Kindness is what I am called to create. To counter the conscious cruelty our government delights in, but also because kindness is what cracks me open. Always. I know when I am kind (rescuing yet another beetle from the swimming.pool, pulling a busy mother's beach chair away from the incoming tide as I walk by and her hollered "thank you", telling the little one petting my dog that I love their sparkly nail polish, a passing stranger saying "you have great hair") the world is a bigger and better place. I fill my day with these, creating as much kindness as I can and appreciating it when I see it in others.
This world needs more people like you! From your comment, I am inspired. Yes, may I walk through life this day with kindness and gratitude in my heart. Creating kindness is a whole other level of artistic expression. Thank you, Dianne. Big hugs.
So glad you took the little risk, because what you said was perfect -- always a blessing to have the light of another candle in the dark. Thanks, Dianne
Your ability and sheer determination to "mine the meaning" out of this decision is in itself a gift to us who read your posts...thank you. Trust the ripples that vibrate outward from the plop of this stone in your own pond. I do believe that those of us who work to communicate/community are being strategically "placed" to hold space for kindness and civility in these times. Whatever that larger strategy is...you/Austin/the beauty of that hill country/nature, and the interactions when you enter the social field are living within it. Thank you. Sure hope I get to meet you someday.
"Trust the ripples that vibrate outward from the plop of this stone in your own pond." I will hang onto that, Christina; will carry it in my pocket, a talisman of these times. Thank you. Sending you big hugs and so much appreciation and goodwill.
This is a stunning piece—rooted, sacred, and full of that trembling ache between the ancient and the everyday. (As always)
Your words move through me like the memory of a drumbeat I didn’t know I’d forgotten. Something in me exhales reading this. The ocean floor, the bone caves, the bleached skulls—I feel the vastness of your devotion to place, to presence, to what refuses to be erased.
Thank you for calling me to this temple with brilliant creators. I feel called—again—to let nothing be left out. To tell the truth without trimming it. To see Luna, steady and whole, even when I feel split by the demands of the day.
In this season? I feel most called to transmute the 'impossible' to create space—for beauty and brutality to harmonize. To write from my soft animal body. To stroll the backroads of memory, and let the wind scatter what I can no longer carry.
Thank you for the invitation. Sister, we walk together.
I am so very grateful to walk with you Prajna. To not leave out a single thing. To call in the moon and dance in the ways of something ancient and rooted. Thank you for being a part of my life. Biggest of hugs to you and those sweet girls. I keep all of you in my heart -- and am the better for it!
This piece touched me deeply. Being down the road from you in Cibolo, I relate to your views of Texas. Beyond that, I’m expanding my sound and vocal healing practice, creating new connections and choosing gratitude & love every day.
Thank you, dear fellow Texan. Engaging in the life in front of us and choosing gratitude and love with which to walk our path is the calm I seek too. Biggest of hugs.
When we moved out to the Hill Country (about 50 mi NW of Austin), my get-in-the-car-and-go habit had to change. It took a while to get used to once-a-week trips to Austin. And then, as the traffic there got worse, to a shopping center in closer Cedar Park every 10 days or so. It turns out that we don't "need" stuff more often than that. I don't think I could have changed that habit if we'd stayed in town, where there are so many temptations.
You make a good point -- how much stuff do we actually need and how often? So much of what I crave is right in my own back yard -- a metaphor that deserves my unpacking. Thank you for your thoughtful comment and big hugs.
Stephanie - This is beautiful, wise! and I read it slowly, twice. Your writing holds the ache of place and the grace of presence in equal measure. That split-screen life of longing and obligation, of sacred forest and strip mall memory is so resonant. I’m honored to be included in this circle of fellow travelers, dreamers and word-crafters. May we all keep creating from the places that call us to stay something sacred within all of us.
Yes, may we keep creating from the places that call us, both outwardly and inwardly. Thank you for your thoughtful comment, my kindred spirit of a friend and fellow traveler. Big hugs.
Thank you Stephanie! I’ll take those hugs as I travel out into the world trying to move with enjoyment beyond all the worries. It helps with remembering what is all this movement back and forth for in this kind of living.
Dear Stephanie-- The picture of you and Jeanne says it all - deep friendships and showing up for all of what life is offering. Your body is the living temple, called by something greater. I am so grateful to be in your orbit, communing with the wise women who are gathered here. In this split-screen life, I'm finding hope by connecting with other humans around creativity, deathcare, singing, dancing & sharing food...in living color:) Sending you a big hug. Your stunning poem reminded me of Holly Near's song "One Thousand Grandmothers". If you think these women are too soft
Yes, Holly Near, One Thousand Grandmothers. We are those grand old women now, dancing without fear, in the power of love. Thank you for your kind words. Big hugs.
What a beautiful, powerful piece using powerful images like the sea floor and the bleached bones to convey your, unsettled perhaps, peace with remaining in Texas. I've been to Houston many years ago on business, but that doesn't really count in terms of seeing the beautiful scenes that you describe.
And your essay is a reminder that the big malls and shopping centers are not the essence of living, although so many people get lost in buying items, maybe as a comfort mechanism for all the horrible things afflicting our country.
I find comfort in the beauty of nature. But, as you know, painting is my salvation. My biggest goal, though, is to be kind and show love to others, to live a life and leave a legacy that I'm proud of.
As always, Beth, you make yourself known in kind, comforting words and images. Kindness is our power, love is our strength. May we always walk this path. I'm so grateful that you are here and part of my world. Sending you love and goodwill my artist friend. Hugs and deep thanks.
This is an incredible, poetic post, Stephanie. (I’m going to restack something from it that really is striking!). I’ve visited Austin only once, a couple years ago. Loved the vibe—(went with my wife on a business trip of hers; stayed in The Domain district). But to get out of the city limits to experience more the vastness of the place is awe-inducing. We drove out to Lake Travis and ate at The Oasis—a fun place that really was an oasis. I only mention my experience not to take away from the beauty of your words, but to express how much it resonates to also having known the place being written about. I have a lot of pre-conceived notions about Texas, and Texans. Still. But no one can deny it’s a place like no other. (And thank you for the shout-out, my friend—a pleasant surprise that brings joy).
Once, I had similar experience of reading a book about the history of Hawaii. I had been to some of the places the author wrote about and it drew me in closer to the stories he was telling. And, for what it's worth, I still have a lot of pre-conceived notions about Texas and Texans, as well. Livin' the life that's in front of me, grateful for my creative friends. Thanks, Kert and big hugs.
There are so many great lines in this post. One is "We all live this duality, I tell myself – the longing of the soul and the obligations of the day." I know that experience well.
So often when I grapple with something like the idea of split screen, I convince myself that others have it figured out and I've come late to the party -- but as story goes, it's never just your story or mine, it's THE story, and in this way THE story connects us all. Big hugs.
Another stunning piece of writing. I appreciate how you are choosing to process and come to terms with your revised plan to stay in Texas. I am keeping this in mind as my moving plans remain in limbo for now.
No matter where one lives, there is the split-screen life. I love how your piece points this out with such clarity. I live in a relatively small, rural area of WI. I feel fortunate to have towering white pines in my backyard, and I often think about the things and people they have "seen". They make me feel so small, literally and figuratively. They ground me, as nature tends to do.
It's also true that no matter where we live, there is that juxtiposition of modern-day life with the history of the land, as well as the gifts Mother Nature has bestowed that are right there in front of us, if only we take notice of them. So often, we get completely caught up in the hurried, commerce-oriented aspect of our lives. Thank you for this reminder to slow down, breathe in that history, connect with the bones of those who've walked the land previously.
I look forward to your writings every week. They never disappoint, and this one certainly doesn't. For this, I thank you, my friend. xx
Hi Nancy. Interesting how moving puts us in a state of liminality to varying degrees. Even though I'm disappointed not to be moving, I also feel a sense of relief. For the past few days, I've been cleaning out my pantry, shelves in my laundry room, drawers in the bathroom -- a satisfying ritual of reclamation and grounding. The weather here is very hot (summer is officially upon us) so I walk in the mornings with the dog and swim -- then there's time to do this organizational dance inside, in the heat of the day. I think that for the year and a half that I was trying to sell my house, without any control over any of it -- I finally feel victorious in taming my out-of-control pantry to my liking. Nothing like being a Type A personality!
What you say about getting caught up in the commerce-oriented part of life rings true, it's so easy to forget that we are of nature, of ancestry and stars. Hope you're having a good summer my friend and that you're writing. I appreciate that you read my pieces and that you encourage the scribe in me. Heartfelt thanks and all goodwill. Hugs and To be continued . . .
And what a beautiful old friend she is. Thank you for that sweet memory and all that it stirs. Sending you love, hugs and goodwill. You are in my heart, sweet Deborah.
Beautiful words, in a beautiful piece, Stephanie. I feel called to create in a way that reveals my true self, because I hope other people can see themselves in my work and know that they have a safe place to be who they truly are. I think in time you will know why events happened the way they did to keep you in that spot. I hope it will be a wonderful, serendipitous discovery.
"I feel called to create in a way that reveals my true self, because I hope other people can see themselves in my work and know that they have a safe place to be who they truly are." I think this is the gift we can give to each other in these times. Biggest of hugs.
Thanks, Eric. Community is both a challenge and a grace, and in my case, remains somewhat elusive, though I may be getting better at finding or even creating it. Sending you big hugs.
I love that you're going to create an online gallery! You have wonderful work that will speak to so many of us. Art makes us feel; makes us get lost; opens doors and portals . . . whether it's writing, or photography, or paints or dance, it doesn't matter. The feeling tone is what counts. You are in my heart. So excited for this next step of yours.
Kindness is what I am called to create. To counter the conscious cruelty our government delights in, but also because kindness is what cracks me open. Always. I know when I am kind (rescuing yet another beetle from the swimming.pool, pulling a busy mother's beach chair away from the incoming tide as I walk by and her hollered "thank you", telling the little one petting my dog that I love their sparkly nail polish, a passing stranger saying "you have great hair") the world is a bigger and better place. I fill my day with these, creating as much kindness as I can and appreciating it when I see it in others.
This world needs more people like you! From your comment, I am inspired. Yes, may I walk through life this day with kindness and gratitude in my heart. Creating kindness is a whole other level of artistic expression. Thank you, Dianne. Big hugs.
Thank you. I hesitated to post it but more and more it seems important. Im glad it.spoke to you...my little candle in the dark :)
So glad you took the little risk, because what you said was perfect -- always a blessing to have the light of another candle in the dark. Thanks, Dianne
Bless you, Dianne and thank you for your kind words.
Your ability and sheer determination to "mine the meaning" out of this decision is in itself a gift to us who read your posts...thank you. Trust the ripples that vibrate outward from the plop of this stone in your own pond. I do believe that those of us who work to communicate/community are being strategically "placed" to hold space for kindness and civility in these times. Whatever that larger strategy is...you/Austin/the beauty of that hill country/nature, and the interactions when you enter the social field are living within it. Thank you. Sure hope I get to meet you someday.
"Trust the ripples that vibrate outward from the plop of this stone in your own pond." I will hang onto that, Christina; will carry it in my pocket, a talisman of these times. Thank you. Sending you big hugs and so much appreciation and goodwill.
Dear Stephanie,
This is a stunning piece—rooted, sacred, and full of that trembling ache between the ancient and the everyday. (As always)
Your words move through me like the memory of a drumbeat I didn’t know I’d forgotten. Something in me exhales reading this. The ocean floor, the bone caves, the bleached skulls—I feel the vastness of your devotion to place, to presence, to what refuses to be erased.
Thank you for calling me to this temple with brilliant creators. I feel called—again—to let nothing be left out. To tell the truth without trimming it. To see Luna, steady and whole, even when I feel split by the demands of the day.
In this season? I feel most called to transmute the 'impossible' to create space—for beauty and brutality to harmonize. To write from my soft animal body. To stroll the backroads of memory, and let the wind scatter what I can no longer carry.
Thank you for the invitation. Sister, we walk together.
I am so very grateful to walk with you Prajna. To not leave out a single thing. To call in the moon and dance in the ways of something ancient and rooted. Thank you for being a part of my life. Biggest of hugs to you and those sweet girls. I keep all of you in my heart -- and am the better for it!
This piece touched me deeply. Being down the road from you in Cibolo, I relate to your views of Texas. Beyond that, I’m expanding my sound and vocal healing practice, creating new connections and choosing gratitude & love every day.
Thank you, dear fellow Texan. Engaging in the life in front of us and choosing gratitude and love with which to walk our path is the calm I seek too. Biggest of hugs.
When we moved out to the Hill Country (about 50 mi NW of Austin), my get-in-the-car-and-go habit had to change. It took a while to get used to once-a-week trips to Austin. And then, as the traffic there got worse, to a shopping center in closer Cedar Park every 10 days or so. It turns out that we don't "need" stuff more often than that. I don't think I could have changed that habit if we'd stayed in town, where there are so many temptations.
You make a good point -- how much stuff do we actually need and how often? So much of what I crave is right in my own back yard -- a metaphor that deserves my unpacking. Thank you for your thoughtful comment and big hugs.
Stephanie - This is beautiful, wise! and I read it slowly, twice. Your writing holds the ache of place and the grace of presence in equal measure. That split-screen life of longing and obligation, of sacred forest and strip mall memory is so resonant. I’m honored to be included in this circle of fellow travelers, dreamers and word-crafters. May we all keep creating from the places that call us to stay something sacred within all of us.
Yes, may we keep creating from the places that call us, both outwardly and inwardly. Thank you for your thoughtful comment, my kindred spirit of a friend and fellow traveler. Big hugs.
Thank you Stephanie! I’ll take those hugs as I travel out into the world trying to move with enjoyment beyond all the worries. It helps with remembering what is all this movement back and forth for in this kind of living.
Dear Stephanie-- The picture of you and Jeanne says it all - deep friendships and showing up for all of what life is offering. Your body is the living temple, called by something greater. I am so grateful to be in your orbit, communing with the wise women who are gathered here. In this split-screen life, I'm finding hope by connecting with other humans around creativity, deathcare, singing, dancing & sharing food...in living color:) Sending you a big hug. Your stunning poem reminded me of Holly Near's song "One Thousand Grandmothers". If you think these women are too soft
To face the world at hand
Then you've never known the power of love
And you fail to understand.
Yes, Holly Near, One Thousand Grandmothers. We are those grand old women now, dancing without fear, in the power of love. Thank you for your kind words. Big hugs.
Hi Stephanie,
What a beautiful, powerful piece using powerful images like the sea floor and the bleached bones to convey your, unsettled perhaps, peace with remaining in Texas. I've been to Houston many years ago on business, but that doesn't really count in terms of seeing the beautiful scenes that you describe.
And your essay is a reminder that the big malls and shopping centers are not the essence of living, although so many people get lost in buying items, maybe as a comfort mechanism for all the horrible things afflicting our country.
I find comfort in the beauty of nature. But, as you know, painting is my salvation. My biggest goal, though, is to be kind and show love to others, to live a life and leave a legacy that I'm proud of.
As always, Beth, you make yourself known in kind, comforting words and images. Kindness is our power, love is our strength. May we always walk this path. I'm so grateful that you are here and part of my world. Sending you love and goodwill my artist friend. Hugs and deep thanks.
This is an incredible, poetic post, Stephanie. (I’m going to restack something from it that really is striking!). I’ve visited Austin only once, a couple years ago. Loved the vibe—(went with my wife on a business trip of hers; stayed in The Domain district). But to get out of the city limits to experience more the vastness of the place is awe-inducing. We drove out to Lake Travis and ate at The Oasis—a fun place that really was an oasis. I only mention my experience not to take away from the beauty of your words, but to express how much it resonates to also having known the place being written about. I have a lot of pre-conceived notions about Texas, and Texans. Still. But no one can deny it’s a place like no other. (And thank you for the shout-out, my friend—a pleasant surprise that brings joy).
Once, I had similar experience of reading a book about the history of Hawaii. I had been to some of the places the author wrote about and it drew me in closer to the stories he was telling. And, for what it's worth, I still have a lot of pre-conceived notions about Texas and Texans, as well. Livin' the life that's in front of me, grateful for my creative friends. Thanks, Kert and big hugs.
There are so many great lines in this post. One is "We all live this duality, I tell myself – the longing of the soul and the obligations of the day." I know that experience well.
So often when I grapple with something like the idea of split screen, I convince myself that others have it figured out and I've come late to the party -- but as story goes, it's never just your story or mine, it's THE story, and in this way THE story connects us all. Big hugs.
"Live without leaving anything out" - I need a coffee cup with that excellent motto styled upon it! Thank you!
It would make a good coffee cup, wouldn’t it? Thanks for that.
Hi Stephanie,
Another stunning piece of writing. I appreciate how you are choosing to process and come to terms with your revised plan to stay in Texas. I am keeping this in mind as my moving plans remain in limbo for now.
No matter where one lives, there is the split-screen life. I love how your piece points this out with such clarity. I live in a relatively small, rural area of WI. I feel fortunate to have towering white pines in my backyard, and I often think about the things and people they have "seen". They make me feel so small, literally and figuratively. They ground me, as nature tends to do.
It's also true that no matter where we live, there is that juxtiposition of modern-day life with the history of the land, as well as the gifts Mother Nature has bestowed that are right there in front of us, if only we take notice of them. So often, we get completely caught up in the hurried, commerce-oriented aspect of our lives. Thank you for this reminder to slow down, breathe in that history, connect with the bones of those who've walked the land previously.
I look forward to your writings every week. They never disappoint, and this one certainly doesn't. For this, I thank you, my friend. xx
Hi Nancy. Interesting how moving puts us in a state of liminality to varying degrees. Even though I'm disappointed not to be moving, I also feel a sense of relief. For the past few days, I've been cleaning out my pantry, shelves in my laundry room, drawers in the bathroom -- a satisfying ritual of reclamation and grounding. The weather here is very hot (summer is officially upon us) so I walk in the mornings with the dog and swim -- then there's time to do this organizational dance inside, in the heat of the day. I think that for the year and a half that I was trying to sell my house, without any control over any of it -- I finally feel victorious in taming my out-of-control pantry to my liking. Nothing like being a Type A personality!
What you say about getting caught up in the commerce-oriented part of life rings true, it's so easy to forget that we are of nature, of ancestry and stars. Hope you're having a good summer my friend and that you're writing. I appreciate that you read my pieces and that you encourage the scribe in me. Heartfelt thanks and all goodwill. Hugs and To be continued . . .
This is beautiful, dear Steffers. Sending you the peace, power and beauty of Sopris- one of your old friends. 🩵
And what a beautiful old friend she is. Thank you for that sweet memory and all that it stirs. Sending you love, hugs and goodwill. You are in my heart, sweet Deborah.
Beautiful words, in a beautiful piece, Stephanie. I feel called to create in a way that reveals my true self, because I hope other people can see themselves in my work and know that they have a safe place to be who they truly are. I think in time you will know why events happened the way they did to keep you in that spot. I hope it will be a wonderful, serendipitous discovery.
"I feel called to create in a way that reveals my true self, because I hope other people can see themselves in my work and know that they have a safe place to be who they truly are." I think this is the gift we can give to each other in these times. Biggest of hugs.
It has been too long since I attended a drum circle under the stars, let alone one that called them.
I no longer have those sorts of friends at hand.
Community alone is a familiar challenge, but rising… like crazy.
Thank you for putting this to words.
It’s helpful and inspiring to me.
Thanks, Eric. Community is both a challenge and a grace, and in my case, remains somewhat elusive, though I may be getting better at finding or even creating it. Sending you big hugs.
Woman. You have a way with words. I got wonderfully lost in this.
I’m feeling an invitation to create an online gallery to house some of my art. It’s been a long time coming, but I feel ready.
Thank you for the mention. I feel honored. 💗
I love that you're going to create an online gallery! You have wonderful work that will speak to so many of us. Art makes us feel; makes us get lost; opens doors and portals . . . whether it's writing, or photography, or paints or dance, it doesn't matter. The feeling tone is what counts. You are in my heart. So excited for this next step of yours.
Awwww! Thank you so so much for your encouragement. It’s wind beneath my wings. 🤍🤍