[Taken near Squam Lake, New Hampshire last week.]

I keep trying to write this blog entry, and I keep deleting everything I write.  But my time to work quietly while Tilda sleeps is precious, so I can’t continue using it up here when I have, um, a book to write.  So bear with me as I let loose with a free form brain dump.

I headed to Squam Art Workshops (SAW) just over a week ago feeling incredibly peaceful inside despite an emotionally rocky week just before.  Creating these tiny notes and sending them all over the world was just the exercise I needed to pull my focus outside of my self ~ a reminder that each and every one of us is struggling, carrying, and/or working through something difficult on any given day.  I headed to SAW with so much compassion and gratitude in my heart, wanting every single person I came into contact with to feel some sense of that awareness on my part ~ the awareness of their vulnerabilities and tender spots.  Not for any kind of recognition towards me, but so that for those few moments ~ maybe without really being able to explain why ~ they felt more seen, or a tiny bit more centered, or a little more safe.

It was a beautiful weekend, which started with Ms. My Red Tutu and I enjoying a tiny trip to Maine before making our way to SAW, where I soaked in all the beauty, laughter, fierceness, passion, and courage of all those who gathered for four days of creative adventure, which I will write more about later.  For now, I have to share that my re-entry back home has been a wee bit bumpy, and I’m feeling rather raw and exposed at the moment.

During my first couple of days on the east coast, I had an almost overwhelming urge to find an internet cafe so I could post a follow-up entry to this one, wanting to express the love and light that swept into my heart after the dark clouds of the previous week cleared.  I wanted to clarify that I did not lose hope as much as I released it, and that the letting go was the greatest gift I could have given to myself.  I was having a difficult time letting those last few entries hang there, feeling like I had left rotten fruit out, wishing I could go back and drape some kind of pretty fabric over it so that there was always something nice to look at.

Having said all of that, I can tell you that I am still feeling rather wobbly inside, but I am getting my work done.  I experienced a week of internal calm last week that I didn’t know I was capable of, and that hasn’t gone away.  Yesterday I unpacked and did my laundry, today I’ll ship some orders.  In between I’m training Tilda, working on my book, and eating peanut butter toast.  I’m in the thick of deadlines, an upcoming show, family events, and life with a puppy.  I’m seeing where I need to take better care of myself and working towards creating the support system I’ll need to make small but significant adjustments here and there.  I’m discerning where I need to engage and when I need to stay still.  I’m breathing, I’m laughing, I’m taking it all in.

“Let yourself be open and life will be easier.  A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable.  A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed.” ~Buddha