drifting into focus

What a wierd and wonderful morning!

I'll begin with wonderful --  "All I See is Red" was accepted into the Mosaic Arts International 2010 exhibition at the Smith Museum of Stained Glass at the Navy Pier, in Chicago, Illinois.   Submitting art for exhibitions is incredibly difficult... For me, it's like ripping apart my chest and laying it all out there for someone to consider.   Rejection, which we all suffer at some point, completely sucks.  But, occasionally, a juror will "get it", he/she will understand that you have something to say, and the euphoria I feel right now is incredibly high.  The notice read...

We are very pleased to inform you that your work, All I See is Red, has been selected to be included in the Mosaic Arts International 2010 exhibition at The Smith Museum of Stained Glass at Navy Pier, in Chicago, Illinois.  We received entries from over 250 artists in 8 countries which the jurors carefully deliberated over for several days. The jury selected 48 pieces for inclusion in the MAI exhibition to be held from March 1 – April 30, 2010.

The Smith Museum of Stained Glass and the Navy Pier management anticipate over 80,000 visitors during the two months that Mosaic Arts International 2010 will be on display.  The opportunity to present the work of our member artists to an audience of this scope has been an incredible achievement.  Your work will be part of an important milestone in SAMA’s (Society of American Mosaic Artists) history that will underscore SAMA’s 10 year legacy of dedication to educating, inspiring, and promoting excellence in fine mosaic art.

I have to say, having a piece included in the 2009 MIA show in San Diego, at the Museum of Man, was an incredible honor.  I was unable to attend the show, but I have heard from artists that it was an impressive exhibition.  Still, there's something very special for me about being included in this show in Chicago. 

Chicago is such a remarkable "art town", it's always been one of my favorite places to go and see what "new" is happening.  It's quite different from New York "new", in my opinion; there's something a little tilted about Chicago art, and I am thrilled to be able to say I will have work exhibited in a significant show in Chicago.

This particular piece, "All I See is Red", is also an important piece of mine.  It's the first of my pieces about war; I wrote about this and another war piece, "Shock & Appall", recently, here.  For some reason, it's important to me that this piece, in particular, be shown in the Chicago show.  It probably has something to do with the fact that our President is from Chicago and we are at war.

OH, the WEIRD......  I had an email from a woman yesterday who said she worked at a local retail store, and she had a bunch of broken china and glass and would I like to have it?  Well, yeeeaahhh...  (She asked me not to tell anyone where I got it, so I will keep it a secret, BUT, it's a very wonderful national store that carries apparel and totally cool things for the home.)  So, I showed up at their back door this morning.  Sigh, nothing there.  It was in the dumpster.  You know, I've heard about dumpster diving, but I really have never done it.  And I'll know better next time to bring a step stool and wear crappy clothes, and probably I'll bring someone with me!  But I just couldn't reach those last two heavy-as-hell boxes at the bottom of the dumpster, and those green plates were to-die-for.  I backed the Pilot up to the dumpster, and I climbed in.  I placed the remaining boxes on the closed half of the dumpster and then could not get out.  Seriously.  I'm 52 and out of shape, and I had no business climbing into a dumpster!  Well, needless to say, I did figure out how to get out by leveraging myself against the corner of the inside of the dumpster.  Thank GOD I had pulled the Pilot up to it, because I was able to climb out into the bumper.  It really was not a cool thing to be doing; I'm glad to have had the experience; it was worth the huge haul of great stuff (you wouldn't believe it); and, if there is a next time, I will be better prepared!

"Origin" was in the 2009 Mosaic Arts Internationalat the Museum of Man, San Diego, CA. 

Those Crazy Monkeys

Do you meditate?  Have you ever tried?  I don't, but I will eventually... my time is coming.  But I have tried.  I have had a heckuva time trying to stop the voices, to focus on nothing.  I was reading a book about meditation one day, and the author referenced Buddhists (Zen, I think) and that they call the voices "crazy monkeys".  That moment, reading that passage, was a big WOW for me... that's exactly what is happening in my head.  I need to practice.  I need to learn to calm the crazy monkeys in my head.

I knew I would illustrate the monkeys one day, and a juried show up in Philly that calls for narrative work provided me with the last push of incentive to go ahead and make my monkeys.  

The piece is titled "Crazy Monkeys" , is composed of mixed ceramic shards, and is 24" square.

I think it may be time to work on my angels.  

Shock & Appall

"All I See is Red" had been the only piece I have ever created that was the least bit political.  Lately, all of my work leans towards narrative, and the latest, "Shock & Appall" was another "had to be made" pieces. It wasn't an easy piece to build.

"All I See is Red" sort-of just happened.    I saw it (in my head), I found the materials, and it almost made itself.    It's the only piece to which I've added words.

All I see is red.
All I smell is  fear.
All I hear is pain.
All I see is red.

It's what I see when I hear the word, Iraq.

For a long time, there have been other words ringing in my ears, words that I remember hearing for the first time on that evening, in our kitchen, when we watched flashes of light bombarding a darkened city.  It was totally surreal, that evening.  I felt like I was being kicked in the stomach, I knew it was wrong, and all I could say aloud was, "we have no choice but to trust that he knows what he is doing."  I was referring to a man I did not trust, but as an American citizen, I knew I had no choice at that moment but to trust that George W. Bush and all of his men knew what they were doing and that what they were doing was somehow necessary to keep the peace.  How bizarre that sounds today.  How wrong.  How deadly.

The words which I remember hearing over and over for the next days were "shock and awe".  I believed that this was a military term for this new type of war, that the intention was to accomplish the military purpose and end the war more quickly by swooping in with such force that you wipe out your enemy's ability to fight back.  You end the war as quickly as you begin it.  On the eve of the 6th anniversary of the war in Iraq, I Googled the term "shock & awe".  From Wikipedia..

Shock and awe,technically known as rapid dominance, is a military doctrine based on the use ofoverwhelming power, dominant battlefield awareness, dominant maneuvers, and spectacular displays of force to paralyze an adversary's perception of the battlefield and destroy its will to fight. The doctrine was written by Harlan K. Ullmanand James P. Wadein 1996 and is a product of the National Defense Universityof the United States.
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Ullman and Wade identify four vital characteristics of rapid dominance: "near total or absolute knowledge and understanding of self, adversary, and environment; rapidity and timeliness in application; operational brilliance in execution; and (near) total control and signature management of the entire operational environment."(Harlan K. Ullman and James P. Wade,  Shock And Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance, XII (National Defense University, 1996)

Okay, so what’s wrong with this picture?  The American forces are still there.  Just last week, the headlines in the newspaper were that there was the bloodiest day in Iraq in 2 years.  As for “shock and awe”….

The principal author of Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance, Harlan Ullman, was one of the most vocal critics of the shock-and-awe campaign. Ullman stated, "The current campaign does not appear to correspond to what we envisioned." In addition, "the bombing that lit up the Baghdad night skies the next day, and in the following days, did not match the force, scope and scale of the broad-based shock-and-awe plan, Ullman and U.S. officials say." In a question directed to Ullman, asking if it is "too late for shock and awe now?" Ullman responded "We have not seen it; it is not coming."
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According to The Guardian correspondent Brian Whitakerin 2003, "To some in the Arab and Muslim countries, Shock and Awe is terrorism by another name; to others, a crime that compares unfavourably with September 11."  Anti-war protesters in 2003 also claimed that "the shock and awe pummeling of Baghdad [was] a kind of terrorism."  The radical cleric Moqtada al-Sadrhas also accused the United States of engaging in "terrorism" in Iraq.

And, so, on the eve of the 6^th anniversary of the assault on Iraq, “Shock & Appall” began forming.  It’s all metaphorical, of course.  The lightning bolt represents the U.S. forces.  The red pool is blood.  I must have ripped out that smalti a million times, trying to get it to say exactly what I wanted it to say.  I finally achieved that.  For me, the wound is aged blood, it’s deep and dark and throbbing.  But new blood continues to pool.  I needed a splash, but I wanted it to be a dull, throbbing wound, not a frantic, hard-hitting moment.  I want it to be painful, because it’s still, seven years later, so raw.  The background is cut from various black plates, all matt, but with varying degrees of matt finish.  There are three pseudo crosses built into the background, and the background tiles are placed vertically, like so many headstones.

 

 

The world around us

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul." (John Muir)

Artists working in mosaics are amazing "sharers"

Ever since I first became interested in mosaics, I have found a remarkable community of "giving" people.  In fact, I have often wondered if my work in mosaic would ever have happened if not for groups of artists from around the world that come together in various forums across the web.  Most of the artists I know have begun their journey through the maze of technical issues, materials sources, and overall design issues at one of two sites, both of which require membership (free)...  They are both on Yahoo, and the first group is Mosaic Artists Org, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mosaicartistsorg/.   The other group is Mosaic Addicts, which is hosted by mosaic artist/teacher, Sandy Robertson, from Australia.  The link for Sandy's site is http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mosaic_addicts/.  When I first began making mosaics, I became one of those addicts, and I spent hours each evening learning from these sites.  It was here that I learned about SAMA, the Society of American Mosaic Artists, and began attending the annual conferences as often as possible, meeting other artists, taking workshops, and viewing remarkable works of art.  Today, my daily activity in this vein is primarily limited to keeping up with artists and their activities through Facebook and Flickr.  I also enjoy periodic visits to  the forum Contemporary Mosaic Art, which includes work and information from countless artists and organizations.

What has always struck me as totally amazing is the camaraderie which is evident throughout these groups.  There is true love of the mosaic process, and the artists are incredibly giving of their time and technical information.  Friendships are one of the greatest benefits of all of these groups.  And the public at large benefits from FANTASTIC cooperative projects, many of which "just happen".  One such project is happening right this minute, coordinated by an extremely talented and energetic Lin Schorr.  Her huge undertaking is the coordination and production of four large murals which will be installed at Providence Park Hospital, Novi, Michigan.  And it all started with a simple "mosaic challenge" on Flickr (read about these wonderful group challenges HERE). 
The photo above is of "Tendrils", by Linda Hooper, and is one of the 56 swirls. 

"After some fast and furious brainstorming on the part of a few of the artists in the group, the little swirls had morphed themselves into a full blown mosaic quilt project!    Being the instigator of the swirls I jumped at the chance to be the one to put it all together.  Crazy maybe.  But I do looove a big project !" Lin Schorr

The original challenge, creating a 6" x 6" swirl in mosaic, suddenly became two large murals composed of fifty-six 6" x 6" swirls.  Also, she now has artists sending in mosaic jigsaw puzzle pieces for the third mural, and the latest to be announced, the fourth mural, will be comprised of mosaic hearts.  Lin's murals, composed of pieces given for the project by well over 50 artists, are all being contributed to the hospital.  It's fun, and everyone involved feels good about it.

The photo above is "Swirlendipity 1", in progress.
Once framed, the murals will be 4' x 6'!

I've have been afforded the pleasure of participating in the jigsaw puzzle mural, newly titled "Amuzapalooza", creating one of the fifty jigsaw puzzle pieces for this pattern.....

 

Lin shares each new puzzle piece as she receives them from the artists.  This is great fun and is creating some wonderful suspense!  I love each and every one of the pieces that I've seen, and I have a couple of favorites, like this one by Susan Walden. 

In my next post, I will talk about three other projects, all remarkable and all completely different in scope and effect...

- Since posting this message, Lin has started a blog about the project.  Read the full details at Lin Schorr - Mixed Media Mosaics.  She also has installed the first mural just this week, see finished mural below...

Sha Zaam!

Don't you love that word, "Sha Zaam"?!  Well, having it said about my work was one of the nicest surprises I've had in a while. 

I've just returned from a wonderful trip with my Dad, who is 84.  I had just installed a new computer for him on Father's Day (he's 3 hours away, so it's a matter of making plans to do things like this), when my sister Karen and brother James and I had lunch with him to celebrate "his" day.  I was unable to complete the job, so I tacked on a day to a planned trip with him to finish.  So, Monday I drove to Newport News and managed to accomplish what was needed in time for us to leave a little after 500 and drive back to Charlottesville.  My sister joined us the next day, and the three of us drive to DC, so he could visit the Dulles Air & Space Museum, which was fantastic!  Dad did great!  We drove a wheelchair around with us, but he managed to get along under his own steam, which made him feel wonderful. 

The next day, my brother joined us and we took him to see the Work War II Memorial, which was a little emotional, but I could tell he was very proud.  That night, we attended a choral concert at the National Shrine, a group in which my brother is a tenor - and it was astounding!  We all spent days laughing and loving, and it was one of the more wonderful moments I've had the opportunity to enjoy in a very, very long time.

And now, today, as I was checking to clean up the spam folder, I found a misplaced email from a lovely artist, Linda Lyell, who happened to be traveling through Charlottesville and discovered my work downtown.  On her blog, "Linda Lyell Designs - Finding Passion - Artful Living", she very kindly called her response to my work  "Sha Zaam!", and wrote a very nice blog post about my work. 

Linda is an interesting woman and a terrific artist.  I wandered onto her "about me" page at her website, and there photographed is a lovely bracelet, captioned with "If jewelry could talk...", and, indeed, her work is wonderfully expressive - like it wants to jump out and begin a conversation.

This is the photo she took of my loveseat for her blog...  I just want to know where she was standing to get that photo - I would swear she was standing on someone's shoulders!

What a great way to head into the holiday weekend...

Finding my way later in life

When I wrote the title of this post, I was thinking about a message I received from a friend, Michael, yesterday.  I’ve known Michael for probably ten years, but I’ve actually been in his company a half dozen times in those ten years, and always, until just the other day, at the home of shared friends.

At a recent party (at the home of our shared friends), Michael was very excited to talk about his newest interest, actually a renewed interest, in making glass objects.  His clear glass objects are very simply designed and perfectly finished.  What makes them special (beyond their acknowledged beauty) is the technique, which he calls the Tiffany Technique.  Michael’s website is here, http://www.greenbrierstudioglass.com/. 

At the party, Michael told me he was giving up “his day job” as a framer (picture framer, not house framer).  Actually, I wasn’t even aware he had had a framing business.  The reason I didn’t know he had a framing business is actually the point of this post….  I have been so involved in my personal journey in recent years that I have completely walked away from social engagement, even with friends.  Michael and I would always (but only) talk when we would see each other at the house of these friends, but I had not been to the house of these friends in over five years.  Realizing that fact really hit me; It drove home the fact that my life has taken such a different tack in this post-fifty (it started in my late forties) era.

At the party that evening, I realized that none of these people knew the person I have become.  I was having conversations with people I’ve known for years, and though these people knew I was making mosaic art, they did not understand that the making of my art has blossomed with a new me.   To them, I was the same high-energy Virginia, only now I was wild about making mosaics.  Of course, I believe that I have finally found my life-path, and making art is something I might have been doing all along, if only I would have stopped long enough to listen to my heart. 

  

The art is a result of personal introspection.  The path is new in that I have found it, though I believe it has always been there, waiting to be found.  It took near death to make me stop.  It took a determination to find my way back into light, to find that path.  And I’ve been chopping at the choking vines ever since.

 

Right now, I feel as if the path is a river into which I’ve stepped.  I am floating the river, allowing it to take me where it wants to take me.  At this time, I’m allowing the gentle flow of the river to help me find how the pieces of my life fit together.   I have my art, and I also have my family, my real estate business, my home, my life within the community, all of the many aspects of my life which make me “me”.  I believe that the path is ultimately spiritual and that my spirituality will define how I, specifically, will function within the world in general.

During the party, I mentioned to Michael that I would be doing my volunteer time at the co-op gallery on June 7^th and 8^th.  He remembered, and he stopped by the say hello and see my work.  We chatted for a bit, but he other things on his mind and so went about his business.  I dropped him a note from his website, and I received the following correspondence just yesterday…

Hey Virginia -- how time flies! -- seems like I just discovered this email in my website inbox yesterday -- well actually, I don't check this box that often these days, but great hearing from you, and I am glad you like my work. I seem to be finding endless things that need to get done before I can get back to working in glass in my new space, but the time is coming soon, and I will definitely give you a call. I'd love to do some brainstorming and enjoy some more of your energy. Keep up the good work on your own wonderful things, and I'll be in touch soon.

M.

Apparently, he took a moment to wander about afterwards, including taking a wander through this blog.  And then I received this message….

Virginia -- Earlier this morning, I responded to your email I received through my website, and since then, I have been reading your blog and perusing your website -- and Virginia, I am blown away! I am at a loss for words, really. Like you, I have my answer to "Who am I?" -- and only because I asked -- but I was born with the question in the forefront of my mind: "Why am I here?" -- and I am still working on that one.

I am looking forward to talking to you.

M.

Seems there are many of us who are searching.  We tend to keep that part of us to ourselves, because, really, how do you function when you don’t really know what’s happening, who you are, where you’re headed.  In my case, I basically dropped out.  Maybe it’s getting to be time I can begin to function within a social environment again.  Or maybe not.  Perhaps that really isn’t where I want to be anyway. 

I know that Michael’s message felt good.  They were the kind of words that anyone searching is relieved to receive.  The “I understand”, “me, too”, “hey, I’ve been there” words.

I hear people say that, given the opportunity, they would still not change anything in their life.  They know that there were bad times and things they aren’t proud of, but, ultimately, they would keep things just as they have been and are.  I remember saying the exact same thing some years ago.  Not now.  If I knew then what I know now, I would definitely begin looking for that path way sooner. 

 

 

It's almost Memorial Day and I'm headed for the garden...

It's Thursday before Memorial Day weekend, and I'm itching to be up to my elbows in dirt. 

We’ve had an unusual Spring by recent standards, but it’s been a return to Springs I remember as a child… One day HOT, and then suddenly a FROST.  Always wet.  It makes planning planting interesting!  History tells us not to plant before May 15, and that would have been proper advice this year in the Charlottesville area.

The peonies are in full bloom and gorgeous…

Even some of my roses are beginning to show their colors…

I adore the Baptisia…

 

I’ve had the pleasure of walking the dogs nearly every dry day for the past couple of months.  There are some specific trees and shrubs that specifically caught my attention along Bleak House this Spring.

The Townsend’s pink dogwood won the award for most glorious dogwood…

But, how amazing was the Garrison’s pink dogwood, set against their red gate, oh my….

If you can’t see the buttercups in this photograph, I’m really sorry, because the Shifflett’s definitely had a field full of them…

This was a spot that made me pause each afternoon…

And here are a few from our own property…

Oh, Spring.

Sigh.

Honor with a touch of forgiveness

From Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert...

On my ninth day of silence, I went into meditation one evening on the beach as the sun was going down and I didn't stand up again until after midnight.  I remember thinking, “This is it, Liz" I said to my mind, "This is your chance. Show me everything that is causing you sorrow. Let me see all of it. Don't hold anything back." One by one, the thoughts and memories of sadness raised their hands, stood up to identify themselves. I looked at each thought, at each unit of sorrow, and 1 acknowledged its existence and felt  (without trying to protect myself from it) it’s horrible pain. And then I would tell that sorrow, "It's OK I love you. I accept you. Come into my heart now.  It's over." I would actually feel the sorrow (as if it were a living thing) enter my heart (as if it were an actual room). Then 1 would say, "Next?" and the next bit of grief would surface. I would regard it, experience it, bless it, and invite it into my heart, too. I did this with every sorrowful thought I'd ever had-reaching back into year of memory until nothing was left.

Then I said to my mind, "Show me your anger now." One by one, my life's every incident of anger rose and made itself known. Every injustice, every betrayal, every loss, every rage.  I saw them all, one by one, andI acknowledged their existence. I felt each piece of anger completely, as if it were happening for the first time, and then I would say, "Come into my heart now. You can rest there. It's safenow. It's over. I love you."  This went on for hours, and I swung between these mighty poles of opposite feelings-experiencing my anger thoroughly for one bone-rattling moment, and thenexperiencing a total coolness, as the anger entered my heart as if through a door, laid itself down, curled up against its brothers and gave up fighting.

 

Then came the most difficult part. "Show me your shame," I asked my mind. Dear God, the horrors that I saw then. A pitiful parade of all my failings, my lies, my selfishness, jealousy, arrogance. I didn't blink from any of it, though. "Show me your worst," I said. When I tried to invite these units of shame into my heart, they each hesitated at the door, saying, "No-you don't want me in there ... don't you know what I did?" and I would say, "I do want you. Even you. I do. Even you are welcome here. Its OK.  You are forgiven. You are part of me. You can rest now. It's over."

I enjoyed the Gilbert book very much, but when I reached the words above, which are located 4 pages from the end of the book, I burst out crying, and I knew that I was supposed to read this book for that advice.

 

This river of personal discovery on which I am floating requires some serious healing work.  I'm a very happy person, but I carry around a bunch of baggage.  I don't think this makes me particularly different or special, because, unless you live in a vacuum, you are bound to pick unpleasant memories along the way of life.  It's a lot like a hard drive ... all of those bits and pieces of stray files and data, they tend to bog down the system.  If you're lucky, you can run a clean-up program, and defrag now and then, and the system keeps perking along.  Some of us want to go a bit further, and I am at a stage in my life that calls for some serious expunging.  The only way I am personally going to be able to do that is by acknowledging, and forgiving, events, situations, myself, and others.

 

I'll get there.

 

Regardless of the negative people out there, I've had a steady stream of supportive people in my life.  Lately, the woman I wrote about in my last blog entry, Terri St. Cloud of Bone Sigh Arts, has given me an extra out-of-the-blue boost.  The evening that I met Terri, I knew immediately that we shared a certain spirit.  It is rare to find someone who wears their world right out there on their outside.  I do that, and Terri does that.  We had just a brief time together, but we shared an immediate comfort.

 

I would not want anyone to think that I am even remotely suggesting that I am as compassionate as Terri, because I am not.  No, we share other attributes, primarily an unending supply of energy and an ability to be available when someone opens the door.  I like that about myself, because it means I find a lot of very cool opportunities.  I like it when I find those characteristics in others, because we don’t have to waste time getting to know each other:  We know who we are when we meet.  Terri kindly wrote about our meeting in her blog, too.  When I read it, I thought to myself, “Well, okay, kid… If you can have that effect on another human being, then you must be doing something right.”

 

Making art has been one of the best things I’ve ever done for “me”.  I get to have some fun, translate my thoughts and emotions visually, think creatively, make a mess, totally lose myself in my passion. 

 

My customers keep me going.  I had the privilege of meeting some customers at the Gallery a few weeks ago.  They bought one of my large mirrors.  They were very fun people, and they loved my work.  I asked them to send me photos of the piece once it was installed.  They did, and they were hilarious photographs of them reflected in the mirror.  I loved it.

I almost lost a customer the other day, because I didn’t believe he was real.  Have I become so cynical that I assume the worst?  I have always been a glass-half-full person, but this hormonal roller coaster is causing shifts in my temperament that I’m not loving at all.  Ultimately, we had a lovely conversation, this new customer and I, and he is purchasing two of my favorite pieces, the new Garden Vase and Secrets.  I am very lucky he stuck with me.  His first email message was pretty sketchy, so I was sure he was a scammer.  His second message felt a little better, but I was still reserved in my response.   Then he telephoned, and we talked, and all was very nice.  Then I messed up the transaction on the cash register, and while packing the pieces for shipping, I found two small dings on the frame of Secrets, so I’ve had to order a new frame.  Oh Heavens.   I know he will love them once he gets them.

I am entirely honored by the kindness of the people who compliment my work with words and by making a purchase for themselves.  I don’t think there could be a greater feeling than knowing that someone wants to own something I’ve made.  Each piece says something about me, so it is very wonderful that it might speak to someone else.

Honor

I have a friend named Terri St. Cloud.  Terri is a giver.  Terri is the reason I have thought a lot about the word “honor” lately.   

Terri is the artist behind Bone Sigh Arts, and it is because of Bone Sigh Arts that Terri’s life has touched my own.

Maybe you’ve seen Terri’s art, her words with her images….

Terri sees the good in people, and, with her art, she encourages you to see the good in you and the possibilities all around you.

Terri began Bone Sigh Arts at that time in her life that most of us reach at some point, a time when our life as we know it abruptly changes.   Whether death, divorce, illness, or some other tragic event,  our carefree self is forced to face a stark reality for which we are not sure we are prepared.  But we somehow survive.  We struggle, we fight, we look deep within ourselves to find the strength to climb from the depths of our darkness into light. 

Terri calls Bone Sigh Arts “Reflections of a woman’s journey on her path to find real”.  With her also-incredibly-talented-and-empathetic sons, Terri has built a business that seeks to cure through images and words.  She shares the depths of her soul so that we may see within our own. 

With her sons, Terri has collected her stories into a series of books.  One of these books is called
“I Matter”…

what happens when a person wakes up and figures out that they matter?  when the idea begins to take root and starts to become part of them?

for me, my life turned upside down. it was as if i had to rebuild my entire life, my entire belief structure.

filled with fear and insecurities, i wandered along. the belief that there was more for me out there pulled me forward, and i found my way.

these poems are reflections of part of my journey down the road to figuring out that i matter. i invite you to join me along the path, all the while grabbing your own life.... and living out the knowing that you matter.

There’s another collection of stories in a book called "Honor Yourself", which is also a phrase which describes Terri's wish for others.   It began with a young woman that Terri knew, a woman who could not find her way out of the darkness.  Her suicide hit Terri very hard, and through Bone Sighs, Terri tried to make sense of it.

" i started thinking about some of the things she went thru and how she didn't know that she was of value...

and i thought of other people, still here, who are struggling in their own darkness not understanding their value. i so wanted to reach out and touch those people."

“Honor Yourself” was thus born, and so was a bumper sticker with that sentiment.  Terri told me she received a message from a woman who happened to see this bumper sticker one day.  She wrote to tell Terri that it changed her life, that she realized that she had lost sight of her own value.  This is what keeps Terri going.  Terri, the giver; Terri, the woman who honors us all with her words, her expressions of love.