“Listen, Child.

Remember who we are: daughters of strong limbed women with imperfect hearts, makers and givers of life. Suffering to our dreams. Forming circles of comfort, sweet tea and honey. We cooked because we had to. Who else fed the children? Believers on a crooked path to a better life- a place where every other step didn’t involve a battle. Give it all up, lay it all down. Sacrifice is all we knew.

Sacrifice. This is your power. You don’t have to win. You don’t have to have all the answers. Grit your teeth and bear it. Turn suffering into beauty. Be a true hero. Fight for more than just your own heart. Have the courage to let some things go. You are victorious for the decisions you have made. They can not steal memories. Brave one, this is who we are. “

~Her Truth

A Bird’s Eye View

Paint with children. Nurture imagination. Read of artistic styles, study the work of artists. Visit a gallery.

An abstract world, as seen through the eyes of a child. Beautiful.

“If I could remove one thing from the world and replace it with something else, I would erase politics and put art in its place. That way, art teachers would rule the world. And since art is the most supreme form of love, beautiful colors and imagery would weave bridges for peace wherever there are walls. Artists, who are naturally heart-driven, would decorate the world with their love, and in that love — poverty, hunger, lines of division, and wars would vanish from the earth forever. Children of the earth would then be free to play, imagine, create, build and grow without bloodshed, terror and fear.” 

― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Beauty surrounds us. It’s a found nest, tossed from the trunk of an old oak. It’s innocence and a lack of sophistication. It’s crocus shoots breaking through frosted hardpan or a child’s scribbled note. It’s a falling star and the crush of rose. It’s kisses and rain, the words of a poet.

It’s simple and magnificent as most true things are.

The succulent, dressed in a paper bag. The discarded nest, a home for moss covered bulbs. Titanium snow and Magenta blossoms. It’s birdsong at dawn and the scribbled note you framed. It’s the hive of memories you keep.

~I See Flowers And Smile