Becoming Poem

I selected a new creative activity today, after another break yesterday so I could write a Father’s Day post. When I unfolded the slip of paper I muttered “Oh boy”.  Not an excited “Yay I get to do this one,” oh boy. More of a “Why did I include this activity?” oh boy. 

I drew:

Write a short poem. 


I knew this one would challenge me. Although I have fun writing haiku, it’s been years since I wrote a poem. I added this creative action to push myself, to grow in my creativity. As I stared at the slip of paper, I wondered if I had made a mistake. At least I said a short poem. 

I wrote my early poetry around inspired thoughts. A line or two would come into my mind and I’d let inspiration flow. My last poem, written 16 years, was crafted around the thought, She stepped into eternity, hand in hand with God, immediately after my grandmother passed away. That poem was read at her funeral. 

I knew staring at a blank piece of paper, attempting to force inspiration, would not work for me. So I asked for inspiration to come. I truly did want to fire this arrow, timidly perhaps, but I chose to follow through with this action. In my Morning Pages, I wrote: 

I can always do a haiku or two, if I have to. For longer poems I need a line to inspire me, something to start the creative process. So I’m open to inspiration. I’m open to receive. I’m open…

And I went about my day, refusing to overthink the creative action. In fact, I pushed the activity away completely. But I stayed open…and receptive to inspiration. 

As I walked to my car, mid-afternoon, to run an errand, inspiration suddenly struck. The first two lines of a poem came fully formed into my mind. Before I drove away, I typed the lines out in the Notes section on my iPhone. 

I have learned to jot it down immediately when an idea or inspired thought arrives. While it is still so fresh, inspiration is fleeting. I won’t remember it later, accurately. 

By the time I parked at my destination, inspiration was flowing freely. I captured more of the poem, as it was forming, and completed it when I arrived home. 


I am very pleased with the poem, which reflects my  journey during the last decade, a journey that went inward before it manifested outwardly. And as a gardener, I love the reference to a flower. This little poem captures well who I am becoming. 

What I am most pleased about is that I rose to this creative challenge by opening myself up to receive inspiration. I had a choice between closing, and saying I couldn’t do it…or opening to see what would happen next. This became another arrow of desire that drew me beyond myself and what I thought was possible. 

I created a meme of my poem, using the WordSwag app and a little extra creative effort. In spite of my initial reaction, I’m so glad that I dropped that creative action into my glass pitcher. And I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn more about how inspiration comes to me. I’m remaining open. 

I am becoming. 

Lessons from My Fathers 

On this Father’s Day, my sister Linda and I had the opportunity to take our stepdad Walter and our Mom out to lunch, in honor of the day.  We enjoyed the buffet at Golden Corral and fun conversation. I also thought about my dad, who passed away six years ago, and the other amazing men who have contributed to my life by fathering me. 


I’m at that point in my life where all of my father figures, except for Walter, have transitioned into the next life. My stepfather stepped into a large family when he married my mom and he has been a quiet strength in my life. I’ve watched him as he has traveled around the world with my mom, feeding my interest in traveling. And I’ve observed how he takes very good care of himself, going to the Y frequently to work out, and staying active in church and volunteer work. Walter is in his 80s and he’s the most fit man that I know in that age bracket. He inspires me to take care of myself so that I can enjoy life to the utmost. 



I lost both of my grandfathers long ago. I never actually got to meet my maternal grandpa, as he died in a truck accident when my mother was very young. However, I have felt a connection to Papaw Bill since I was a toddler. I believe he watches over me, as my protector in spirit. I’ve learned from him that love and family endures, even beyond death. 

My paternal grandfather died when I was five years old. I have a few treasured memories of sitting in his lap, watching his face as he talked. I loved hanging out with him in his garage. He tinkered on cars and I played with scraps of wood, engaging my imagination as I clumsily fastened them together. Poopaw taught me to give my creativity free reign. 

My maternal grandmother remarried and Pop was the grandfather that I grew up with. He was quiet but fun, a man who worked hard, listened to country and western music and loved his garden. I learned about tending to plants from Pop, and acquired my gift for puttering from him. 



My stepfather Max was an important part of my life, from my 16th year until he passed away 11 years ago. It takes courage and patience to be a stepparent, and Max exhibited both, after a brief time of adjustment for all of us. I watched as my stepdad created businesses and sold them. I have never personally known anyone who so fearlessly, and successfully, bought, improved and sold a variety of ventures. He was a wonderful Papa to my children. From Max I learned to go after what I wanted and entrepreneurial skills. 


Bob Moore became a part of my life shortly after Max did. As my father-in-law, he welcomed me into his family, the daughter he never had. He was always kind and generous to me, good natured and funny. He loved his grandchildren and spent time with them. From Dad Moore I learned to clean the fish I caught and fry them up, to trust while he deftly flew an airplane through all kinds of weather, and to make awesome peanut brittle. I never saw this man get angry. He taught me to go with the flow and to not sweat the small stuff. 


Curt was my dad. He left us six years ago…way too soon…after a valiant battle with cancer. My father was a fun and charming man. He worked hard his whole adult life and earned success and respect as a result. Although my parents divorced when I was nine, they maintained a good relationship for the sake of their daughters. My dad remained an active part of my life, teaching me many things, primarily by example. He was compassionate to animals. He loved to ride his motorcycle. He helped others. 

When my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, fear clenched my heart. I knew how my dad’s story was going to end. During the last two years of his life, I learned the most from my dad, as I watched him live life to the fullest, until there was none left to live. He remained optimistic and upbeat, loving and funny. He did the things he wanted to do. Before he died, I had the pleasure of telling my dad how much I appreciated him, and that I knew he had always done the best parenting that he could, where he was in his journey, with what he knew. My only regret with my dad is that I didn’t call him every single night, just to chat. I miss hearing his voice and his laugh. 

I am grateful for each of these men. All gave me gifts from their hearts and lives and I cherish them and the lessons they taught. 

Clarence B. Kelland said, “My father didn’t tell me how to live. He lived, and let me watch him do it.”

That sums up all the fathers and grandfathers I’ve had in my life. They’ve lived as examples before me, for varying amounts of time. Papaw Bill’s life was shared by way of the stories his family told me about him. They all lived their lives well, and because of them, I do as well. Happy Father’s Day Dad, Max, Walter, Dad Moore, Papaw, Poopaw and Pop. I love you. And I thank you. 

The Soul That Sees Beauty

As I was getting ready for the day, I put my walking shoes on. I just knew I was going to draw a creative activity that involved walking. As I’ve moved into the second half of the month, with 13 folded slips of paper left, I also knew there were still two walking activities in the pitcher. 

I drew this action:

Walk near water. 


It was a beautiful day for this activity. It’s been hot and humid this past week, but today was slightly cooler, less sticky, with a refreshing breeze. After working in the garden for a bit this morning, I headed to Wildcat Park this afternoon, to walk along Shoal Creek. 



I parked in my usual spot at the park, but instead of heading into the woods, I walked west along the paved trail that parallels the river. I do love being near water. The path was shaded and the walking easy. The breeze kept me cool and whipped my long hair into a frenzy. 

I ended up near low water bridge, where I walked this past January, at the beginning of this year of surrender. The only available picnic table was baking in the full sun, but I was okay with that, and sat with my legs stretched out, watching the river roll by. This was the spot where I took a selfie last January, as I gazed at the river, a stocking cap on my head. I snapped another pic, from the left instead of the right, my eyes once again drawn to the rippling water. In spite of the number of people playing in and near Shoal Creek, it was incredibly peaceful and beautiful there. 

It was as I was walking back the way I had come, that I realized no one else was using the trail. I could hear people splashing and laughing in the river. Families gathered around picnic tables in the designated areas. And there was the distant and incessant drone of traffic over a high bridge. But I walked alone along the river. 

My arrow of desire that I had launched drew my attention to how I felt about walking alone. I recognized the parallels between my afternoon stroll and my current journey. A few years ago I could not be alone, in any way, even though I am at heart a loner. I was too afraid. I was not present enough with myself. I felt scared and lonely if I didn’t have someone nearby. 


How differently I journey now. I am not afraid. I am very present with myself, aware of being drawn and guided, and of this delightful ongoing conversation with the Divine. If others choose to journey alongside me for a time, I am fine with that, and grateful. If I find myself walking alone, as I did today, I am fine with that, and grateful. 

During these times of solitary journeying, whether I’m walking beside the river or walking through life, I become much more attuned to what my heart and soul are experiencing and the beauty that surrounds me. I can go deep within, and then expand outward, noticing the turtles sunning on a log, the sound of birds singing in the trees, the musty scent of a fallen, decaying tree. I can sense the energy of all living things swirling around me. 



I left Wildcat Park feeling quiet joy. The water and the beauty of nature had cleansed away the busyness of the past week and allowed me a glimpse of how far I’ve journeyed in the past five years. 

At home again, as I checked my Facebook newsfeed, I saw a quote that confirmed the experience I had just had. 

“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Those words were perfectly in alignment with my thoughts as I walked along the river. May sometimes walk alone…may sometimes walk with others, and either is fine. I’m surrendered to being open…and attached to nothing. 

No Airing of Dirty Laundry Here

I laughed as I drew today’s creative action. Apparently if I’m going to show some love to the most overlooked room in my house…the bathroom…I need to be fair and pay attention to the second most overlooked room in the house. 

I drew this slip of paper: 

Buy rug for the utility room. 


The utility room, also called the laundry room, is where the washer and dryer reside. As a realtor, I see all kinds of laundry rooms, from closets off of the hallway with a washer and dryer tucked inside, to spacious, elaborate rooms outfitted with the latest digital models, utility sinks, folding tables and an abundance of storage. 

My utility room was an afterthought in this old house of mine. A small back porch was converted into a very makeshift laundry space. Greg made the room more permanent looking after we purchased the house. Although it functions just fine, it still has the feel of a porch, with its concrete floor and door cut to fit the smaller than normal exterior opening. 

I’ve recently decluttered the room, tossing out plastic flower pots and an old vacuum cleaner that has been sitting in the corner for years. I added this simple creative action for the same reason that I included one for the bathroom…to prompt me to extend my creativity into these overlooked rooms. 


Back to Tuesday Morning I went today, when I had a few free minutes. Inspiration struck as I parked the car, and I entered the store knowing what color scheme I was going for. I wanted a small rug to cover the concrete floor and one to drape over the top of my serviceable but worn dryer. The two rugs above were very close to what I was looking for…until I read the label on the green, gray and black one. Dry clean only. 

My utility room leads out into the backyard, where my garden is. I need a rug I can toss into the washer after I’ve tracked dirt onto it. A rug that requires dry cleaning was not a good option. I turned to another table full of rugs, and there it was, the one I was searching for. Not only was the rug gray and white in color, it was washable! Immediately behind me I found a single metal basket on the shelf. I had carried a mental image of just such a basket into the store with me. I made my purchase, happy with my finds. 


Looking up laundry rooms, I discovered that people don’t appear to dream about them like they do bathrooms. There’s the obvious symbolism of cleansing and purification, and a connection to the expression, “airing dirty laundry”, which is the practice of making private personal matters public. However, I was not drawn in that direction. 

My arrow of desire led me instead to thinking about inspiration and how I receive it. Looking up the word, I liked this definition: 

The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative. A sudden brilliant, creative, or timely idea.

In its earliest translation, inspiration literally meant Divine guidance. 

I embrace those definitions. Inspiration often comes upon me suddenly, and it is always connected to my creativity. I realized a few years ago that I receive inspiration as a visual download. As I sat in front of a flea market, thinking about a trunk I was about to create my first vignette in, I suddenly received a pictorial list of items, mentally: large metal stars, a rusty star garland, several sizes of green artificial Christmas trees, a pillow, and a vintage gas can. I found each of those items, exactly as I pictured them, within the flea market. 

Today, as I parked my car in front of Tuesday Morning, I received an inspirational download, just as I did a few days ago when I purchased the shower curtain and towels for bathroom: two gray and white rugs, a square metal basket. And I found those items, quickly. 

I can’t explain why inspiration comes to me in this way. I just accept that it does. And I act upon it. It is extremely important that I am faithful to take action on what I receive. I am showing that I am willing to be a receptacle for inspiration and that I desire to do something with what I receive. Could I choose something other than what I am shown? Certainly. But are the images that I receive perfect for what I desire to do, and are they available as I search? Absolutely. The process becomes a game, a scavenger hunt, a Divine dance. 

These thoughts were much more uplifting and encouraging than thinking about airing dirty laundry. That is a practice I don’t engage in. Rather, I choose inspiration, Divine guidance, creativity, the dance. Even when it involves choosing a new rug for my utility room. 

The Hedgehog

This was an exciting day, with a twinge of sadness, as the Arkansas house chapter concluded. Greg closed on his parents’ home and we drove away from there, knowing we would not see it again. This evening I returned to drawing a creative action from my glass pitcher, after taking a break yesterday so I could celebrate my grandson with a birthday post. 

Late in the day, I drew this activity: 

Color whimsical animal in EF. 

Again, the perfect arrow to fire after another long day. I was delighted. 

EF stands for Enchanted Forest, a coloring book by Johanna Basford. Within the book are whimsical animals and scenes from the forest. I so enjoyed coloring one of the animals recently, a rabbit, that I looked forward to completing another one. I chose the hedgehog. 

The first whimsical creature that I colored. 

I love these creatures! They are animals morphing into leaves. Or at least, that’s how I viewed them originally. As I colored on the hedgehog tonight, my perspective shifted. I saw that it could be that the enchanted plants in this magical forest may be transitioning into animals! 

Coloring is meditative for me. It slows me down, centers me, restores balance. As I completed my little hedgehog, I felt rested, as if I had taken a nap. My thoughts turned toward the creative activities I’ve drawn this past week, seemingly at random, and I saw the perfection in my journey. 

 Rilynn photo bombs the pic as she checks out my coloring. 

Many of the creative activities that I wrote out and dropped into the pitcher require time to carry out. Although they are intended to be completed within the day, some could take several hours to finish or may necessitate leaving the house. I have already marveled at drawing a rainy day activity on a day when rain was falling. Or selecting one that required me to give away items as we were preparing for a yard sale. 

To draw the coloring activity this evening, so late in the day, amazed me and deeply touched me. I see everything that comes into my life as an ongoing conversation with the Divine. Drawing activities that so perfectly align with the amount of time I have to do them, and the physical ability that I have at that moment to perform them, is part of that conversation. 

The Divine is saying to me, through these simple playful activities written on folded slips of paper, “I see you. I’m aware of you. I’m aware of the day you are having/will have/had. Will you trust me?” 

I answer “I do…” every time I reach into that pitcher, to see what I will draw.  When I began this month this was a creative exercise, something fun to do. I have learned so much about my journey, and how life works for me. I feel humbled and grateful for this time of surrender. It has raised my awareness and deepened my trust. 

This little hedgehog, who is becoming something more as he journeys, became my symbol tonight for this amazing month. Every time I look at him, I will think about what I am learning and who I am becoming as I journey. I named my hedgehog Junebug. 

Happy Birthday Joey

Today is the birthday of my grandson Joey. He spent the day with his family and his best friend, having some fun in the sun at a nearby river. I had the privilege of having one on one time and celebrating with this handsome young man yesterday. 



We kicked off Joey’s birthday with a first for both of us, dinner at the newly opened Chili’s in Joplin. We have dined in this restaurant before, but never together or in the Joplin location. While we waited for our meals to arrive, Joey and I had fun playing Life on the table’s player. This is smart marketing on Chili’s part and a great way to pass the time. We laughed and talked as we took turns spinning the electronic wheel and watching to see what Life presented us with. Joey ended up with a car full of daughters! I’ve always loved this board game and Joey and I determined to play another round soon. 


I had so much fun at Christmas time, taking each grandchild out for dinner and shopping, that I began a new birthday tradition this year. I’m taking each child out again for dinner and shopping, except this time, they get to spend their allotted cash on themselves, rather than on others. The kids choose which store they want to shop in, or they can pocket the cash. 

Joey chose Toys R Us as his destination. I enjoyed walking alongside him as he carefully deliberated, talking through his options. It didn’t take long for him to zero in on a modular Nerf gun that can be assembled in a multitude of ways. Joey’s eyes lit up as he returned again and again to look over that Nerf gun. 

Joey, Aubrey and Oliver. 

I looked up Joey’s name: 

Joey, you are honest, benevolent, brilliant and often inventive, full of inspiration. You are courageous, honest, determined, original and creative. You are a leader, especially for a cause. Sometimes you do not care to finish what you start, and may leave details to others. You do well in positions of authority, and you will prosper in intellectual and professional fields. You are frank, methodical and believe in law, system and order.

You are always looking for a chance to do your own thing, to be your own person, and to have things done your own way.

These words describe my bright grandson well. He’s the oldest child in his family, and leadership suits him. He is inventive and creative. We have spent time sketching together. I love looking through his art portfolio at the many drawings he has done. Joey isn’t afraid to attempt sketching anything, and I appreciate his confidence. 


I’ve watched this past year as Joey has grown into a young man. He had a great school year and football season, as he matured in every way. He enters a new school this fall, leaving elementary school behind. Joey thinks deeply and enjoys a good conversation. He always asks me how I am and wants to know what I’ve been enjoying. 

As I drove him home last night, I realized just how close he’s getting to his teen years. We had an amazing and deep conversation, about who he is and who he is becoming, and about his role as the older brother. For the first time, Joey and I discussed energy and what it means to be empathic and how to shake off negative energy. He is an intelligent young man. He nodded in understanding as we discussed life and the journey and he asked great questions. When he shared some of his own observations about life and people, my heart swelled with love and pride. He is growing up. 

The last section above, about Joey’s characteristics, is what I see him becoming so beautifully…one who looks for the chance to do his own thing, in his own way, as he is being totally who he is. He shines, as brightly as those expressive brown eyes of his. Happy birthday Joey. I love you!

The Most Overlooked Room in My House

I confess that I was strangely excited to draw this creative action today. I only have three activities that involve buying items for my house or garden. Shopping is not something I enjoy or engage in often, unless it involves buying gifts for my family. So I wasn’t sure why I included activities that required purchasing an item, but I got some insight on that today. 

I drew this slip of paper:

Buy a new shower curtain. 


Yes! Even I was a bit bemused by my reaction, but I looked forward to picking out a new shower curtain nonetheless. It was a busy day, however I took advantage of a 30 minute lull to stop by one of my favorite stores, Tuesday Morning. This shop receives close outs and overruns, every Tuesday morning, and sells them at deeply discounted prices. 

Although I was open to suggestion, I had a particular color in mind for this shower curtain. I tend to use earthy colors in my home…beige, rust, green, yellow, red…fall colors primarily. My bathroom is tiny. My house is old, built in the late 1800s. Bathrooms were not the spacious rooms then that they are in today’s newer homes. Because this small space has just enough room for the essential fixtures, I’ve used very neutral colors to help visually expand the area. 

I’m ready for a change in the bathroom, for a pop of color that makes me smile and refreshes me, while not screaming at me. The walls are painted a color called Bay Sand, which, depending on the light, can look beige, grey or pale green. The trim is bright white. 

As I stood before the selection of shower curtains in Tuesday Morning, I didn’t see the color I wanted. I had hoped for a medium turquoise or an aqua blue. I was considering between two other possibilities when I noticed  packaged curtains strewn across the bottom shelf. Digging through those, I find my curtain, the only one that was the color I desired. It was hiding from everyone else, waiting for me to claim it. 

I picked up a few hand towels and bath towels, to carry out this color change in the bathroom, along with a new rug for the floor. I left Tueday Morning very happy with my finds. 

The creative activity done, I followed this arrow of desire, to see where it led. I realized that there are two rooms in my house that I don’t really like. One is the bathroom. It’s so small, with no storage, and two doors eating up wall space. There’s a great deal of charm in my old home and many things that I love about it. But that love doesn’t extend to the bathroom. I’ve neglected it, creatively. It’s time to show it some love. 

I felt compelled to look up the symbolism for “bathroom”, which led me to interpretations for dreams about needing or using a bathroom. Interestingly, some of our silly dreams about using a toilet that’s out in the open or not being able to find a bathroom when we need one, reveal truths about ourselves. Needing a bathroom and not finding it indicates a need to eliminate distractions and pressures from life, or that you’ve postponed your own wishes for too long. It can also mean you are unable to get rid of a problem. 

Using a toilet that’s out in the open, with no stall or walls even, is symbolic of not having enough privacy or alone time. Or it can indicate that something that is very private and personal is being exposed. On the other hand, using a toilet while no privacy is offered, and not being bothered by that in your dream suggests you are a confident person with nothing to hide. 

I feel a new sense of respect for my tiny, overlooked bathroom…respect that could blossom into love. I’m excited to begin the transformation and find ways to express my creativity here without overpowering the room. 

Now I anticipate drawing the slip of paper that relates to the other unloved room in my house. I wonder what I will discover about my utility room? 

From Tray to Wall Hanging

Now that the house in Arkansas is mostly emptied and the big sale is history, it is time to sort through the mementos that I’ve decided to keep. I don’t like to shut an interesting item away in a closet where I can’t  see it and enjoy it, so I attempt to integrate these treasures into my décor. 

Today the slip of paper that I drew was a gentle nudge to put my creative cap on and get started. I selected:

Use a vintage item in a new way. 

 

I have boxes of vintage items in my house at the moment! This afternoon, it became a question of which vintage item to repurpose. It didn’t take me long to settle on a wonderful old metal lap tray. Originally manufactured in the 1970s, Greg found this exact same tray in an Etsy shop online priced at $42. 

I uncovered four of these beauties. Both of my daughters took a tray home. And I have two…one to keep and one for my son or his daughter, if either would like to have it. 

For quite some time, I’ve wanted to create a tea corner in my kitchen. As I held the tray and considered how to use it in a fresh way, an idea came to mind. 


I completely cleared the table in the corner and started with a blank surface. The yellow tablecloth, which belonged to Greg’s mother, brightened the space immediately. My 3 tiered serving set normally holds the refreshments during a formal afternoon tea. It works nicely for a collection of vintage tea cups. 

Out of the cupboard came my white porcelain tea pot and a milk glass sugar bowl and creamer set. My mason jars of loose tea and wooden teaspoons completed the table top. The vintage metal tray looks gorgeous hanging on the wall and ties everything together. I can easily remove it and unfold the legs if I wish to press it back into duty as a tray. 

I love how this project turned out. My tea items are grouped together cozily and my eyes are drawn to that bright corner. I feel my spirits lift just looking at it. These vintage pretties bring me joy and make me think of Leta Moore, who was a tea drinker and shared that tradition with me

This was a great way to express creativity today. And I was reminded that I’d rather use an item than hide it away. This truth goes beyond displaying vintage pieces. I can hide aspects of myself as well, tucking away my gifts and quirks, until they are nearly forgotten or begin to fade from lack of use. My ability to sketch is an excellent example of what can happen. 

Today’s arrow of desire led me within, to my own inner closets and dusty boxes full of packed away talents. As I move through my house in the days to come, finding fresh and interesting ways to display cherished treasures, I can search inward at the same time. 

What tucked away facets of myself will I uncover? It will be exciting to discover equally fresh ways to see myself and use my gifts. 

Series Review: Doctor Thorne

This was a much appreciated day of rest. Showers rumbling through the area presented the perfect excuse for staying indoors and relaxing aching muscles and a weary body. 

I drew another perfectly timed creative activity:

Find a new creative series to watch on Amazon Prime. 

I enjoyed watching the Amazon Prime series Mozart in the Jungle so much. I’m caught up on Mozart, and I was excited to draw this arrow of desire so that I could find a new series to watch. 

Doctor Thorne, based on the novel by Anthony Trollope, stars Tom Holland, Stefanie Martini, Harry Richardson, Rebecca Front, Richard McCabe, Alison Brie, Ian McShane and Phoebe Nicholls. The historical drama is directed by Niall MacCormick and each episode has a run time of 48 minutes. 

The setting is Victorian England. Julian Fellowes, who created Doctor Thorne, is also the creator of Downton Abbey. 


Episode one introduces Dr. Thorne (Holland) and his young niece Mary (Martini). Mary has lived a simple and happy life with her uncle. However, life becomes more complicated as she enters her 20s. She has grown up interacting with the Greshams next door, who until now have overlooked her lack of family and wealth. 

But when Frank Gresham (Richardson) shows romantic interest in Mary, his parents, Sir Gresham (McCabe) and Lady Arabella (Front) are appalled. They insist that Frank marry for marry, to save the family home and name, and to pay off enormous debt owed to scoundrel Sir Roger Scatcherd (McShane). 


Frank is sent to his match-making aunt, the Countess de Courcy (Nicholls). She encourages Frank to pursue a wealthy young American woman, Miss Dunstable (Brie). Missing Frank and realizing she isn’t considered worthy of marrying him, Mary confronts her uncle about the mysterious circumstances around her birth. Is she truly a Thorne? And what happened to her mother and father? 

This was a fun period piece to watch this evening. While a Victorian era series can be heavy on the drama, Doctor Thorne has a great cast of interesting characters who interject humor into normally serious situations. I was captivated and look forward to watching more episodes. 

The best way to enjoy an English series…with a cup of hot tea. 

As I thought about tonight’s episode, I wondered why I am drawn to these shows that are set in the past in England and Scotland.  This is the target the arrow of desire urged me toward. 

Historically accurate, or not, what is central to all the stories that I love is a strong female character. In spite of expectations from family, friends and society, she is in the process of discovering who she is and living as that person, which means she is unconventional. 

Often there is more to the woman than she yet knows, which is certainly true about Mary Thorne. The journey becomes seeing and accepting herself as the person she truly is. In the great stories the heroine usually discovers that she is actually a princess or an heiress. 


I have yet to discover that either of those two things are true for me! But my journey has been about seeing and accepting myself for who I am as well. It has been about owning my uniqueness and banishing my fears and limiting beliefs. I identify with these strong female characters because I recognize that our journeys are similar, and crucial for reaching that most sought after gift…a happily ever after. 

I can say that I have that. I have found the happiness that I sought. It was within me all along. My journey now is to live fully in that joy and happiness and walk alongside others. 

I’m looking forward to seeing what Mary Thorne discovers on her journey. 

Dream, Dream, Dream

After two long and busy days, that were also fun and rewarding, I was extremely grateful for the creative action that I drew. I’m low energy tonight and I needed an easy activity. 

I selected:

Create a dream jar. 


In a few minutes, I had a simple jar crafted and ready to be the receiver of my dreams. A dream jar is exactly what it sounds like…a receptacle for dreams, wishes and hopes. Although any dream can be dropped into the jar, from huge miraculous hopes to small easily attainable wishes, I am focusing on dreams that challenge me a bit while remaining doable. 

I confess that immediately after I wrote out this arrow of desire and placed it within my glass pitcher, I questioned why I had included it. I almost fished the folded paper out to replace it with another creative action. I thought about why this evening. 

A dream jar seemed very similar to what I was doing already with the 30 arrows of desire. However, I get it now. There’s not much difference between a desire and a dream. But my arrows are focused primarily on creativity as I journey toward a more creative and artistic life. 

The dream jar is focused on movement of any type, toward living out my highest and best wishes for myself. I realize that drawing out daily creative activities, which I have enjoyed and learned from, has seeded the creation of a dream jar. 

As dreams, wishes and hopes come into my awareness, I’ll jot them down and drop them into the jar. Tonight I wrote out Learn helpful words and phrases in Italian. This will be an action step that I can take toward my 2017 dream trip to Italy. 

I’m not sure yet how often I will reach in to randomly select a dream. I’m open to the possibilities. I may let the dream papers accumulate for the rest of the year and let this activity be part of next year’s journey. 

Henry David Thoreau said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.”

This is me, going with such confidence in the direction of my dreams.