenges to conquer, obstacles opportunities for growth. 

So, today I don't start a new part-time job; I begin a new adventure! When the students walk (slow down, please!) into that art room and sit (no tipping!) quietly (let's use our indoor voices) as I pass out supplies (pencils are not for poking! hands to ourselves, please...let's give each other plenty of room) and the magic begins (very creative! good use of line! I can tell you thought a lot about that! You kids rock!), I will be right in my element.

​What are you doing that's fun today?

While driving home the other night with the windows wide open and a fresh, warm breeze riffling my daring new pixie-cut (never could stand having my long hair whip around my face), I was singing along with the radio, reveling in the glorious weather when an oldy-but-goody favorite came on - Pat Benatar's We Belong:

Many times I tried to tell you
Many times I cried alone
Always I'm surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone
Don't want to leave you really
I've invested too much time to give you up that easy
To the doubts that complicate your mind

(Bigger because it's louder)
We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder 
We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under 
Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better 
We belong, we belong, we belong together...

Anyone who knows me knows I have pretty powerful pipes, though most of the time I use them for belting out hymns or show tunes. The rocker side of me has lain dormant for quite a few years now. But, thanks to mishearing the lyrics and replacing the word thunder with Father, I have always sung this jam more like a hymn anyhow. And on this particular evening it really struck home. 

Maybe it's a sign of weakness when I don't know what to say
Maybe I just wouldn't know what to do with my strength anyway...

I have been struggling - as many have - with how disjointed the world has become of late, how we have divided ourselves into factions: left against right, black against white, women against men, us against them - and feeling helpless to make it better. 

Have we become a habit? Do we distort the facts?
Now there's no looking forward
Now there's no turning back...

Sound familiar? How did we get caught up in this maelstrom of offence giving-and-taking, so many nasty barbs swirling out of control, wounding everyone whether they are taking part or not? How do we get past this vortex of doom into a better place?

By individually realizing that it isn't all about me, or you - but about us.

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder 
We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under 
Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better 
We belong, we belong, we belong together...

We're in it together on this cosmic speck, and none of us is getting off alive, so we better learn how to get along. In fact, that could be the whole reason we're here.

As just one person, what can I do? Well, for starters, I can use my voice to sing instead of rant. When life fails me, I can still show mercy, kindness and respect. I can look for the good in everyone and reach out in love, remembering that it isn't all about me, my beliefs, or what I want, but about all of us belonging to each other. For the sake of my brand new grand-nephew. and in memory of the far too many souls who have given up on this world because living in it was just too painful, I can do my best to put others first. I can belong to the light in spite of the darkness.

Close your eyes and try to sleep now
Close your eyes and try to dream
Clear your mind and do your best to try and wash the palette clean...

and how I sing the rest is -

We can't begin to know it, how much you really care
I hear your voice inside me, I see your face everywhere
And I say -

We belong to the light, we belong to the Father
We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under 
Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better 
We belong, we belong, we belong together.
We belong to the light, we belong to the Father
We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under 
Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better 
We belong, we belong, we belong together

*Songwriters: Daniel Anthony Navarro / David Eric Lowen

Meet Benji, the newest member of our household. He would come out and say "Hi", but he's quilling just now, and a little cranky.

I know how he feels.

When our daughter asked if she could bring home a hedgehog for the summer, I was surprised at how readily my husband agreed. He is usually the one who takes priming, while I am in favor of pets. (Good eating - he jokes - at least we won't starve!) Previously, I had to lay groundwork, convincing him over days or weeks that pets were a good idea, till eventually he would warm up to the thought of sharing his space, time, money, energy with what is essentially a child that never learns to clean up after itself. This time, however, he surprised me by agreeing before we had even had a chance to discuss it. Our daughter's witty PowerPoint on the benefits of owning a hedgehog had, if not convinced him entirely, at least softened his resolve enough to realize that anyone can endure anything for three short months. Benji was welcome, my daughter's dream come true.

Back to quilling... I had never heard of this process, but it is something immature hedgehogs do similar to cutting teeth. They loose several quills at a time as their adult quills come in - a process that is uncomfortable enough to cause hissing and "popping", and can alter a naturally sweet disposition. (I've seen similar effects in people going through changes, myself included.) It is recommended that hedgehogs continue to be handled through this period so that they learn to feel safe.

As our household adjusts to its new and returning members, I try to remind myself that transitions are hard for everyone. I can feel my defenses go up when things aren't exactly as I've grown comfortable with, feel myself getting prickly or wanting to curl up into a protective little ball. Now that I have a dedicated office/studio space, it's hard not to just retreat. Harder still to stay put and keep my quills from poking others.

Home is the perfect place to learn. Family helps all of us grow up.

I am thankful for the many opportunities our family has been given to adjust to circumstances beyond our control, for the love that surrounds us as we loose what is no longer needed to make room for a more mature way of living.

As for Benji? He and I are gonna get along just fine.