Your vibrant colors dripping from stems sighing with relief.
Renewed with life – water, copious water flowing through your veins.
Emboldened by the burst of warmth. Alive (for now*).
* I have what is known in my family as the “black thumb of death”. I’m trying to turn that around this year. So far, these outdoor plants have made it 3 days. That may be a new record for me.
What about you? Do you have a green thumb? Or is it black like mine? =)
A rare moment of silence
to sit empty, waiting to be filled.
No one else’s thoughts, feelings, emotions
to cloud my own.
There is value in recognizing bits of your soul in someone else.
Realizing our sameness, our light.
But if you always fill with someone else?
Where is there room for you? To bloom? To blossom? To be?
Sometimes I think I have nothing to say, no original thoughts.
Then I sit with a pen and paper in my hand,
and a deluge comes forth from some inner spring that flows with ideas.
Full of passion, love, zest.
But I couldn’t hear it from the noise of other people’s thoughts.
What would happen if we all took the time to sit with our own feelings, thoughts, desires?
What if we all took the time to clarify what is in our hearts?
And connected as we talked and discussed our dreams?
And I saw your true heart, and you saw my true heart.
A veritable expression of what I am, what you are.
Linking up at Julie’s Art Journal Every Day:
In the midst of a long winter, it seems like the cold will go on forever
Weeks past the Spring Equinox and winter clung to this land
Keeping it’s clutches dug in frigid snow and cold earth
Unwilling to let go.
Slowly, a subtle change
wetter snow, a few warm days.
Soon, you forget that you were so cold.
Right as you get used to the warmth on your face, you walk outside
and are met with a burst of life.
Green signifying the freeze has passed.
A reminder of the vitality of life.
How is the view from where you sit?
When I was a little girl I loved to dance.
Any kind of dance, any kind of movement.
As I grew older I started to believe as fact lies I told myself.
My hips are too tight, I have the wrong body shape, I’m not flexible, I have bad feet.
So many reasons why, if I wasn’t naturally perfect at dancing, I should just quit.
And I listened.
I reserved my dancing to moments when I was alone.
By myself I would twist and twirl, move my hands artfully through space, flowing to the music in my mind.
As I grew older and way too serious, the spontaneous dancing stopped (save the occasional dance party with my 3 year old).
I’ve been reading a book, doing a lot of internal digging, uncovering dreams I forgot I used to have.
Do I think I’m too old to have a career in dance? Certainly.
Do I feel like I am too uncoordinated to take a ballet class in public? Absolutely.
However, I’m not too old or too uncoordinated to rent dance instruction DVDs from the library and do them when no one is watching.
I’m coming to a place where I realize I can choose not to believe absolutes that I’ve told myself my whole life.
And there isn’t merely ONE way to taste my dreams.
Are there dreams you’ve given up on that you would like to experience again? In some capacity?
XO,
the budding, closet-dancer
Supplies used: an old dress pattern, Elmer’s spray glue, acrylic heavy body paint, glazing medium, Martha Stewart stencil (Arabesque), hand-carved geometric stamp, archival ink, Stabilo Marks All pencil, white out pen, image from 1984 National Geographic, matte medium, Martha Stewart metallic glass paint
“Would you believe it if you knew what you were for?” ~ Nahko
I long to reach and realize my full potential.
Will I rise or fade into oblivion,
nothing more than a woman who wanted to be more,
but never had the courage to follow her dreams?
Supplies: gelli print, india ink, Faber Castell PITT pen, hand-carved stamp, archival ink, photograph (my husband took this of me years ago – still one of my favorites)
Linking up to Carolyn’s Gelli Print Party and Julie’s Art Journal Every Day.
The thrill of a new trail in the woods.
A steady climb, round a corner -
breathtaking view.
A new perspective.
These same mountains, this same water.
A new path to enjoy the journey.
She feels a power building inside
a tingling underneath her skin
a frenetic energy ready to burst forth.
She throws back the covers,
flies down the stairs,
and tears open the door.
Her bare feet hit the wet, cold grass.
deep breath in, out
burning intensity.
She can feel it’s fullness with her eyes closed.
She flings her head back, arms wide,
and lets loose her rebel yell ‘neath the light of the full moon.
Supplies used: gelli plate print (background and body), acrylic paint, Sharpie paint pen, Necolors II water soluble wax pastel, acrylic glazing liquid
Anybody else feel a little crazy on a full moon? 
Linking up to Carolyn’s Gelli Print Party and Julie’s Art Journal Every Day.
