This fall and winter, I am inviting two new words to guide my creative life: attention and mischief.
A few days after Christmas I’m eating veggie curry watching the sea through the window. There’s a lighthouse on a little island that appears and disappears through the clouds. Sometimes there are figures walking on the headland near the tower.
I’m here as a kind of halfway house—after spending Christmas with my family in the suburbs and before going back to my tiny studio in the city centre.
All of the things are blooming. Have you noticed? June is here. The Cecil Brunner rosebush is magnificent this year--an explosion of flowers so heavy that its top has fallen away from the white wall of the little city cottage where Lucia is made, and is spilling toward the alleyway. There is a lesson here for me, in expectation and fruition...
Sunday, April 9, 2017 - Daily Notes, From the Editor (550 words). Whoa, April is intense. Burgeoning. This thing we call Spring is aptly named. To the untrained eye, new growth appears suddenly, but if you have been paying attention you know: this all started long ago.
Happy New Year! Oh, the plans I had for ending 2016 with a neat bow, a perfect email, and an announcement of a new offering I've been working on for early 2017. Out the window they flew sometime in the last week while I struggled to balance heart work with paid work, dreams with reality. Instead, I woke this morning unfinished. Like I always do...
While driving to a friend’s house last summer, I had a vision. It appeared like a deer in the headlights. As soon as I arrived, I demanded a paper and pen. She happily obliged, easily detecting I was onto one of my wild hairs. I kneeled at the coffee table and a sketch emerged, a triangle with points labeled: coaching, creative, capital. Beside it, a smaller triangle: people, planet, profit.
I voted this morning.
It took me awhile, not because I questioned who to vote for, but because it felt momentous, humongous, historical. I wanted to mark this moment on my heart.
The first woman on the ballot for President of the United States is not a small thing. We are on the cusp of history. We are living legend. We are the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the suffragettes who wore white suit-dresses and fought valiantly against a tide of misogyny (and the men who stood guard beside them) in order for us to have this right.
They are the reason this ballot arrived in my mailbox addressed to "Ms. Laura Lowery" and they are smiling down on all of us now.
I could feel them as I made my mark, there in my living room by the dawn's early light.
A few more words from my little moment, over at Lucia today. May our votes be true, and may we all be stronger together...
