coming into focus

I am learning to embrace myself. To not be so self conscious, so full of doubt. I am learning to get out of my own way. To be gentle. I'm learning to reach for my dreams and quiet the constant wanting of my heart - which is probably not my heart at all...but my mind, my ego making promises in the future. You'll be happy when... like trying to set the time by dandelion fluff.

I am asking myself what's really important to me? over and over again, so that I don't forget. So that I don't get sucked into what's not important. Like getting all the laundry done - or television.

I'm learning to center myself around what is important to me. The joy of creating, acts of nurture, my little boy's laughter, loving those I love. I am still asking myself what is important and what do I want - but I'm also recognizing what is already here now. Those things that once started as that very question. I'm learning to recognize and honor the grace in my journey - learning to savor the adventure of it all.

lonesome

We've been here for 3 and half months. It feels like we've been here a year already. And yet as the season changes I remember that I've not ever experienced Autumn here - or Winter for that matter. And then, of course there's Spring. We've had visitors and projects, trips and outings. In other words, we've kept quite busy. But all along there's been this little sadness. When the visitors are really more the hubby's friends than mine. When my best friend comes out and I'm so happy but somewhere in the back there's that part of me that's always looking forward and I know, I know - she has to go home soon.
And so the sadness has been. A quiet lulling blanket, like Winter's snow. I hardly notice it at all anymore. Until it changes. Until I begin to notice the warm thawing of a new acquaintance, that might be a new friend. And although my loneliness seems to slowly be turning itself over - to a new sense of community, to new possibility and a wonderful new home, I know the coldness is still there. I've learned that it has always been there, waiting. Even in that old home. Moving has made it more poignant. Moving has taken my comfort and security that I used to keep it at bay. But in fact, there is always that awkwardness about myself. It's all my sense of loss and fear. It the quiet desperation of wanting so badly to be accepted and loved. And wondering if it will happen. It's my inner adolescent without the cool disguise.
And just like adolescents, what I've come to appreciate about this loneliness is that it is something that needs embracing. It's okay to feel lonesome. We all do.

"The trouble with loneliness is that there's no one to share it with."

I found that last quote somewhere I don't remember. I would love, love, love to know where it came from - a wise soul , no doubt. If you know, please share. That beautiful truism needs an author line.

don't should on your friends

My life seems full of shoulds...I should do this, I should do that. I shouldn't have done this. Guilt, regret.
And sometimes it's learning to let those things go.
So I feed the little boy a Popsicle for breakfast.
I should write more. Take more pictures. Laugh more often. Lighten up. Be in the moment. Enjoy.
It's a hard thing to do when I'm beating myself up for what I should have done.

And so it goes.
The days are getting shorter. And the shadows longer. The air crisp like a clean sheet of paper.
Waiting for what I should do.
And in the mean time, I'm just trying to lighten up.
Or decide if I shouldn't just learn to appreciate myself the way I am.
It's a little upside down and inside out.
Crazy.

today

I'm obviously catching up on my posting...I'm sure I was going through withdraws. I thought you'd enjoy this. Today we made rock shoe soup with a large side of golden lab. What a perfect way to end summer.

be fri and st ends

I wrote this post Thursday, last week - but alas we've been without internet forever ... okay only for about a week. So this post hasn't been able to make its way out into the Universe until now..

we sit for hours under the stars, chatting. sharing those parts of ourselves too tender or ridiculous to share elsewhere. she hears those parts of me that have been aching for company in a new lonesome town. she listens with compassion as I mark off the lists of reasons why I'm sure I'm an unfit mother. we talk about our relationships with our husbands and our mothers. when I'm unsure or off center, she feeds me kind words and understanding. it seems as we stare into the sky and share our dreams of who we will become, that she believes in me more than I believe in myself at times. her belief gives me courage. she shares her amazement at my little life here in the country and I'm reminded of all I have to be grateful for. albeit, she's miles away from me now. when she pulls out of our drive after four blissful days of sisterhood, I gulp back tears and then sob. I had overlooked my love for her when she was just a block away. I'd not noticed the depth of my caring for her. I underestimated the comfort I received. she's my be fri and I'm her st ends. .
Unafraid to be girly girls together - truly best friends.

welcome to mama's sacred studio space

A place where nothing is thrown or broken by anyone but mama.
A place mama comes to rest her tired soul when she's worn thin and ragged and rumpled.
A place where she's just enough - as is.
And the only demands here are the ones she puts on herself.
It's a place where she finds herself again and again, as long and as many times as she needs to.
A place away from any unwanted distractions.
A place of quiet, peace and joy.
Fill up child, you are nurtured here. You are deeply cared for.
There is nothing here that has to be done - or undone.
Just you and this quiet perfect moment.

I wrote this one evening a few weeks ago. In need of quiet and escape. This isn't always true of this space (as you can see by the scattered pencils and rolling pin on the floor, both done by little hands). But the moment I wrote this, when I needed it to be, it was true. My sacred escape from the demands of the day and household. I used to curl up in an empty bathtub behind a closed door when I needed an escape(and I look forward to returning to the habit as soon as we have a bathtub). There is something so absurd and comforting about climbing in an empty tub and laying down with all of your clothes on. I highly recommend it. It's like a quickie retreat for my soul and I always end up chuckling at myself. But now, I have this huge, promising space - just waiting for me!

I wished and wished for so many years to have my very own studio! And now, I do! Dreams do come true! I'm so happy to share them with you. Wishing you a bright, quiet moment that is all your own today!

Love,
Jo