What Happens Next

A Backward Glance, in Black & White …

The New Year comes in cold:  the air brittle and white.  Empty.

And perhaps it sounds strange, but for now, I like the emptiness, and I’m in no hurry to fill it.  

My friends rush back and forth announcing resolutions — buying sneakers and juicers and gym memberships.  And hear me:  those things are beautiful, too. This week, though, I don’t want to make too many commitments, or hammer my goals into hard-edged words.  Instead, I want to sit still and quiet and let the lingering gratitude for 2015 sink into me.  

I want to understand where I came from — the hard and the messy and the frightening and the beautiful — so I can know what comes next.

So for now, as I spend this week in quiet contemplation, I thought I would share with you a few favorite snapshots from the previous year:  a quiet look back, in black and white:





























Much love to you, friends.  I’m believing that the best sort of magic is ahead, for us both. ❤





What Happens Next

The truth behind the quiet …

If you’ve been reading my words for awhile, you may have noticed a quiet here, building.  It’s not that I haven’t been posting; it’s just that I haven’t been saying very much.

This is a tell:  it’s something I always do before I’m about to speak.  

… A little intake of breath, I suppose.


Tomorrow, I’m going to reveal a new project to you.  It’s a simple one, but like all of my projects, it’s going to require some vulnerability from me.

Honest words?  Sharing myself in this space — my body and my story — has always been hard for me, but it’s been a little harder than usual lately.  There are more readers here than there used to be, and in recent months, a few of them have paid me more attention than I was entirely comfortable with.  It’s taken me a little while to get my head around that, to figure out how to manage it, and to decide, at last, not to let it silence me.

Because if I’ve learned anything from my little blog, it’s this:

The place just outside of my comfort zone?  That’s where the magic happens.


So.  If you stop by tomorrow night, I’ll be talking about what’s next and about why it’s so important to me.

And maybe we can make a little magic together…


See you then. ❤

What Happens Next

Breaking Silence

I’ve been quiet for more than a week here — maybe you noticed.

I needed that time to step away … to sink into silence.  Sometimes I need silence the way so many good green things need winter — maybe you know what I mean.

Not long ago, I mentioned that I’ve been mulling a new project for this space … one that requires more openness than I’ve had to muster before.  Vulnerability always comes at personal cost to someone, and you’re reading these words because I’ve decided I’m willing to pay it.

All that to say this:  on Friday, I’ll unveil something new here.  Some people will like it, some people will hate it, and some people just won’t get it.  I’m okay with that.  What I know for sure is, I’m after the beauty, always.

I hope to build something small and humble and beautiful here:  to break silence and turn winter to Spring.

I hope you’ll come along.


What Happens Next

February Love, A Few Warm Thoughts, & a Prediction or Two…

It’s been almost two weeks since I ended my last series, The Secret Messages Project, and if you’re a regular reader (I know that I do, in fact, have a small handful of those now), you might be wondering what happens next.

Me, too.

So I thought I’d take today to tell you a little bit about what’s going on with me and what I’m seeing on the road ahead (no prophecies or promises, but I can live with a few predictions).  I also thought I’d share a little of my everyday life with you, in case you ever wonder what that looks like.

(If you don’t, that’s okay, too — I promise I won’t do this often).

// On My End Table //


The Flame Throwers by Rachel Kushner.  I’ve been savoring this book for awhile, working my way through it slowly, and I have to say, Kushner is killing it.  Her novel has a keen eye for art and a keen ear for the people who like to stand around talking about it.  It’s the smartest piece of fiction I’ve read in awhile.

// Outside My Windows //


Snow, and lots of it, coming down hard as we speak.  I’m learning that I love the way snow changes the composition of everything I see:  it softens the angles of whatever’s below, sharpens the lines of whatever’s above, silvers the light, deepens the shadows, and also creates lots of blurry little flecks in my lens.  It’ll take awhile for me to become adept at shooting the white stuff, but I’m working on it.

// On Pandora //

The Spanish guitar station.  Can’t.  Get.  Enough.

// On My Wishlist //

I need a new Macbook (mine’s limping along, which is why you see so many blurry iPhone photos here instead of the images I *should* be uploading from the DSLR — if you have any recommendations in the Air vs. Pro debate, please share).  I’m also coveting these bangles (everything Bullfinch & Barbury makes is a dream!), this handbag (it’s monogrammed!), and a fancy macro lens (that last one is going to take awhile, but I’m saving).

// Making Me Smile … //

A certain pretty bromeliad, rehomed from the office and looking lush and green behind my favorite writing chair:


// Happening Next… //

 On Friday, I’ll be posting with 1000 Voices for Compassion (you can click the button above to find out more).  I’m not usually into this kind of thing, but I like the idea of being part of large group of people who are each interpreting compassion in their own way.  Some bloggers are writing from an anti-terrorism perspective, in support of cultural tolerance, to raise awareness of the challenges of being a caregiver, or to encourage everyday ways to help those in need.  I’ll be putting my own unique spin on things, of course, so stick around.

I’m also getting ready to start a beginner’s graphic design course, and I hope to share some of what I learn right here on this page.  No grandiose plans — just hoping for another creative outlet.

And last but not least?  I’ve got an important project up my sleeve and I’m mulling over when to share it with you.  It’s personal, vulnerable, and frankly a little frightening, and that’s okay — I just need to prepare my heart to pull the trigger on it.  You’ll be hearing a little more about that in the days ahead, but for now:  please go out, make a snow angel or two, stare at the sky, brew a cup of tea or hot cocoa, hug somebody special, or make something beautiful.


I’d love to hear a little bit about what you’re into, too. ❤

What Happens Next

A Brief Hiatus in a Warmer Place

This morning I woke up to green air, green light, summer sounds. I’ll be wearing sandals for the next week, leaving glistening footprints all over Key West, a place my soul’s been needing lately. I promise to come back soon with fresh photos and words. In the meantime, I hope you go outside, look and listen for a little magic, and make some if you can’t find it. I’ll be doing the same. ❤


What Happens Next

One Last Look Back… & Then Forward

I’ve let this place lie fallow for a week now.

I’ve been resting.  Contemplating what’s come, and what comes next.

Almost two months ago, I built this blog out of sheer desperation.  Because at that time, wherever I looked I saw a lot of loneliness.  I felt marooned in a city where I didn’t belong.

And somehow, by expressing that to you, and by intentionally trying to see the beauty, over and over, day after day — somehow my heart opened to this place.

I saw this:


And this:


And this, and this, and this…



And I suppose these look like small things, but they opened my heart — they really did — and now I find myself wanting to put down roots here, at least for a time.

I don’t mean just in my city.

I also mean here — right here, on this page, with you.

Because here’s what I’m learning:

Roots need soil.  And maybe, when I began, the ground was dry and full of stones, but I chose, in the face of that dryness, to fertilize and water.  To pull loose the boulders and wrench out the broken glass.

Now?  I have a field fresh-tilled, full of good loam.

And all 40 of those days, I kept thinking that the goal was to till the field.  But suddenly I see that what I really needed was to get myself to a place where I could grow something in it.

Which is what I intend to do.

So let’s set aside all the symbols and the metaphors for a moment and just say it like this:

I’m not finished yet.  I’m leaving this blog open, and I hope to do some good and even beautiful things with it …

I can’t wait to tell you more.