scraps and scrapes




It feels a fitting way to start this weeks post…(which….

in case you didn’t notice) is not happening on a Saturday…

Last week was a bit of a monstrous one for me in some ways…

cute monsters found on pinterest

too much for this one all by myself…


Lots of angels were working loads of overtime this past last week…

[ several angels with human faces…as well as heavenly ones…. ]

Made it with just a few scrapes…


with a few scraps appearing to keep moving me forward…

read Miguel Escobar on the LAAA post for Sept 18, 17

I keep stepping out into the seeming void…

which always reveals itself as the path of love leading to the doorway of love…

where I am invited to come in and rest for a while…

before packing the suitcase for the next leg of this blessed pilgrimage…

today is the end of something wonderful…

tomorrow is the beginning of something wonderful…


Look to this day,
for it is life, the very breath of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the realities of your existence;
the bliss of growth,
the glory of action,
the splendor of beauty.
For yesterday is only a dream,
and tomorrow is but a vision.
But today, well lived,
makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
and every tomorrow
a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.

– Kalidasa


Today is THE day!

feel everything as deeply as you can

Dance a little!

Pray a little!

Cry a little!

Laugh a little!

yes, life flows even when it is ‘fashioned by scraps’




part i

In the middle of the road of my life

I awoke in a dark wood

where the true way was wholly lost.

                                                        – Dante


December 3, 2012 I woke up to one of the hardest days I’ve ever experienced…

windowless dark
so black
day and night are always the same here
just a faint sliver moon of light
a shadowy, shining string under the door

light of this buried basement hallway

draws me like a moth
towards the entrance to life

just like the first day I entered this world

would I have entered so easily then
if I had known this day was coming?
hot tears drip into my ears
I get up and open the door
as the bright hits me
hard in the eyes
On the day I died
water ran through pipes,
footsteps identified people in the house and
the dogs nails clicked quickly on the wood floors above my head,
insisting it was time to go out for relief.
I still needed coffee,
light with cream,
2 sugars.
The sun was bright
and I remember the sky was that deep blue,
romantically named, azurite.
There was cockscomb,
half alive in pots near the wooden footbridge I walked over.
I used to love them when I was alive.
I touched their red, velvety, blooms seeking to feel something.
I mistook fluttering angel wings for birds,
battles fought,
just beyond where I lay
on the words of Wendell Berry –
the only thread
keeping me tethered to this world.
I sat on benches beside ghosts
of those who had gone before me.
I could still only feel them beside me,
I was in the world between worlds.
There was darkness, a fire swamp, screaming, clashes of swords,
I could not save myself.
God was everywhere.
I found myself in a boat,
where I stayed for over 2 years, until,
the call came to step out,
to start walking on water.
Late in that day,
I stood in the bathroom,
accepting the most insulting job offer I have ever received,
then sat on a stool,
trying to act as if I was alive,
pretending to look for puzzle pieces,
slightly aware of the colors and shapes,
singing echoes of songs I used to love,
with my beautiful Robin,
who seemed very much alive.
I am heavy
Stepping into my day
with sand bagged feet
Hello life
In this dark day
I look for beauty
<It’s always there, right>
I wonder if I would have jumped
or gone back to die
If I had really known how hard it would be…
On and on the thoughts play
Do I really believe it will ever get better?
No answer comes…
I move away from the question
I made my choice to stay all those years ago
I will not abandon my vow
I  go curl up
In the Legacy Garden
On the round plaque with Wendell Berry’s
words of understanding of the dark night
keep me tethered to this unhospitable world
      I part the out thrusting branches
      And come in beneath the blessed
and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
There is singing around me.
Though I am dark
There is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
There is flight around me.
                –  Wendell Berry
Underneath the gondola’s roof of painted ever-green leaves –
I lay for unnumbered hours
then I am picked up in gentle hands
and gently lowered into a boat
as hell rages around me

somehow I can’t help feeling
all that is missing is a raven quoth-ing Poe


I was in total ‘darkness’ for about two and a half years….before light began to re-emerge…
I have sought answers for the many questions I hold since this happened to me…
In so many ways, almost 5 years later, I am no closer to understanding any part of this mysterious event…
I also know this extraordinary experience will influence my life for the rest of my time here on this planet…

Into the deepest darkness
Into the belly of hell
Within the circle of silence
far inside my soul
Places I’ve never seen before
Didn’t know existed
The mystery of the Spirit
Where death resides
Fearful places
Cracking open
So secret I want to flee
Afraid of this place
Am I here alone?
Now I cry with Christ,
My God, my God
Why have You forsaken me?
What if I can’t escape?
What if death wins?
I know how weak I am without You
Now I see
The victory is already Yours
You were there
You are always there
The stone is slowly rolling
Hopes rise
As darkness trembles
I kneel at the tomb door
wisdom I was sure of
bound tightly
discarded on the pile
to be burned
creating space
for this unnamable, devastating grace

Trembling as I rise
as I begin to walk

I notice my limp

I am forever changed


“Before the Storm” photo Paul Calli in Miami via Facebook
other photos and memes via pinterest / al513
listen to:
part ii 
During my dark night, as I struggled to breathe….
as I kept getting stuck…
when doing even the simplest of tasks seemed impossible for me to accomplish…
some things became very important…

to be continued next Saturday…



holding hope in arms of love

And what if I spoke of despair—who doesn’t feel it?

Who doesn’t know the way it seizes,
leaving us limp, deafened by the slosh
of our own blood, rushing
through the narrow, personal
channels of grief.

It’s beauty that brings it on,

calls it out from the wings for one more song.

Rain pooled on a fallen oak leaf,

reflecting the pale cloudy sky, dark canopy of foliage not yet fallen.

Or the red moon in September, so large you have to pull over at the top of Bayona and stare,

like a photo of a lover in his uniform,

not yet gone;
or your own self, as a child,
on that day your family stayed at the sea,

watching the sun drift down,
lazy as a beach ball, and you fell asleep with sand

in the crack of your smooth behind.
That’s when you can’t deny it.

Water. Air.
They’re still here, like a mother’s palms,
sweeping hair off our brow, her scent
swirling around us.

But now your own car is pumping poison,

delivering its fair share of destruction.

We’ve created a salmon with the red, white, and blue shining on one side.
Frog genes spliced into tomatoes—

as if the tomato hasn’t been humiliated enough.
I heard a man argue that genetic engineering was more dangerous
than a nuclear bomb.

Should I be thankful he was alarmed by one threat, or worried he’d gotten used to the other?

Maybe I can’t offer you any more than you can offer me—
but what if I stopped on the trail, with shreds of manzanita bark lying in russet scrolls and yellow bay leaves,

little lanterns in the dim afternoon, and cradled despair in my arms,

the way I held my own babies after they’d fallen asleep,

when there was no reason to hold them,

only I didn’t want to put them down.



Ellen Bass

During natural disasters two enemy animals
will call a truce, so during a hurricane
an owl will share a tree with a mouse
and, during an earthquake, you might find
a mongoose wilted and shivering
beside a snake. The bear will sit down
in a river and ignore the passing salmon
just as the lion will allow the zebra
to walk home without comment.
I love that there are exceptions.
At funerals and weddings, for example,
the aunts who never speak nod
politely to one another. When my mother
was sick even the prickly neighbors
left flowers and cakes at our door.


Natural Disasters by Faith Shearin

The terrible danger isn’t so much not believing in God — but believing in terrible things about God.

Jordyn Grace clung to her mama while the waters rose in Houston, while they were swept away in a parking lot, swept down a swirling canal, swept into the monstrous terror of Harvey.

Jordyn Grace’s mama never let go of her 3-year-old baby with her pink backpack still strapped on, though her own spirit left her, rising, rising higher than the floodwaters.

When they found shivering Jordyn Grace bobbing on the waters, held by her lifeless mama, she whispered, “Mama was saying her prayers.

What if we saw that God answered every one of our prayers by giving us more of Himself?

What if suffering didn’t leave us questioning God — but left us seeing that God is always the answer?


Read Ann’s full amazing blog here!

the darkness has no answers.

silence is just silence.

fall, and the world laughs at you

there you lay alone on the broken sidewalk

scared to move into the jagged spaces where life grows in-spite of the hardships

there is no safe space to sit and adjust to the dark night.

as life, the sacred gift, blurs

having lost our way and, in certain moments, even our hope,

this wearying illusion,

waiting to be shattered by the screams of the raging

oh my love, do not despair

this too shall pass

the sun will shine again

sleep for a moment

hearts, still beating, even though out of time

breathe in breathe out

the world keeps turning on

just for you

just for me

keep walking towards the Western sun setting, there is always a new beginning


Amy Lloyd

making a difference


our greatest blessing….

Our biggest curse….


every minute of our lives we are choosing…

Ok, I no longer want them,
the many selves I had to manage


that once exhausted friends. I believed


in angels then, thought I might be
an angel—that was me, flying off


on a tangent, just so we could land
on one of my many balconies


so we could look down on everyone.

Old Selves by Ira Sadoff

Every minute we have the ability to change our lives….

to turn around and start in a new direction…

Ester Steintjes – Joyfull Art

life is always changing….even when we don’t think so….

keep in mind…not making a choice is, in reality, making a choice….


Every action, every choice, is yours alone…yet always effects others in great ways as well….

our choices are what create our lives…

the way to a new start is integrity…

Read more about The Four Agreements

character is making the right choices every time….every action matters…

deciding who we want to be and then choosing to become that person…

remember, consistency is key…

stand in and on the truth you believe…


something very interesting about the truth…


Mark Nepo tells us, 

‘put down what doesn’t work – 

so that we can find what is sacred.’ 

What worked so well yesterday 

may not work for today 

We wear out our structures of known truth

the frameworks of what we use for living

for healing

Let them go

step into the truth being revealed today

trust in the new architecture:


with our personal, classic twist 

We are always becoming 

Watch for the signs of structural failure 

the lies we speak rust the infrastructure we rely on

build a new bridge on the truth of your own voice

delight in this magnificent design

those amazing cranes hanging in the water

strong, foundational columns

rising from deep within the waters of yourself 

creating the new skyline of your life 

welcome this new place of crossing

It can handle rush hour


heavy foot-traffic

all are welcome here

nothing is hidden

Continue the build 

always creating yourself

with the future in mind

before the old fully implodes

underneath our feet

the truth will always set you free

speaking that out loud is the choice

which is always yours to make


Amy Lloyd


Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude –
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing

just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,

do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.


Invitation by Mary Oliver




no, we are not free from the consequences of our actions…yet, we can always start new…today!


Don’t wait!!!

photos and memes found on pinterest and google images






A derecho (/dəˈreɪtʃoʊ/, from Spanish: derecho [deˈɾetʃo], “straight”) is a widespread, long-lived, straight-line wind storm that is associated with a land-based, fastmoving group of severe thunderstorms. Derechos can cause hurricane-force winds, tornadoes, heavy rains, and flash floods.

{ read more about this here }




it was after I finished this post for early on a Saturday morning…

a quick- moving storm hit me…

there was a large surprise bill…

not easily fit into my my extremely tight, freshly-crafted budget…


[ gasp ]                     { sputter }                 ( deluge of salt water* )


Photo via m.e.

                                              – overwhelmed is understated

*cue tissues, bad mascara, puffy eyes




(Photo by Charlie Doane/facebook/Branford Photography)

And then….

just as quickly as I am swallowed by this insurmountable thing…

a friend steps in….


and gives…

a gift…

which brings me full circle back to ground zero…

and the storm is over…


and I am left completely worn out…

staggered and amazed…


think of that story of ‘no miracle’ miracle!

Anticipation of
coming back to life
moving through the grey
into the breaking light
lingering like honey on my sticky fingers
There is no guarantee of anything in this lifetime
however there are amazing things hidden
which bring forth their fruit
in their season
Sometimes it feels like it just won’t happen,
flash, boom, bang
and you got okra up to the second floor windows!
after 11 year of planting and receiving nothing for your labor,
you get a full bushel of corn!
Go ahead, live with hope
Plan with expectancy
all good things
come in their time

Amy Lloyd


Jen Lemen @ Hopeful World






Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.
So it’s fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.

You fasten my seatbelt because it is the law.
In your two ton death trap I finally saw.
A piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret.
Then you drove me to places I’ll never forget.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.


The woman/man you’re becoming will cost you…
people, relationships, spaces and material things.

Choose her/him over everything. 


we are so fragile….

my wedding picture….August of 1985….


just a few hours before I would begin learning about pain…


Tonight I cry for that girl
the one who knew nothing at the start
she worked so hard to do it your way
she wanted your friendship
she wanted your heart
to make you happy
for you to love her
she wanted to know why
you wanted her to suffer

I cry for her innocence
I cry for her pain
each one of her losses
and all of her shame
there she stood alone
facing hurricanes
no shelter at all
from the wind or the rain
yes, tonight I cry for that girl



Today I laugh with that girl
the one who learned it all the hard way
she worked so damn hard she choose hell to pay
just to be happy
to know that she was ok
to find her way home
to speak her own truth
to share her best life
under her very own roof

I laugh for her goodness
laugh with her joy
share all of her losses
as well as her gains
still standing strong
still singing her songs
with those who come along
yes, today I laugh with that girl

Amy Lloyd


the past few years have found me without a home of my own…

the things I have learned by sharing homes with various people over the past few years has been an incredible learning experience…

a true gift to me in every way…

Tho I have noticed, it has made it harder for me to let go of my few belongings…

yet, somehow, right now, in this moment, I feel very strongly it is time….

life is a STILL trying to teach me the value of letting things go….


It really comes down to this, doesn’t it?


life is a fragile balancing act…home is definitely made within our hearts…


…all of our most important stuff we always carry within us…

❤                                   ❤                           ❤                                    ❤

An open sandy shell
on the beach
empty but beautiful
like a memory
of a protected
previous self.

The most
difficult griefs,
ones in which
we slowly open
to a larger sea,
a grander sweep
that washes
all our elements apart.

So strange the way
we are larger
in grief
than we imagined
we deserved
or could claim

and when loss
floods into us
like the long darkness it is
and the old nurtured hope
is drowned again,
even stranger then
at the edge of the sea,
to feel the hand of the wind
laid on our shoulder,

reminding us
how death grants
a fierce and fallen freedom
away from the prison
of a constant
and continued presence,

how in the end
those who have left us
might no longer need us,
with all our tears
and our much needed
measures of loss
and that their own death
is as personal
and private
as that life of theirs
which you never really knew,

and another disturbing thing,
that exultation
is possible
without them.

And they for themselves
in fact
are glad to have let go
of all the stasis
and the enclosure
and the need for them to live
like some prisoner
that you only wanted
to remain incurious
and happy in your love,

never looking for the key,
never wanting to
turn the lock and walk

like the wind,
unneedful of you,

From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems
Many Rivers Press. © David Whyte


sliding doors

It’s been a month of many returns…

portals sliding open…

stepping out onto old platforms or straight into various museums of long-hard-guarded memories…


This Eclipse

We can know all of our emotional patterns. All the triggers that trigger us. All the spaces that are unsafe for us. All the ways something can get stuck in us.

We can do all the therapy. Read all the books. Go to all the groups and still need schooling. Still be struck with an insight that floors us. Cracks our hearts wide open. Knocks the wind right out of us. Knowing is one thing. Feeling is another.

That’s what eclipse season is for.

The lunar eclipse at 15° of Aquarius occurs on August 7th, at 11:11 AM PT.

Occurring near the south node of the moon, a point that is associated with emptying out, releasing and letting go of the old, this eclipse is pointing towards the emotional patterns within us that need to be made conscious. Known. Felt.

This is a time of great vulnerability. A time where much gets exposed in order to be let go of. A full moon is a time of fruition, the apex or fulfillment of an intention. A south node lunar eclipse is both the realization of something in our lives, and the illumination of what gets in the way of future fulfillment.

Eclipses are a time when the most subtle of our issues get magnified. The ones that hide behind larger, more obvious issues. Eclipses are a time when we witness what lives in the shadows. The aspects of self that feel unloved and unloveable. Neglected and not worth paying attention to. Forgotten and forgettable. South node eclipses are a time when old stories lines return. Asking us to revisit and re-experience feelings we forgot existed, feelings embedded deep inside the tissues of the body of our lives.

We might feel frustrated. Foolish. Afraid that we are back at this place. Reliving this issue. Revisiting this pattern. But our healing process is non-linear. Nonconforming. Nonjudgmental. It feels no way about bringing up something that we thought we solved long ago.

Our healing process knows how to call us out. Knows how to call us in for our next healing initiation. Knows how to call us by our real names.

Our job is to answer the call.

Our job is to feel our way through the experience. To bear witness to our process in ways no one else can. To seek out the folks that can help us hold what is too big for us all on our own. To grant ourselves the gift of validation.

This eclipse is sitting in opposition to Mars and trining Jupiter.

Mars represents a challenge. A fight. A conflict. When we know that we are up against something that feels overwhelming, we have to take actions that will help us to unpack it. Break it down. Process it. A trine to Jupiter signifies a strong will to overcome. To create opportunity. To make bounty out of our current situation.

Encourage yourself to reach out for the help that you need. Remind yourself that you are not alone on your healing path. Remind yourself that it is not the past, that you have new tools to help you, new support systems to connect to, new ways to work through whatever it is working you.

Eclipse blessings,

Chani Nicholas


Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it. 

– Rumi

I decide to watch this video every day for 40 days…

As I work through these weeks I begin to see my need for ‘marble jar’ friends…







Sane Marble & Sane Marble Friends xII                   by Linda Whitstone Perry
{ find Linda on Facebook }






we find ourselves in jeopardy over and over…







there are so many patterns and illusions we carry….




some of them beautiful, or maybe even fun in some ways…




We forget the nature and teeth are real on the cute alligator riding a bicycle…


sometimes it’s tricky to identify things that can be harmful to our long term life goals…

some beliefs we never think to challenge…

                              because we ‘want’ them to be true…

                                                                     they’re our ‘sacred cows’…


                        ❤                                               ❤                                        ❤

[ example –

until recently I never challenged my

beliefs and my patterns

in, around and about relationships…


I wanted a relationship more than anything ]

I am learning to do this most difficult of inner work…

challenging some of my most holy and intimately held beliefs in new and ground shaking manners…

as I am letting go of the old…



yes, THIS fact of what we gain as we keep letting go…

is still one of the ever-surprising platforms I always find under my feet…



Image sources found on google images and pinterest / al513

classic replay

I heard a story once — as a matter of fact, I’ve heard a lot of stories in my time. They began with the sound of a tinny piano playing in a parlor downstairs…


July turns to August…

It’s still the same old story/ A fight for love and glory...

hot and waaaay too humid…

Go ahead and shoot. You’ll be doing me a favor.



….A doorbell rings in the middle of the movie…

bringing a long-avoided visitor from long ago…

suddenly – harshly interrupting this semi-comfortable-zone of my current….

Why did you have to come to Casablanca? There are other places.

In one swift moment of my normal evening, a Facebook message brings back someone from years before….
I never expected this moment to occur…

Welcome back to the fight. This time I know our side will win.

this most respected warrior of mine with the high calling…

…If we stop breathing, we’ll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die

knocks, once again, on the door my heart..

When I said I would never leave you

And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow.


the changable shadows of our choices repeat and circle back around for us to discover new things…

you can replay your personal classics over and over…

But what about us?                                                   

                                             We’ll always have Paris.


< inspiration by m.e. >

we keep stepping into what we try so hard to ignore…

You know what I want to hear…
..You played it for her, you can play it for me!
Well, I don’t think I can remember
If she can stand it, I can! Play it!


we can’t simply forget….

Not an easy day to forget.                               …I remember every detail.
The Germans wore gray, you wore blue


until we resolve and release…

Repressed and suppressed feelings require counter-energy to keep them submerged. It takes energy to hold down our feelings. As these feelings are relinquished, the energy that had been holding down the negativity is now freed for constructive uses.

– Dr. David R. Hawkins


The chemicals that are running our body and our brain are the same chemicals that are involved in emotion. And that says to me that . . . wed better pay more attention to emotions with respect to health.

– Dr. Candace Pert


As she had been walking from the ward to that room, she had felt such pure hatred that now she had no more rancor left in her heart. She had finally allowed her negative feelings to surface, feelings that had been repressed for years in her soul. She had actually FELT them, and they were no longer necessary, they could leave.

– Paulo Coelho

The Tapping Solution / blog: Letting Go of the Past

we keep getting chances to make our lives over….

It is true…

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, its yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be.                                                                 – Unknown

 We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca.
We got it back last night.

I walk through this week in full-out survival mode…



I know this is life

always full

some things will be bitter….

but MOSTLY life is so very full of sweet…

I am feeling all the feels!!!
{pulling them close…wrapping them all around me}

as I walk in this holy realization of…

amazing grace…

absolute imperfect-perfect…

the awe inspiring, magical nature of love…

this brilliant beauty of everything happening in the burning-glory moments of now…

so, raise a glass with me and make a toast to LIFE!!!!

…give a little…take a little….

…laugh a little…cry a little….

trust the timingIMG_9213[1]

Leave, and leave often.

Don’t try so hard,

run so far,

clock it in

or follow every thought


they drift

catch on fire

produce a movie

write a song


leave, and leave often

the ways in which you carry on,

project the dialogue that isn’t there

invent a story for the happiness of others


leave and leave often

stranded words on dead end corners

where homeless men and women 

have tiny cups

to catch the drops


leave and leave often

every church that will not hold you

every god that does not sing of Your glory

every hour you do not birth


leave and leave often

the rules and the order

the catalogue of diversity

the angst of starting over

wanderings that lead one off in corners


leave, and leave often

so the wood  keeps the glow


Rev. Donna Knutson
(find her on Facebook)IMG_8214[1]

if you only ever know one thing about me…

if you ever want to understand my ‘message’

it is this:


keep it to the fundamentals…

there is more goodness in this world than any other thing…


Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.’

…Here’s looking at you, kid.


Photos from Pinterest / Casablanca Quotes

breaking frames

it’s been hovering all month…


five years ago…July 27th…

I remember the day…

I can still taste it…


we capture moments in our memory…

we frame them…

in some way…

the way we want them to be…


 It was after dinner.
You were talking to me across the table
about something or other,
a greyhound you had seen that day
or a song you liked,

and I was looking past you
over your bare shoulder
at the three oranges lying
on the kitchen counter
next to the small electric bean grinder,
which was also orange,
and the orange and white cruets for vinegar and oil.

All of which converged
into a random still life,
so fastened together by the hasp of color,
and so fixed behind the animated
foreground of your
talking and smiling,
gesturing and pouring wine,
and the camber of your shoulders

that I could feel it being painted within me,
brushed on the wall of my skull,
while the tone of your voice
lifted and fell in its flight,
and the three oranges
remained fixed on the counter
the way that stars are said
to be fixed in the universe.

Then all of the moments of the past
began to line up behind that moment
and all of the moments to come
assembled in front of it in a long row,
giving me reason to believe
that this was a moment I had rescued
from millions that rush out of sight
into a darkness behind the eyes.

Even after I have forgotten what year it is,
my middle name,
and the meaning of money,
I will still carry in my pocket
the small coin of that moment,
minted in the kingdom
that we pace through every day.


This much I do Remember Billy Collins




maybe this is the way we need them to be…

for our own comfort…

in order to continue…

to allow life to carry us forward…


they become our legends….

we remember what we want to remember….

based on who we want to be…

how we want to define our own lives…


our lives, in many ways, depend on them…

or at very least, count on them to keep us ‘safe’ for a while…

until the fullness of time comes…

and we are ready to expand into a higher place of love…

Somewhere is a lover

Reaching back through time and space

True depth of soul’s reflection

…Ever written on their face


Somewhere there is a heartbeat true

As seek such mysteries

If only we could just reach though

And fulfill desires dreams…




Warren Miner

they shape us….

remaining in their frames…

until the day we choose to reframe them…

to alter our endings…

to break open the guarded perfect square of our own framed hearts…

and maybe draw a few off-balance circles…


I found the white, square frame
The one I had given him
with the word I painted for him,
He never understood my offering,
we speak a different language
He and I.
Might as well be speaking
Klingon to a Tribble.
I reclaimed the empty frame
and filled it once again
for me
with the word
He doesn’t understand that word either –
Of course, in all fairness,
my own understanding and definition of that word
has gone through a huge renovation
over the past couple of years as well.
I smile at the frame
glad it came back to me
for this redefining moment of my life.

Amy Lloyd






In the glare of neon times,

 Let our eyes not be worn

 By surfaces that shine

 With hunger made attractive. 


That our thoughts may be true light,

 Finding their way into words

 Which have the weight of shadow

 To hold the layers of truth. 


That we never place our trust

 In minds claimed by empty light,

 Where one-sided certainties

 Are driven by false desire. 


When we look into the heart,

 May our eyes have the kindness

 And reverence of candlelight.


That the searching of our minds 

 Be equal to the oblique

 Crevices and corners where

 The mystery continues to dwell,

 glimmering in fugitive light. 


John O’Donohue 


and today…5 years later…

I look at this snapshot in my mind…

from a space of newness…

from a place of breaking my own set rules…

challenging my own framed memories…

allowing my own unresolved, unabsorbed anger…

to break free into these memories…


I set about deliberately breaking frames…

my gold-plated beliefs about my memorial days…

knowing…for sure…

we are each more powerful than we know…

we can each challenge the framing we have created…

we can each unplug from the grids set up for us and by us…

we can each paint new pieces of beauty into our lives…

we can each write new endings to the epic love stories we are living!

[ embracing the UNFRAMED & OFF-balance.!. ❤ ]






I start this week with all these tangled threads….

intertwined wishes by artist Glenda Miles

Google images

these seemingly new pieces…are not new


The colors blend
I think about
the importance of doing both well
how does it happen?
how do we live and die with grace?
the longer I live I am more and more convinced
It centers around our
which lead us to
our choices are all important
to both our living
and our dying
if I want to die with grace
I must live with grace
to live with grace
I must choose my thoughts wisely
I must listen to the wisdom which tells me,
Guard your heart, child, for everything you do flows from your heart.

Amy Lloyd


Amy Lloyd Art

Most of my anger carries me back into places of my deepest loss…

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is
Stitched with its color

W S Merwin


it seems to be deeply rooted in my loss of innocence…

Anger seems to be, in many ways, akin to grief….


Jeff Brown @facebook / other images @ google

Yet there’s some additional brutal, toxic element involved…


I wears me out and leaves me in a state of chaos…

Never set a tiger free if you live in its mountain

       – advice from a cookie


google images

 It is not an emotion I enjoy…


There’s an element of hate-ugliness involved that makes me want to run…

Only stars are free and they are so lonely. Curse what you will but give thanks that everything alive wants something from you.
                  – Mark Nepo from The Way Under the Way

sounds threads

eventually it all connects

Can you pet the yeti

living behind your front door?

Will you water the dead tulips

still standing upright beside your bed?

eventually you meet yourself

beyond the mirror of your knowledge

Can you say no to the wo/man of your dreams?

Will you eat every scrap of chocolate you can find the day after Lent disappears into resurrection?

eventually we all sit on a sandy beach contemplating the ocean

Can you stay in this moment where the lint collects you might have for lunch?

Will you walk the narrow road while Nero fiddles? While Rome burns?

eventually we will catch up to those on the other side of the world

Can you be patient and wait for your own moment?

Will you stay with me even for a little while?

eventually it continues to the next phase

Can you grow into your own fine self?

Will you let the child play just a little along the way?

eventually we all end up wearing a groutfit when we arrive home from work

Can you say thank you for the threads of beauty connecting us?

Will you answer the phone when a new friend calls?

eventually it all becomes music

Can you plant a broken record to make songs grow?

Will you allow yourself to write love songs as the band plays on?

Amy Lloyd


We are God’s thread
weaving through the tapestry,
the masterpiece is slowly
Potential for beauty, we can’t know,
revealing glory
so bright
it makes the sun squint
and reach for sunglasses.
Brilliance so far beyond ourselves
we go shining into the gray
as we open to the new jewels appearing,
sparkling in the moonlight.
As we step into the needle’s eye
the angels catch their breath,
cheering our blazing garments,
dazzled by the vision
God is revealing through the creation.
As we surrender to the greatest mystery,
the beauty we inhabit
becomes us,
walking in humble clay
eyes out shining the stars
set in the heavens.
Until we totally disappear and all that’s left
is holiness
so pure
all we can do
bow in wonder
at ourselves
and give thanks
as the silk thread
becomes liquid gold and silver
pure and simple
as we realize our place.
We are the temple of our creator.
The home of God. 

Amy Lloyd




Break in me whatever needs to be broken.

Fix my hope of ever being fixed.

Use me. Draw every ounce of creativity out of me. Help me live a radically unique life, forever forging a never-before-trodden path in the forest.

Show me how to love more deeply than I ever thought possible.

Whatever I am still turning away from, keep shoving in my face.

Whatever I am still at war with, help me soften towards, relax into, fully embrace.

Where my heart is still closed, show me a way to open it without violence.

Where I am still holding on, help me let go.

Give me challenges and struggles and seemingly insurmountable obstacles, if that will bring an even deeper humility and trust in the intelligence of life.

Help me laugh at my own seriousness.

Allow me to find the humour in the dark places.

Show me a profound sense of rest in the midst of the storm.

Don’t spare me from the truth. Ever.

Let gratitude be my guide.

Let forgiveness be my mantra.

Let this moment be a constant companion.

Let me see your face in every face.

Let me feel your warm presence in my own presence.

Hold me when I stumble.

Breathe me when I cannot breathe.

Let me die living, not live dying.


– Jeff Foster


and I keep breaking my own rules…

challenging my own determined truth…

doing the work…

needle pulling threads into place….


so I can sing and live and connect
with a free and joy-full heart…