01 February 2013

Of January

So small stones are over...
I'm going to keep trying hard to blog at least a bit
of something every day or two.
I think it has served me well.
I hope it has you too, to some degree at least.

I was amazed at the messages I received last month via
Etsy and/or Facebook.
A lot of you shared some things with me.
Many reached out through the nothingness
to hold my hand. I didn't expect that,
though I don't know why it should surprise me still.

This community has, for the most part,
always been beyond lovely.
I'm honored to be a part of it.
It is for many reasons that I don't take it
(you) for granted.

This evening's shop update was over and done
in about ten minutes.
I'm blissfully tired and full in my heart.
Money has never terrified me as it does these days-
in truth, I've never had quite so many fears
as I hold now, but I can honestly say that
the assuaging of anxiety tonight was more thoroughly
felt than just the depth of this present moment.
I felt joy and satisfaction and peace and pride.
I felt a sense of self that seems to be growing
stickier. And stickier.

I can no longer shake me.
I no longer want to.
That's an incredible feeling.

While becoming more aware of the goodness here
amongst all of you, I can sense a certain shift
in my perspective on others,
a slight increase in the ability to see beyond and through
some of the surrounding people in my life.
These are hard truths and bittersweet,
and yet I would so rather learn them now
and save the offering of my heart for
someone with light in their eyes
and room in their chest.

What a fantastic January, then, wasn't it?
So much ground covered despite tiny steps.
I'm stumbling around in unsure circles,
but the confidence is building, 
and soon this dance will be defined and utterly mine.
And no, I don't believe I'll always dance alone.

I'm ready for the thaw.
I'm so ready for spring.
For long, warming, thick shafts of sunlight.
It's already happening within.

I want to thank you for your not-so-small part in that.

With love.  With so much gratitude.


  1. beams of light to go with the stones.

    1. Yes. I need a house of stone and light. ;)

  2. I've been out of the blog loop for a good long haul, but I want you to know I sat down and read "small stones" post by post like chapters of a book just now.
    Some thoughts:

    1. I adore you woman.
    2. You are as fierce as you are fragile ( and fragility is not a bad thing, I see it as an honest to goodness necessary human component) and this makes you one heck of a FORCE. How's that for some alliteration for you? Sometimes it's our sensitivity that gives us strength...
    3. Your collection of small stones has me wanting to blog again. To write and be bold, and raw, and ME. I'm not sure I can/will put it all out there, but it's sparked something in me. YOU, lady, have inspired me.
    4. The best thing my mother ever taught me was to cut loose bad relationships in my life. I've done it with friends, I've done it with ex's, I have done it with acquaintances. Life is too short to be weighed down by those who expect you to factor them into your life, but cannot offer the same courtesy. There is no bigger relief than dusting yourself off a happier stronger person because you were tough enough to be you best you, and deserve it.
    5. Have I mentioned I adore you? Yes? Just checking ;-)

    1. Dearest Jaime, this made me burst. We haven't talked in so long but I know we've skyped and discussed this whole issue- being "real" or only showing the highlights. People so easily take the real as complaining... It's hard to know where to draw the line. I certainly have no idea.

      I'm so glad you're here. I'm so glad you're happy... I adore you right back and think this will be a growth year for both of us.

      Much love.

    2. I miss our chit chats - perhaps a skype date soon, or maybe a good long letter? You know I agree who heartedly about real not always being taken the way we intend. The same way we can take snippets of peoples so-called blissful existence's and compare them to our own lives as if they are perfect. The beauty of the interwebs I suppose.
      Just know this, I found your take on the last month refreshing, honest and inspiring.
      Lots of love your way, too.

  3. I've got big mama tears in my eyes reading this: it pains me to think of you feeling discomfort and yet that is truly one of the biggest soul-wideners there is...I know your future is so stunningly bright. I believe SO fully in your hands and your path.

    1. I love you. Can I just come live out west? The Monkey likes tiny people. I like tiny people too.

      Thank you for being here, Sun. I have much catching up to do on my reset, and yet your general presence in my life tends to have that effect.


    2. Come live out West! Its a quickie plane trip from Vancouver down the coast... just sayin' ;-)

  4. yes. to it all.
    it's been such a blessing to be in the moment, alongside you. YOU. what a wonderful addition to my life you are.

    1. And you to mine. Cheers to us. Cheers to all of it. <3

  5. You know, I never garner very many comments when I blog. I don't really connect with very many people, it seems. But the ones that I have connected with seem to have become the "realer" friends in my life. (I know realer is not a word.)

    I admire the way you put yourself out there when you share with us. Every time I try to be real I tend to get twenty questions from my family (who all only read my blog in secret). I've never felt understood or appreciated by those seemingly closest to me. But I have found that in a few of my dear blogging friends. You are one of those. And I truly cherish those connections I have found with perfect strangers.

    I guess what I'm trying to say is....thanks for being who you are, Jess. Thanks for blogging and thanks for letting us be a part of your life.


  6. love and light
    aho sister