The Journey

“One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began …
                                        ~~ Mary Oliver

I love the beauty of bearing witness to joy and sorrow, of finding myself in the place where they overlap, and always seeking to be at the cusp of healing and celebrating the humanness in one another. The world we live in is always transient, a brief journey perhaps, but I believe words and images and stories capture a moment of light that stays with us long after this brief journey is over.

I love language and photography and creative arts for their ability to show beauty where beauty was neglected, to inspire where hope was lost, and to show humanness in situations where people have been forgotten, misunderstood, marginalized, disregarded, dehumanized, and made invisible. I am care very much about mental health, self-care, trauma-healing, and living in the present moment (mindfulness).

Photography and creative image gives voice to the voiceless. Words and images help us be present, pay attention, live in the moment, and really see what the mind’s eye often misses. I also believe that all of this allows us to find our small yet significant place in the larger story of community and humanity. I also embrace stories of singlehood + motherhood. (How do these fit together?)

Please send me a Facebook message or email or use my contact page if you would like to know more about my writing or writing process, would like me to photograph you or your family or event, want to be a guest blogger, or want to partner in a new journey you are venturing on, join your retreat, lead classes or sessions, talk all things creative, or just plain talk blogging and life. I’d be so very happy to chat with you.

The Journey (by Mary Oliver)

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night, and
the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voice behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do,
determined to save
the only life that you could save.

Mary Oliver, American poet, 1935-2019