It's been a tough summer
It rained through most of June.
There has been a multitude of "stuff"
Lots of little stuff
One or two big stuffs
But I know the best way out from under "stuff" is with gratitude
For sunshine ☀️, thank you for finally getting here.
For all the two legged and four legged beings
that care about me.
And of course grateful for Boysenberries
This is so much truer than I ever thought.
Life can change in the blink of an eye.
Or just choosing to change the lens you view the world through.
Today, I’m choosing a farm ripened organic strawberry len
They call it summer love
There had been a lot of growth during this sketchbook. Both in skill set
The black and white was done about a year ago, the watercolor was done last night.
But also growth in intention.
Growth in self control
Growth in forward vision
While there is a slight melancholy about the ending of this sketchbook, there is great positive energy about what comes next.
What does come next?
We are so busy forgiving everyone for everything.
Are we remembering to forgive ourselves?
Especially for things we didn’t know we didn’t know?
Everything we do has a ripple effect.
For making things good.
For creating harm.
For building someone up or
crushing them like an insignificant bug.
Which side of history (even your tiny corner of history) do you want to be on?
What is your legacy?
Hopefully my legacy is one of hope
During an ice storm a few years ago a beautiful old weeping cherry fell over in the yard. I left the roots and fallen stump because there was beauty in the mossy bark and it was a perfect home for Buddha
Over the years the tree has started re-growing and the most amazing microcosm has formed. The leaves have aphids, which brings tiny black beetles who eat the aphids, which brings bushtits to eat the tiny beetles and aphids.
Bushtits are itty bitty little birds who happily twitter in the weeping cherry not a foot from my head and bring me great joy, for which I am grateful
If artists only showed their best art.
If singers only performed when their voices were sublime.
If pianists only went on stage when they had perfected their craft.
Sing, dance, make imperfect art.
We can all create beauty.
For ourselves and everyone who lost their way
There have been many times I’ve wanted to say stop this week.
To world events,
Mostly to the atrocities and hate we seem to be heaping on each other.
Just stop…… please
Some days we make all the right choices,
Some days we don’t.
The decision is ours alone to make