Posts Tagged ‘aprillove2016’

Love letter: Rest

I really enjoyed the April Love 2016 prompts.  Doing this reminded me that sometimes the key to creativity is starting with a simple concept. This is the first one I did.  


Rest. Created on April 7, 2016, Watercolor. 


Dear Rest:

I am grateful for the breaks you give me, the deep breaths, the permission to close my eyes. Thank you for giving me space to nourish myself and restore my energy.


Love Letter: Sanctuary 

Dear Sanctuary, 

I remember: when I was younger, I imagined cutting a hole in the air and escaping to a place that was simply mine, like a tree house I could go to whenever things felt like too much. Throughout the years, I’ve found you in other places, too – in nature, in the arms of someone I love and trust, in creating a cozy dark place when I need a sensory break. I’ve found you in the walls of places that I’ve called home. I’ve also found you within myself: in the reassurance of a breath, a taking a moment to step away, in my own company. I find you as I move my feet across the dance floor, as I do my mindfulness practice, when I take a moment to sit by my altar and light a candle.  

Sanctuary, sometimes I lose sight of you and feel like my defenses break down, when I forget that I can give myself permission to seek you out. There have been times when I’ve lost sight of hope and also lost sight of you, where no place or situation felt safe. I realize that when I lose sight of you, I often lose sight of myself.  

Sanctuary: May I remember to access you when I most need you, to treasure your restorative powers, your sense of safety. May I continue to find you in places both inside and outside of myself.  

Love letter: Change

Dear Change,


Changing, shifting.  Watercolor on paper, April 2016.

You are a great raveler and unraveler, creator and destroyer.  You don’t often let me get too comfortable.  You are consistent and constant.  You are sometimes harmonic, sometimes dissonant; sometimes quiet, sometimes loud.

In the past, I have intentionally invited you along to all my efforts to improve myself and my life, to become the person I thought I wanted to be.  Sometimes you walked beside me, and then sometimes you had other ideas for how things would unfold.  I realize now that you, change, are not something I need to enforce or force.  I can still have hopes and goals for myself without hurdling myself into potential obstacles at full speed for the sake of transformation.  Change, you are still there, whether I create an intention or not.

Change, I know you will be beside me as I make new choices.  You will be there as I move into a new place with my love.  You have been with us as we’ve evolved over the past 8+ years, throughout joy and heartache.  You haven’t always seemed like an ally, but you’ve taught us a lot.  You’ve challenged us to continue to communicate and work together more effectively as individuals and as a couple.

Change, I have to admit that I sometimes resent you.  I fall into secure patterns and then you shake things up and shift my reality.  It takes me time to adjust.  Sometimes I think you are sneaky – but then maybe you are just being yourself.  When I have perspective, I see you both give and take away.  You definitely keep life interesting.

Change, I see you everywhere.  I may not always feel at peace with your influence, but I can accept that you will be there through ups and downs; through phases and choices; through seasons and years.


Love letter: Magic


Sense of magic necklace from my word pendant series.

Dear magic,

When I was a child, so much seemed magical.  I thought half-constructed houses were in danger of being destroyed by the big bad wolf.  I believed in Santa Claus.  I found magic in nature as the wind blew through my hair, whispering to me.  My dreams were magical creations, wild and unpredictable.

I kept you in mind throughout the years, even if I became more skeptical, reluctant to believe as strongly.  Yet I kept reading about you in fantasy novels.  Magic, you are in the pages of books with wizards and wands, other lands, powerful beings.  In those books, you are often external, explicit, sometimes even tangible.  In the world I inhabit, you are often more internal and implicit.  My inner world has remained magical in many ways throughout the years, but I longed for you in a way I could touch and feel.

Then I found a community of women who called themselves priestesses; who taught classes about life and healing; performed rituals; taught me about my gifts with energy and empathy.  Now that I have left that community, I miss feeling like I could journey into other dimensions, be a powerful empath, energy mover, community leader.  I miss the feeling part of a movement, that I was magical and nearly unstoppable.  I recognize that I am still some of those things, but my perspective is much different now.  In retrospect, I did find a lot of my own magic there and then, but it was mainly through others’ eyes and with others’ purposeful guidance.  Now, I want to continue to seek and source you in my own way, through my own choices and means.

Magic, I am skeptical when I hear words and phrases like “manifestation,” and “magical [or positive] thinking,” or using you to turn thought into reality by the power of desire alone.  I think you are more than a simple belief or the power of calling in a desire of a dream.  To me, you are the fire in passion, in the playful and curious spirit of a child, in the deciding to get up after falling down. To me, you are energy, you are spirit, you are intuition, you are imagination.

When I am dancing, I sometimes feel you in the space between my hands, vibrating with warmth, and sometimes in the room when the class resonates deeply with the music and the movement. During my Nia White Belt, someone who spoke skeptically of energy and related things sensed me as I moved around her, and she’d never knowingly felt that before. The times I’ve taught, as I took my place at the front of the room, it was like being the wielder of movement magic.

Magic, you require faith and attention to details.  You play a vivid role in my creative life as I draw, paint, and make jewelry.  You are in my love’s smile, in the warmth between us, in the electric sensations that remind me I have a body and am also so much more.

I sense you as I touch trees, the rooted depth of age and wisdom; when I look up at the night sky and see the twinkling stars and the shadows behind a full moon; when I see the refracting light in a crystal.

I think you play a role in helping me keep hope, in finding joy and laughter in small moments.  Sometimes it’s just the edge of light on the horizon that reminds me of you, or something that seems eerily coincidental, and it’s like you’re whispering to me, “I’m still here.”  Magic, I haven’t forgotten you.  I am learning to find you in new ways, and on my own terms.

Love letter: Kindness 

Dear Kindness,

Thank you for reminding me to be kind to myself.

Love letter: Courage.

Lion - watermarked

Lion – courage – card from my personal oracle card deck

Dear Courage,

I remember holding my new stuffed animal, a lion, tightly to my chest. My mom had given it to me because I had just flown alone for the first time – to move to Oregon to live with her. I was eight years old. “You are so brave,” she said.

I took courage from the spirit of the lion, whispering to myself that I was brave, courageous. Courage, I needed you so many times throughout the years, through moving states and schools, through my awkward adolescent years, as I grew up and tried to find my way in the world. And often, you whispered back, you will get through this. Just hold on.

Courage, you aren’t always this bold and bright spirit, brought out for situations like public speaking (although certainly you are a wonderful ally in those situations). Sometimes I feel you like soft arms holding me. I remember reading this quote, framed on the bathroom wall: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” – Mary Anne Radmacher. I took heart in that message as I went through a holistic healing program, as I lived in community and approached process after process. I found I needed you most when I went into crisis, where others told me that courage was choosing to leap and face the flames. You came and stood beside me as I crumbled, as I started to realize that getting help, and then leaving, was the best option for me. You reminded me that I define what courage is for me.

You have been with me through depression, through tears, through laughter, through choosing love. You don’t push me to overcome anxiety and fear, but to acknowledge them, make informed decisions, and keep going. Thank you for your fierceness, for your softness, for being such a powerful ally.

Love letter: Senses 

sensesImage of Senses:  from bottom center clockwise:  proprioception (sense of self in space), taste, vestibular system (sense of balance), auditory/hearing, tactile/touch, smell, interoception (sensing internal responses such as hunger, etc), and vision/sight.

Dear Senses,

I’ve known you were heightened, that your volume was turned up in many ways, for quite awhile.  I didn’t know exactly how much effort and energy it was taking you, taking us, just to feel and be aware.  I’m glad I know you better, that I’m no longer trying to override you or shut you out.  I’m glad you’re slowly adjusting with me as we go through occupational and vision therapy.  I know it’s exhausting, and I know sometimes you want to – and do – shut down.  Thanks for sticking with me through all these changes.

I’m so glad we have tools now to help us, including the weighted blanked and the Wilbarger brush. I once thought that doing sensory integration work would dull and numb my senses, but I think you are getting clearer and brighter.  I’m more clear about the messages you give me, I’m more aware when we’re getting flooded, and I know what can best soothe us.

Thank you, senses, for being so strong that I can sense energy around me; take in vivid colors with my eyes; taste something delicious and have a near-erotic experience;  hear the intricate layers of music; when my love touches me it’s like every fiber of my being is singing yes with pleasure.

Thank you for taking care of me, for alerting me to possible dangers.

I am so grateful for you.