tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70119988275237106542024-03-13T04:55:11.699-07:00Soul Stitchingsoulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-49600765119788992312011-08-16T17:56:00.000-07:002011-08-16T17:57:08.769-07:00A poem I loveLove After Love
<br />
<br />
<br />The time will come
<br />when, with elation
<br />you will greet yourself arriving
<br />at your own door, in your own mirror
<br />and each will smile at the others welcome, and say, sit here. Eat
<br />You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
<br />Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
<br />to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored
<br />for another, who knows you by heart.
<br />Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate
<br />notes,
<br />peel your own image from the mirror.
<br />Sit. Feast on your life
<br />- Derek Walcott
<br />soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-71602277256128431222011-08-16T12:20:00.000-07:002011-08-16T12:20:34.620-07:00Today<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcRrAJINgm4/TkrDAZWyz0I/AAAAAAAAAMo/Y7LqOL6GKjs/s1600/IMG_0098-1.JPG'><img src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcRrAJINgm4/TkrDAZWyz0I/AAAAAAAAAMo/Y7LqOL6GKjs/s320/IMG_0098-1.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>
<br />
<br />Raising boys has to be one of the most interesting experiences I have ever had. What is beautiful is watching the slow and steady bond of brotherhood. The friendship, competition, protectition, love and aggression that my two boys have is amazing. I love that both of my boys have the biggest smiles, kindest eyes, strongest wills and sofest souls. They truly are a gift to me.
<br /><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-82553261532839964282011-08-02T06:14:00.000-07:002011-08-02T06:16:49.989-07:00Motherhood sorrowI thought it would be natural.<br />Drum. Drum. Drum.<br />That’s what they say these things are for.<br />I found out that aint true when it comes to you.<br />I tried. I tried. I tried.<br />I longed for the mercy of nursing you<br />I desired the intimacy,<br />The space that belonged to me and baby.<br />There was none. None. None.<br />Long episodes, sleepless nights as I tried.<br />Baby crying, crying, crying.<br />And My heart laid in my chest dying, dying, dying.<br />No one explained to me I couldn’t feed my baby.<br />No one told me the guilt, the shame, the pain.<br />And then to my horror, it wasn’t just my baby shouting at me-hungry<br />It was other mothers.<br />Why aren’t you breastfeeding?<br />Why don’t you try harder?<br />What are you doing wrong?<br />Breastfed babies are better.<br />I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.<br />My body wont produce milk. Take pills. Supplement.<br />Never a compliment. Supplement. Supplement. Maybe I will forget.<br />I would hold him, my baby boy, deep longing in my breasts, deep longing in my chest<br />And I would cry, tears falling on his face,as the milk of formula took my place<br />And my chest would heave and the sobs would come steady like a drum. Drum. Drum.<br />And I would come to believe I had failed you<br />Not because I did but because other cruel women weren’t careful in how they would say,<br />Why aren’t you breastfeeding your baby? It’s the best way !<br />And in my heart I would know if I could have I would have<br />I tried. I tried. I cried. I cried.<br />There is still a part of me that closes tightly when I speak of breastfeeding baby.<br />I still have that pang of self doubt, the guilt tucked away.<br />A mother’s guilt her secret scream because she couldnt produce milk <br />No one can understand the hurt that sits in your chest beating you like a <br />Drum. Drum. Drum. <br />But sometimes the hurt is the glue that keeps you from coming undone.<br />Drum. Drum,drum. Drum.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-29099648940782780172011-07-13T19:28:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:29:07.320-07:00Remembering<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0CUsknIouM/ThkOVz9GQwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/enN8qyYJar8/s1600/iphone%2Bpictures%2B111.JPG'><img src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0CUsknIouM/ThkOVz9GQwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/enN8qyYJar8/s320/iphone%2Bpictures%2B111.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Baby Ethan<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-89927828576811858042011-07-12T17:30:00.000-07:002011-07-12T17:30:00.952-07:00Metamorphosis<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:53921/cc19f57d0ecc2135f38940f7f347f4d2/image/960e8d22caa13608.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:53921/cc19f57d0ecc2135f38940f7f347f4d2/image/960e8d22caa13608.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />Metamorphosis<br /><br />Once she emerged there was no way to turn around, to run away, or to pretend she did not exist. <br />As she came all I could do was spread my wings and fly…….<br /><br />Tell me your secret…..<br />I cannot.<br />Why not?<br />Because they are buried too deeply…<br />Where is too deeply? <br />In my core.<br />In your core? That is central and not too deep at all.<br />You cannot understand the core of my being! <br />The depths of my soul. My immense yearnings, the longing, the losing of control.<br />So your core is the center of your being?<br />Yes, IT is!<br />It is a place where my soul rests<br />Or did you bury it there?<br />Why would you accuse me of the burial of my soul?<br />Because you wont dig.<br />I will DIG!<br />You wont journey.<br />I will Journey<br />You haven’t started<br />I did start!!<br />I danced….<br />And then you forgot<br />I sang ……<br />And then you tucked the pleasure away.<br />I painted….<br />Where is that painting?<br />That is irrelevant!<br />I am writing to you,<br />You are writing to you…<br />Okay, I see<br />Do you?<br />Can you?<br />I can, I promise<br />What do you see?<br />I imagine grace…<br />What type of Grace?<br />Fluid Grace….Breathable Grace….<br />Does this make you feel something deep inside?<br />It touches something, sparks something, it asks for space<br />How do you give grace space?<br />Surrender<br />And who do you surrender to?<br />God<br />And how is that accomplished?<br />Through faith<br />And what is faith?<br />Something that pulls from far, and beyond reality<br />Really? What is reality?<br />OHHH good one, I have yet to discover reality<br />Is there one?<br />I tend to doubt it<br />Then what do you fear? What do you fight, what hurts?<br />Life!<br />Life, I can’t believe you fear life. Isn’t it suppose to create the opposite?<br />Maybe joy.<br />Yes, life creating joy….I can believe it.<br />Do you believe it enough to have faith in it?<br />I am not sure.<br />Then you don’t believe it?<br />I do believe it, I want to believe it <br />Really do you want to believe it or does it just sound like something you want to believe in??<br />No, I want it too deeply, dangerously, loudly.<br />I want to believe<br />How do you feel now?<br />I am feeling better<br />Better as in how?<br />Better as in soothed<br />Soothed, I like it. Why soothed?<br />Because I feel an opening, a potential a longing a desire.<br /> I am seeing shifts, seeking abundance, and I am believing.<br />What is the believing you are doing? <br />I am being not doing…..<br />What are you being? <br />STILL<br /><br />Completely still, and then in this stillness I have heard the essence of the butterfly as she sings in expansion, in growth as she marries her purpose and takes flight in love.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-75978364961501549362011-07-10T17:34:00.000-07:002011-07-10T17:34:00.585-07:00Love each otherTake care to remember who you are even when it hurts to do so because it is in yourself that you will truly step into life......LOVE Loudly!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:53921/8e8fb2eb96697d535035eb8ce3670bf8/image/6ff23566ccb43760.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:53921/8e8fb2eb96697d535035eb8ce3670bf8/image/6ff23566ccb43760.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-85283967287600652952011-07-09T17:51:00.000-07:002011-07-09T17:56:39.100-07:00The Days of Summer<a href='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtMjlhuaJVQ/Thj3rUAnWpI/AAAAAAAAAJA/icxVTROgHoo/s1600/IMG_9864.JPG'><img src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtMjlhuaJVQ/Thj3rUAnWpI/AAAAAAAAAJA/icxVTROgHoo/s320/IMG_9864.JPG' border='0' alt=''style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;' /></a> <br /><br /><a href='http://localhost:53921/c351380805eb4b7c817066374c9e72b9/image/c32c6c2d065b4a2.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:53921/c351380805eb4b7c817066374c9e72b9/image/c32c6c2d065b4a2.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt=''style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;' /></a> <br /><br /><a href='http://localhost:53921/133efffb2abffa5b04360d8f17ed936f/image/162ec319c9ccf511.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:53921/133efffb2abffa5b04360d8f17ed936f/image/162ec319c9ccf511.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt=''style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;' /></a> <br /><br /><a href='http://localhost:53921/12f0b9045b8fb45070b5251f0151afba/image/1b95831db2091757.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:53921/12f0b9045b8fb45070b5251f0151afba/image/1b95831db2091757.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt=''style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;' /></a> <br /><br /><br />Children create their summertime, the way summertime creates the child.<div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-79513443220672775812011-07-04T13:22:00.000-07:002011-07-04T13:32:58.860-07:00First Plane Ride<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lTp2kyZFon4/ThIhIjYRPLI/AAAAAAAAAII/svb7ff9p2oI/s1600/photo.JPG'><img src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lTp2kyZFon4/ThIhIjYRPLI/AAAAAAAAAII/svb7ff9p2oI/s320/photo.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br /><br />We just got back from a trip to see Great Grandma in Long Island, New York. This trip is hard every time we do it but we always leave saying it was worth it. Great Grandma cherishes every moment. I think at her age she gets what a moment means and how fleeting it is. <br /><br />She is almost 90 but I wouldn't know it. She is so beautiful and still cooks the BEST eggplant parm. I have ever had. She is the grandma I no longer have. Every time we make the trip with all the obstacles its all forgotten when Great Grandma smiles.<br /><br />This trip marks a special event because it was Ethan's first flight. We got off to a rocky start but it was smooth sailing afterwards. Although, I won't lie it was a very short plane ride. He really enjoyed the noise of the propeller plane maybe its soothing. I didnt think so.<br /><br />What I did find out this weekend is children real value and thrive in their own environments and routines. The breaking of routine is something I need but I am not sure how the children feel about it. As excited as my four year old was, he sure did throw some good tantrums while we were a way.<br /><br />As for Ethan, he wouldnt eat and in his defense, no one had a high chair. UGH! However, we did it. We managed it all with a lot of screaming episodes at each transition period but as a team we conquered it. <br /><br />We made it and we are back!! Ethan is catching up on his sleep with a 4 hour nap and the rest of the household got naps in too. It has been an afternoon of well deserved recovery.<br /><br />I think the lesson I learned is sometimes you don't realize as a parent how great your routine runs. When you are running two children to daycare, jobs, dinner and maintaining life it can feel as though you aren't doing a good job. I think sometimes its good to move away from the daily just to see how great things are running. The in the moment daily life does feel routine to me and I often am hyper critical about my parenting, yet when I look at how well my life works, I have to take a moment and say good job mom! good job dad! <br /><br />We truly are rockstars, rocking it out in the name of parenthood. It sounds a little trivial to be super proud of a successful trip but I am. I am also super proud of the little life and family we are building. Its far from perfect but it works. <br /><br />At least, I can go to bed at the end of the day loving the organized chaos and thanking God for my beautiful boys. That is a true accomplishment. That to me, is a true marker of success!<br /><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-59821171168733398372011-06-16T12:06:00.000-07:002011-06-16T12:07:44.123-07:00SUNBEAM<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUcJ6hc4ebw/TfpUXbMP-8I/AAAAAAAAAHs/uf4NjmY2yuo/s1600/Ethan%2Bsmile.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUcJ6hc4ebw/TfpUXbMP-8I/AAAAAAAAAHs/uf4NjmY2yuo/s320/Ethan%2Bsmile.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618896246510975938" /></a><br /><br />We could all use a sunbeam in our life. I am blessed I have one.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-42670959742351176892011-06-14T12:30:00.000-07:002011-06-14T12:35:55.614-07:00Summer is Here<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qMdSMrcM-S4/Tfe3f4_ilWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/KlUxNnaVcjs/s1600/moth.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qMdSMrcM-S4/Tfe3f4_ilWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/KlUxNnaVcjs/s320/moth.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618160818670703970" /></a><br /><br />Surreal movement<br />Time remains still<br />Tiny dancer <br />Fancy wings <br />Couldn’t wait to see what summer brings......<br />Camera clouded<br />Insides awake<br />Heat churning<br />Refreshing Lakes<br />Standing useless<br />Void and free<br />Tumbled over<br />The bones of mesoulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-3150943091768193382011-06-08T07:04:00.000-07:002011-06-08T07:06:38.278-07:00Wordless Wednesday<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lDAPGWM4bI/Te-BytFhKrI/AAAAAAAAAG0/3GCBdipK9os/s1600/play.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lDAPGWM4bI/Te-BytFhKrI/AAAAAAAAAG0/3GCBdipK9os/s320/play.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615849968450480818" /></a>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-34990294659308518132011-05-26T10:23:00.000-07:002011-05-26T10:23:02.928-07:00Looking back<a href="http://www.veteranartist.com/Home/334">Looking back</a>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-57053958353144476662011-05-20T13:18:00.000-07:002011-05-20T13:24:30.804-07:00Handling my hands<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQjvepfXL1g/TdbM8U2AaoI/AAAAAAAAAGU/-zbdA3BTaes/s1600/fingers.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQjvepfXL1g/TdbM8U2AaoI/AAAAAAAAAGU/-zbdA3BTaes/s320/fingers.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608895722695977602" /></a><br /><br />Hand it over,<br />Hand it under,<br />I built this with my own hands<br />I am handy<br />My hands are rough<br />My hands are soft<br />Have I handed this in?<br />How have you handled that?<br />You underhanded me<br />You had the upper hand<br />My hands<br />Your hands<br />Big hands<br />Little hands<br />Man hands<br />Can you hand that in?<br />Can you take my hand?<br />Holding hands<br />Loving hands<br />You are handy<br />He is a handy man<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n24VOzUEolw/TdbM3u8bx8I/AAAAAAAAAGM/yL36-vrf7wc/s1600/hands%2Bethan%2Bdaddy.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n24VOzUEolw/TdbM3u8bx8I/AAAAAAAAAGM/yL36-vrf7wc/s320/hands%2Bethan%2Bdaddy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608895643802912706" /></a><br /><br />I love hands. They are significant for so many reasons and hand, fits beautifully into so many contexts. I noticed hands before children; but I experience hands after having children. My boy’s hands both look like their father’s hands and for some reason that comforts me. Lately, Luka reaches for my hand quite often and we walk holding hands. As a mother, the simple act of a child reaching up for my hand, brings me the deepest joy. <br /><br />Hand holding brings a sense of connection between two individuals that are distinctively different and it connects where there was a divide. The act of touching someone with your hands can evoke all types of emotions. It can comfort, it can hurt, it can love and it can hate.<br /><br />What amazes me about hands is that they have potential to connect us to another human being. They are also, what feeds us and what builds the world around us. Our hands perform so many duties,everyday and yet, do we experience them in our lives?<br /><br />I want to experience my hands! The added value in my life because of my hands is invaluable. I forget how much of our lives we spend using our hands. So, today I am thanking God for hands and I am feeling blessed for the little hands and the man hands in my family!soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-59880375926345954672011-05-18T07:17:00.000-07:002011-05-18T18:57:29.876-07:00Dear Luka<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HRfoa7mtw1A/TdPVF3ubz9I/AAAAAAAAAGE/gYYF7KZSh64/s1600/Luka.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HRfoa7mtw1A/TdPVF3ubz9I/AAAAAAAAAGE/gYYF7KZSh64/s320/Luka.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608060257841172434" /></a><br />Dear Luka,<br />I love that every time I get on Facebook or my blog and you see a picture of my book, you say, “Mommy that is your book!! Your book is on the computer!” I grin at this because I have always had the dream of writing the book and publishing it but I had never dreamed the way it would be a part of your life. That is important to me.<br /><br />I had a woman at the Festival of the Book in Charlottesville, VA approach me after my reading and say what a blessing this book will be for your children. I told her I already had 2 boys. That is when it dawned on me that you would in some way be affected by what I am doing now. My actions will encourage you to pursue many things that I can’t even conceptualize. <br /><br />Yesterday, as we were riding to school, you were talking about my reading in Charlottesville. You made the connection that I read my book in Charlottesville. As any good 4 year old, the questions continued, “Mommy, who was the man on the book “and “was he pretend”. I told you he wasn’t pretend. That perplexed you.<br />I have been talking to you a lot about military lately. I am trying to explain what our country is, that mommy and daddy fought in the military and who bad guys and good guys are. The explanations always fall short. I feel like I don’t even know at this point how to explain this and I realized I feel this way for many reasons. Who are the bad guys and the good guys in politics? There doesn’t seem to be a division anymore. <br /><br />What is war and why are we fighting it? What is the military and why do we have it? Why is Uncle Jonathan fighting the bad guys and why are ships called war ships? The questions you ask are legitimate and somewhere I fall short of giving you any clarifying answers. <br /><br />The hardest question has been, “Is the young boy on the cover pretend?” No. The next question, “Why not and who is he?” I fall silent, again and again. This young man died fighting to defend our country from the bad guys. That is the simple answer but it takes your innocence. Not that you would comprehend it but maybe you would and maybe it would shatter your innocence, I don’t think I can handle that-not yet!<br /><br />The complicated answer is that this young man lost his life fighting a war on terrorism. He was a hero. His mother is very sad. I have spoken with her and she has written beautiful words honoring him. His best friend captured this photo and made it one of my favorite pieces of art but it represents the lost of a best friend. This young man died before he was 25 and I really can’t describe the war we are in. Terrorism. That is what they say. However, I think when you are looking back; history is going to have a much deeper take on what is going on.<br /><br />So, the complicated answer takes away your innocence but it also breaks my heart. We as a nation are failing you and that hurts my heart. That is why I can’t describe the military and serving our country. That is why I can’t tell you what our Country means and the great things it is to so many people because I am heartbroken.<br /><br />Luka, mommy wrote her book to make a difference. She wrote her book to pay it forward and to recognize the great honor it is to be a warrior for our Nation. Mommy wrote her book to give back to a charity that is trying hard to help veterans meet their mental health needs. Mommy wrote her book because her passion is in some way saving the world. <br /><br />And now mommy realizes the scope of her actions and how they will help you become brave. It will be common to you to think that mommy’s write books and daddy’s crash cars. It will be common to you to reach out and help others. It will be common to you to do well and be a better person.<br /><br />Mommy knows that her success doesn’t dictate yours. I know you can go and do whatever you want. However, I do believe if mommy and daddy live their dreams and tell you you can live yours—YOU WILL have opportunities that many people never get. I love you. Your father loves you and I pray many blessings over you and the world you will touch. <br /><br />I have always known you will be a leader. You are a powerful, charismatic little man. My truest hopes are that you find this leadership and you use it to guide people to a higher purpose and that you always remain compassionate to others.<br /><br />I love you! I hope I answered some of your questions.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-75698506176441681182011-05-13T10:38:00.000-07:002011-05-13T10:44:46.261-07:00Framing Perception<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GnE3j9OQnT0/Tc1tQO6e67I/AAAAAAAAAF0/uQWJlxKYwtg/s1600/one%2Bflower.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GnE3j9OQnT0/Tc1tQO6e67I/AAAAAAAAAF0/uQWJlxKYwtg/s320/one%2Bflower.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606257236794862514" /></a><br /><br /><br />“What is powerful is the shift of perspective. What is cathartic is the embodiment of change. What is spiritual is living in the present moment. What is wonderful is the experience of deep joy.” CP<br /><br />Looking at this flower, I feel a deep moment of joy. My own perception and my lens of perspective focusing on what I found, most beautiful in that very moment. What amazes me about creation and the process of art full living is we all have a different lens to perceive from. <br /><br />I have been very interested in the perception I hold, versus the perception others <br />see. Is my perspective of who I am, something that can translate, to who others see me as? Am I living in my moment of joy and inspiring others, or have a created a perception that is only my perspective of me? I guess I am wondering have I boxed myself into an image and disallowed others perceptions based on fear or pride. <br />I know that my perception leads to my own perspective and it is individual. However, I am beginning to believe that living in a place of humility and authenticity creates joy. <br /><br />When you are in that place of humility, authenticity and joy, I think you shape a perception that is open ended, symmetrical and beautiful. Its in this place, you allow others the space to create an artistic response to the artist you are in your OWN life. Your creative life threads to those around you and your ability to create an authentic life gifts others the ability to perceive the creative life you are living.<br /><br />I guess what my thought is: If I am not living authentically, humbly and spiritually, those who meet me will see me in a lens that may reflect a perception that isn’t my highest potential. I have to be careful that I don’t box myself in with my own perceptions and perspectives. Imagine the responsibility, we all have –to live in a place of authentic joy, so, others may be able to create a perception that gives them room to see things in a new perspective, thanks to our authentic living. This way of living, also insures that our own selves aren’t getting caught in a self made perception trap. <br /><br />When people live from a place of joy, they surrender to their own humble truths and create a path of authenticity that others want to follow. In the following, others find their own paths, create the same joy and the cycle begins again. We are in it together. Your story and perspective help create my story and perspective. When we begin to realize the importance of the connection in our personal stories, I believe we will begin to live, share and validate the ways we were meant to!!soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-30935945985084013842011-05-11T06:38:00.000-07:002011-05-11T08:17:36.810-07:00Girlfriend Guide<a href="http://www.veteranartist.com/Home/291">Girlfriend Guide</a> Please take a minute to read about a blog that I am featured in. The Girlfriend Guide is a beautiful testament to friendship and what true friendship is. I hope it resonates with you, as much as it did with me. The blog is written by my bestfriend and is a wonderful place of sharing. The Girlfriend Guide is only one section of the blog and a section I love!! I dont think we recognize our friends enough and how much meaning they have in our lives and who we are. Thank you, Olivia for inspiring me to write, be a better person, live my dreams, dance and move as a woman should--WITH GRACE!! You are what friendship is and you are a blessing in my life. <a href="http://soulsingingliv.blogspot.com/2011/05/girlfriend-guide-charlie.html"></a>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-28370919779044826372011-05-10T06:33:00.000-07:002011-05-10T06:39:59.192-07:00Allowing myself the spaceI guess I am coming back here to find a space to create my thoughts. Not that this is the safest space or the best space but it feels like a good idea. I have followed my BFF's blog and I have thought about starting this up again. Thanks Liv!! I already have a website and that is a place for my activism in the veteran community. I feel like ramblings arent the same status as my veteran website. So, here I go slowly finding my way threw blogsphere.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-40896246346739594932009-04-08T17:19:00.000-07:002009-04-08T17:26:24.255-07:00Free FlowI thought I would just sit here and let it go...I am not sure and I do not proclaim to know....I only think I ought to start somewhere....going.....falling....believing.<br />This is not where I began. I didnt think I would begin where it felt like the end.<br />I cant say that I ever thought this far. Not really. I think I thought I would stay in the heart of yesterday....maybe because there was something known instead of the fear of the unknown. I sit in the midst of the words, the talents, the images, and I think...I thought, I hoped, I wanted, I dreamed, I did, and I didnt. Did I miss it? Was I awake....did I gravitate? Can I be back there in her, with her, by her? Or is it too late? I am near....I am calling....Crystal lens....distance falling.....Cooperate dear heart. Tell me where and when to start. Battle cry...I feel as if I could die. Cherish him, in our lullaby...sweet baby rest your soul....rest your fear....breathe deeply and conquer all that is near.Charlie P~soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-13838836018662406562009-03-24T07:28:00.000-07:002009-03-24T07:29:39.521-07:00<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CADMINI%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CADMINI%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CADMINI%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> 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<style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Once she emerged there was no way to turn around, to run away, or to pretend she did not exist.<span style=""> </span>As she came all I could do was open my wings fully and FLY…….</p> soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-89187484075841502832009-03-24T07:26:00.000-07:002009-03-24T07:26:24.892-07:00<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtjNDabGI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-DJZfMkazV0/s1600-h/100_7910.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtjNDabGI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-DJZfMkazV0/s320/100_7910.JPG" /></a> </div>The rusted watering pot had DREAMER written on the side of it. This watering can spoke loudly to my soul. There was something strange and beautiful in its message. I believe I am a DREAMER and I believe that I have been holding a can of my dreams for years. The can is rusted with ambition, with fears, with sorrows, with happiness, and with years. I dream! I dream! And I dream!<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtjK5ncwI/AAAAAAAAAFM/Zblx6LHpj8A/s1600-h/100_7913.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtjK5ncwI/AAAAAAAAAFM/Zblx6LHpj8A/s320/100_7913.JPG" /></a> </div>I know that if I fill my can up it has the potential to make life flourish and create birth. I love that feeling. That the dreams that have been contained in my rusted can will be full enough to spill over and nourish growth of the next season. I can hardly contain them any longer!!<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjtj1mVVdI/AAAAAAAAAFU/husXEShk_aA/s1600-h/100_7933.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjtj1mVVdI/AAAAAAAAAFU/husXEShk_aA/s320/100_7933.JPG" /></a> </div>I love the idea of rust. Maybe because it is raw and shows signs of truly weathering life. I believe its the weathering that makes us appear beautiful even in our imperfections.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtkEY9LbI/AAAAAAAAAFc/eQDbAcRYNFI/s1600-h/100_7934.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScjtkEY9LbI/AAAAAAAAAFc/eQDbAcRYNFI/s320/100_7934.JPG" /></a> </div><br />And OF course CHEESE! My little man in all his wonder continues to encourage me to see the world through the eyes of an innocent soul. he encourages me to laugh when life says you cant laugh, prop your feet up in all the wrong places, and talk loudly because you are proud of what you are saying......Thank you Luka --Thank you!!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-71124702582149250502009-03-24T07:14:00.000-07:002009-03-24T07:15:18.042-07:00<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq8NLMtKI/AAAAAAAAAEk/y1TrEA5EI7A/s1600-h/100_7881.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq8NLMtKI/AAAAAAAAAEk/y1TrEA5EI7A/s320/100_7881.JPG" /></a><br />I was in PA this weekend and I was drawn to the aftermath of winter.<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq87KuW3I/AAAAAAAAAEs/zD-mYcNSy4Q/s1600-h/100_7897.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq87KuW3I/AAAAAAAAAEs/zD-mYcNSy4Q/s320/100_7897.JPG" /></a> </div>Everything was still barren and the garden was yet to be in bloom but I felt strangely attracted the sensations I felt. I welcomed the sunshine. I loved the imperfection of the rust, the dead leaves, the random signs that a garden once lived here and that it will once again live here!<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq9Ow202I/AAAAAAAAAE0/83scD94Si98/s1600-h/100_7902.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq9Ow202I/AAAAAAAAAE0/83scD94Si98/s320/100_7902.JPG" /></a> </div>I felt as if I connected with this moment. The emerging of spring is around the corner and I know that in a few days or weeks everything will be in full bloom. The rust will be cleaned off, the lights put back correctly, everything that had tumbled over will be picked back up, and life will be springing from every corner.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq9Y86A_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/nw1-mOaVuJg/s1600-h/100_7909.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Scjq9Y86A_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/nw1-mOaVuJg/s320/100_7909.JPG" /></a> </div><br />But there was something simply beautiful about the remains of winter. Maybe its that feeling of death and the beginning or rebirth. I dont know. I just know that those items scattered around the yard made me feel at home. They called to me. They told me the story of a long winter and they smiled at thought of what was about to spring up.<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-53149733619468671592009-03-19T10:42:00.000-07:002009-03-19T10:47:05.130-07:00I am burstingI am bursting at the seams with these ideas. I have to completely settle myself and start the process of mapping....I want to say soul mapping. I am one of those individuals who has a very hard time taking the baby steps that are needed becasue I get overwhelmed. Goals overwhelm me. Dates, deadlines, commitment, I get over excited. Its not nervous but it is nervous energy and without proper channeling it is almost always lost in outer space. But maybe not. I think that some energy does come find you again. Maybe when you are more able to handle what it has to bring. I do not know. I just know that if I can sit with my ideas, make room for my ideas, create the space to move them forward, actually commit (AHHHAH I said the word) and then contiue to follow through without feeling the overwhelming alarming pressures of a finished product. I will be so at peace. I have felt my heart scream what it must do. I have felt my soul be called to who it must work with and what it must accomplish....I have no clue how to do it, when it will happen, or what it will end up as. And this is where I am having a hard time letting go. Let me be honest. The hardest part is the letting go and the opening of the soul to receive. May I do just this.....at least I feel better for putting all my energy in these words.soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-25750524156147962572009-03-17T14:24:00.000-07:002009-03-17T14:25:24.486-07:00<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVP3ZUFeI/AAAAAAAAADs/iguFSxSCQnE/s1600-h/100_7873.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVP3ZUFeI/AAAAAAAAADs/iguFSxSCQnE/s320/100_7873.JPG" /></a> </div>Perception is the individual choice to view what you see as beautiful......<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVQmKq5bI/AAAAAAAAAD0/2FUxhFZw5u0/s1600-h/100_7867.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVQmKq5bI/AAAAAAAAAD0/2FUxhFZw5u0/s320/100_7867.JPG" /></a> </div>Change takes place when you are willing to percieve all things as beautiful...............<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVRDPBDyI/AAAAAAAAAD8/xggB0XpZAQE/s1600-h/100_7870.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/ScAVRDPBDyI/AAAAAAAAAD8/xggB0XpZAQE/s320/100_7870.JPG" /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-71007442444206057902009-03-17T07:43:00.000-07:002009-03-17T07:45:52.523-07:00Oh to love the Art<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-3LCp4Z1I/AAAAAAAAAC4/H6S1wDhxfyo/s1600-h/100_7853.JPG"><img alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-3LCp4Z1I/AAAAAAAAAC4/H6S1wDhxfyo/s320/100_7853.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div>If Love is the key to surrender and art is the door to love.....Then it would seem when you unlock the door you ultimately surrender your art to love and your love to your art.......cp......<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-3LBqM5SI/AAAAAAAAADA/IS01MsGDQiA/s1600-h/100_7850.JPG"><img alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-3LBqM5SI/AAAAAAAAADA/IS01MsGDQiA/s320/100_7850.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011998827523710654.post-67767199045888448942009-03-17T07:37:00.000-07:002009-03-17T07:44:33.483-07:00A gift from my husband<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-10F8d6jI/AAAAAAAAACQ/n176uNhNVmY/s1600-h/100_7847.JPG"><img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-10F8d6jI/AAAAAAAAACQ/n176uNhNVmY/s320/100_7847.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div> It is in the garden of lovers' secrets that love blossoms. The color of growth beating on their hearts<br /> The loud beauty of their wild, mysterious souls a flower that they will only know. ~Cp~<br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-10VgW8eI/AAAAAAAAACY/ZQkbXk8KRKQ/s1600-h/100_7853.JPG"></a> </div><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-10XePfoI/AAAAAAAAACg/ryPgzhLLsYA/s1600-h/100_7861.JPG"></a> </div><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aUTykqS8k2o/Sb-10sl93hI/AAAAAAAAACo/9YygfrT-Lik/s1600-h/100_7860.JPG"></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>soulstitchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07412660786649917374noreply@blogger.com2