Art is Life is Art: June – Rest


It’s been the order of the day for the past few weeks…


When Meghan shared June’s word for our collaboration, I was surprised, but not really.  The word Rest, was already all over the pages of my journal.  I think that the spontaneous writing of the word was a prayer of sorts – a longing bubbling to the surface of my knowing.


Rest was June’s word and now August is here.  My blogging sabbatical is officially over.  The sabbatical that was originally going to be a week until it stretched into two weeks and then, became two months.


I confess, that after pretty consistently showing up with words and images for the past 5 years, I needed a bit of an artistic nap.

I used to ignore my body and my needs.

Push through.  Be tough.  Git ‘er done.

I was tired often and hurt a lot.  Both inside and out.  So now, I pay attention.  I believe that concrete sensations like hunger, thirst, aches and pains show the way.  As we listen to the subtle {and sometimes not-so-subtle} internal messages that come to us via our body, the next steps emerge.

Exhaustion and anxiety often lead to revelations & minute course corrections.

Slow down or take a turn.

Adjust your pace or give way.

Move quickly or turn around.

Walk away or press in.

If we can’t tell from facts and figures, often our bodies will get our attention and put us back on the path.  Of course now I have a huge queue of photos and posts and prompts and projects to share.  Plus, some slight adjustments and new things.

All in good time.

blue nest

One of the many blank pages created during June & July’s season of rest.

{gesso, packing label, tissue paper, origami paper, water color crayon, ink, acrylic}

p.s.  July’s word = BIRD   August’s word = TBA

By |2016-10-19T14:20:34-04:00August 2nd, 2011|Art is Life is Art, Journals|4 Comments

Art is Life is Art: Good Friday & Waiting Saturday

Bright Sadness

Yesterday was a day for darkness.

In the Orthodox Church, the Lenten season is called the season of Bright Sadness.  A beautiful phrase that came to life last night as we literally sat in the dark.   Remembering The Cross and stepping into mourning, there was orientation and life.

Today is a day for waiting.

I confess I don’t wait well.  I know how to look back.  When I look back, I have learned to analyze, connect dots or tap into emotions.  And I can look forward with ideation, vision and hope.

But waiting…waiting I don’t do so well.  Waiting feels like treading water with no end in sight.

A million years ago, when I was 20-ish, I wrote a song with a friend.  It started with a line out of my journal:

“Pulled in so many ways,  too much life in one day…”

and landed in a chorus that said, “I will wait to be your glory.”

In that song, I was trying to make sense of season of upheaval. It was a waiting season.  I had left childhood behind and was turning toward the future.  But, in the reality of my day to day, I was being crushed.  I was in my first serious battle with depression and life felt like it was taking me under.  My past was just that, past.  My future was unclear and my present was full of unknowns.

I was restless.

I had no answers.

What worked yesterday, was no longer an option.

And nothing had concretely opened before me.

I was waiting.

Not like the anticipation you feel when a baby is about to be born or your birthday party is about to start.  Not like standing at the mailbox waiting for the letter with a check.  Not Waiting-cause-something-good-is-on-the-way.  This was Hope-is-dead-and-I-don’t-know-what’s-coming-next kind of waiting.

Looking back now, I see that The Waiting {seemingly without hope} was a life-definer.

It was in that season of darkness that my faith simultaneously grew deep roots and wings.  It was in the waiting that I learned to rest in the midst of a storm.  It was in that season of waiting that I lost my way, made poor decisions and learned that I am not enough.  It was in that season that I learned that provision is made.

Even when I can’t tell what’s coming.

I know that tomorrow’s celebration is coming.  I am washing napkins, tucking “happys” into baskets and preparing for a family gathering.  But in my heart, I’m holding on to the darkness, because I know that depth and glory are found in waiting.

Our hearts are restless

By |2016-10-19T14:20:36-04:00April 23rd, 2011|Art is Life is Art|3 Comments

Behind the pages: What is the difference between Flee & Retreat?

Flee & Retreat

What is the difference between FLEE & Retreat?

{a page from the Pilgrim’s Progress Journal}

I know it’s been quiet here at wild thyme creative.  No, nothing wrong.  It is simply the quiet of dormancy and processing.  To be honest with you, I didn’t realize that I’d gone silent until a dear friend asked if I was okay.

I have not fled.

My windows are wide open.

open window

{When I want to run away or depression hounds me, the curtains are closed.}

No, this is a retreat.  An intentional pull back.  This quietude is simply part of a cycle.  A part of the reset that has to come after a huge influx of information.  The last few months have been incredibly rich with change and depth, matching the cycles in my garden.  There is huge growth happening under the surface; I can feel it about to burst and I’m preparing for it.

For the something coming.

There is needed change and a returning to old passions

There are insightful conversations and honest assessments

And there is no fear…

What is the difference between Flee and Retreat?

Flee is what you do when you run for your life from a predator.  When, for safety, you have to get away from something – by running as quickly as your adrenaline-laced muscles will take you.  A retreat, however, has intention and is to preserve life and find peace.  You can walk when you retreat…and breathe.

cherry blossoms

This current season of retreat is a lovely quiet with the soft sounds of birds singing, typing rhythms and pens scratching paper.  There are sketches and words.  Plans and confirmations.  There are new things coming, but they’re not here yet.  For now, I am immersed in peace & contemplation.  Visions and dreams are coming to fruition even as I bump into my awkward imperfections.  Imperfections that are perfect for the Lenten season with its invitation to enter into the wilderness with Christ.

I am learning to trust The Quiet – this season that doesn’t have much product, but is connecting me deeply to my true heart.

Speaking of returning… I’m back to lists.

I am not:

jumping through hoops

staying busy just to move

dwelling long on expectations or outside opinions

I am:

occasionally picking up my “real” camera

daily documenting with my phone camera {@wildthyme on instagram}

making honest pages

walking often

visiting the garden

listening to birds through open windows

writing daily

planting seeds

breathing all the way to the bottom

leaving my hands open

By |2016-10-19T14:20:37-04:00March 23rd, 2011|Behind the Pages, Journals|8 Comments