“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
Find Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland at Goodreads
I hope that people look at the art and feel like we’ve shared something. So that inspires me – the fact that I can connect with people through the artwork is important. – Liese Chavez
These oak stairs lead down to the snarls of dress-up clothes, all toulle and apron strings on the floor, to the computer where I write and where we try to make sense of money, and to the couch where we play board games and watch movies on the boxy TV.
The stairs carry us up to bedrooms — all three. The ones periwinkle and the one restful, juicy blue. The one with the bunks, the one with the books and toys and the room where we talk and love.
I can’t be numb when I go down the stairs, or when I go up. It’s this life I’ve been given. This going upstairs. This going down, one by one.
Read the full post at Draw Near
It’s such a perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you
Such a perfect day
Visit the website for Lou Reed
Youtube Post by TaCleoh
And still, years into it, one questions what is one’s ‘real work’ and how to be faithful to the work, how to show greater patience. How to be patient with one’s life, with the lives of others.
And maybe, also, the further we delve into our ‘real work’ the more we are aware of its dimensions, which expand and contract at once.
In some strange way, I think part of my work is to walk through the suburbs, quietly, patiently, noticing.
The rose bush hedges along the grey fences, for example. The way things decline, the way things bloom.
Reposted from the blog Calm Things
Shawna Lemay’s book of poetry, Asking, will be released next spring. View more works on her website.
Sometimes things happen that test our faith. But how can we truly see what is beautiful if we do not know what is ugly, or if we do not experience hardship? — From Sliding on the Snow Stone
It is astonishing that anyone lived this story. It is even more astonishing that anyone survived it. Stefan grows up in the grip of a raging famine. Stalin’s Five Year Plan brings genocide to Ukraine – millions of people starve to death. To free themselves from the daily terrors of Soviet rule, Stefan and his friends fight imaginary battles in nearby woods to defend their land. The games they play are their only escape. ‘Sliding on the Snow Stone’ is the true story of Stefan’s extraordinary journey across a landscape of hunger, fear and devastating loss. –From Goodreads
Find Sliding on the Snow Stone at Goodreads
In a stirring series of paintings, Beverly McIver explores the complexities of African American female identity. But just as striking, are her scenes of love, sacrifice and loss, which depict the universal story of family bonds . The documentary Raising Renee follows Beverly’s struggle to care for her mentally handicapped sister after the death of their mother. Embrace captures an intimate moment with Renee.
Beverly McIver is a Professor of Art at North Carolina Central University.
View more paintings by Beverly McIver at her website
Here’s the truth. When I say “no” to what feeds and fills me, when I decide something else matters more than doing what lights me up- I become empty. And when I’m empty, I miss the beauty of Here.
This morning before I exercised or cleared the breakfast dishes off the table, before I let myself get sucked into other people’s words via this amazing internet, I put on my magic painting apron, lit three candles, took a couple of big gulps of smoothie and began. I began by pouring little bits of magenta, turquoise, orange, yellow, white etc…onto that piece of cut glass I got just for this purpose. I began with an urgency, with heart pumping faster, I began while repeating these words in my head: Please, please let me get out of the way so what wants to come through will come through. Please let me get out of the way. Please let me get out of the way.
While I repeated these words, I dipped fingers into color and as color started filling empty space, I let myself breathe. There was a hunger there I can’t describe, as though my life and sanity depended on me putting paint on canvas in that moment. As I continued, I was aware of those mean voices in my head – the ones that tell me what I can’t do, the ones that tell me I’m wasting paint and time, the ones that insist I should be exercising the fat off my body instead of playing with paint.
But I kept dipping fingers, mixing color, allowing some deeper, quieter part of me to guide the process. And as I continued to breathe and paint, a flood of emotions came and started dripping, and the words in my head then became - thank you, thank you, thank you.
Read the full post at Painted Path
I am grateful for the winter
for the winter comes to show
that our trouble is never over
and our work is never done
But with the turning of the season
we will always see the sun
And the sound it makes
is an honest song
Our hearts sing an honest song
More music from Noah Gundersen
Youtube Post by danpowell53
To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. –Nelson Mandela