Monthly Archives: February 2009

The bell tolls

From sometime last week: It’s been a long week.  Today was not going against that idea either.  My lunch wrestled in my stomach and neither was conceding which made for a lovely afternoon.  I stayed at work late to go get a haircut down the street from my new favorite stylist.  It was that time again; time to reinvent myself by chopping off half of my hair.  After I left

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would love your help

I am compiling people’s comments for my next talk and I feel your input will be great. My question is this – if you are older than a college graduate, knowing what you know now, what do you wish someone would’ve told you before you graduated or when you were 21?  What were your expectations and how were they met or not met?  Please hit comment and let me know

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what happened to the pictures?

well my friends, my camera that my husband and I bought ourselves for Christmas was stolen off our porch, but a new one is on the way!!  —–> stay tuned for more pictures of art journaling and the upcoming workshops.  If you want to come to the workshop and you’re in Southern California, click here for more details.  

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I come from a deep heritage.  This heritage includes wounds, abuse, achievement, disappointment, heartache, wonder, mystery, enthusiasm, and laughter.  What also has been passed to me is a long legacy of listening to God and helping others.  “To whom much is given, much is required,” so says a great verse in a Holy Book.  Much has been given and I have lived a privileged life of a roof over my head, food on the table, and an

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Sometimes I wish I could tune out what is around me.  Today as I sat in a wealthy neighborhood coffee shop, I really wished I could.  Women with huge diamond rings, Birken bags (some even matching), Cartier watches, and highlighted hair discussed their children’s reading ability and how “in this economy” they hope they are not called upon to bring extra school supplies to their kids’ classrooms.  As I listened

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My Psalm

I recently learned a new spiritual practice of writing your own Psalm.  I do not kid myself that I am a poet, but it was fun trying. One of the professors in my program didn’t let us think really hard about it and just said, “I’m giving you 3 minutes.  Write a psalm.”  So we did.  We didn’t have time to process or self-edit, which made it more authentic and

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