What's it really mean to dream-to ?

 This is one in a series of posts in which Trish attempts to dissect the purpose and meaning of dreaming; of looking beyond what is to what if~
Working my way towards the answer myself....


'The master of the art of living makes little distinction between work and play, labor and leisure, mind and body, information and recreation, love and religion. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he's always doing both.'
James Michener

My work is play, and my play is life.
I am blessed.
And yet~
I want more.
I am dreaming-to.
I have a dream-to.
Bigger. Bolder. More.
And it is good.
It is right.
It is prescribed.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, He enables me to go on great heights. Habakkuk 3:19

It is all good.
Dream. See how big you are really designed to be.
in love. trish

how long have you been painting?

How long have you been painting? How long have you done encaustic? How long have you worked this way?

brandishing a paintbrush perhaps?!

How long? I know you’ve heard it too; the value behind the question.  The implied weight of the expected answer.

Do you have longevity in the arts? Has your time spent equated to your time invested? Time. Energy. Duration.

not a feather duster; a new paint applicator :)

When did it become the factor of determination in a good piece of art? In the value of an artist?

Certainly time plays a role; each piece created didn’t happen in the hours of the brush to its particular board, but in the months and years that brought the brush strokes of its composition to lie in just the way it has equal its end result.

So I applaud the test of time.

Just not in the questioning of my worth.

But I answer to it here now because I have reached that line of demarcation; I’ve passed over 40 and can be looked at as a person with experience, a life worth listening to based on years passed by….

I have been an artist all my life.

So cliché.

But I have.

So have you.

So has my engineer dad.

And my human resources sister.

And my facilities manager husband.

We have all been artists our entire lives.

Face it, we are here to create. Just as we’ve been created.

I have been an artist my entire life.

I created the life I am living by breathing through each and every day and choosing to awake to the next.

If you want me to look only at encaustic, I have been an encaustic artist for ten years.

 A decade. 

Splattering into my mixed watermedia before finding my right way into the art of encaustic painting.

But the value of this creation is only complete when it is shared.

So I teach.

And I create more; workshops-

kits to bring encaustic more easily and affordably to a wider audience-

a retreat to indulge the art of mixed media encaustic in a dynamic all inclusive way-

a life traveling and instructing

as many,

 as much,

as far as my eyes can possibly fathom; and then some. 

in love. trish

monday musings #5

Your life is the door you open to it. To which doors have you chosen access?

 in love. trish

One final summer fling~

Hood Canal Cabin one more time before fall hits us head-on~

departing views

Patrick's provocative reading material for the ferry ride

a man and his stump....

and he discovers he can't fly....

My VIP visionaries~

beautiful food; awful photo

the most heart-capturing harbor

the studio stump :)

Off to San Antonio in the morning. I feel as if 'next' has begun; summer is officially over and....here we go~

in love. trish

 

hands and feet

Jesus promises that when we step out to be the hands and feet, he will go with us.

I am stepping.
I leave in a few rapidly-approaching hours for a short trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
Not the PV Americans visit on summer vacation trips with family.
Not PV of beaches and surf and sand.
I leave for PV of poverty~
of native villages and groups of women waking each day, the only desire in their heart that of one to feed their children's empty bellies.

So out of my element.
And, so necessary and desired~
to be thrust into the unknown and faithfully continue stepping into whatever it brings....
to be the hands and feet.

I may return unchanged~
unaffected by the lifestyle I have a front row seat to~
the daily living so desperately contrary to that of the American way, even the American impoverished....

But I will have touched someone.
I will have stepped into one life.
I will have been the 'just what I needed right now' hands and feet for at least one woman.

And, this is why I go.
Despite fears.
Despite lack of....(insert any number of 'thing' here)
Despite not knowing enough....(saa...)

Jesus calls faithful believers to listen to his voice.
And, to go to those in need.
And, to be his hands and feet.

If nothing else I am obeying.
And in this, I am blessed.
And, its' not even about me!~
I get the selfish blessing nonetheless.
What a wonderful way God works his world....
in love. I depart. trish

tired of chaff

What have you done lately that made you stretch?
That took you outside of your comfort zone?
There've been big things for me:
Giving birth: Creating a slew of new bodies to inhabit this earth and become the next generation~
Starting EncaustiKits: Opening myself up to the work of this, the unknown of this, the blessing of this. And whats more, the potential failure of this~
Building EncaustiCamp: To commit to inspire and enliven multitudes, and offer opportunity to dozens of others, through art~

But I'm looking at the little things right now.
Taking a new route to work.
Shopping at a different grocery store.
Sitting in a new seat on the bus.

Or, in my case, walking to the grocery store in Galveston rather than driving.

As I contemplate this choice I made, I am rolling around the idea that it might be bigger, more impact-full, than the big things; than the giving birth and starting a business.

Hear me out~

You see, I was embarrassed.
I took my four plastic grocery bags from the conveyer belt check-out and walked through the double doors into the Galveston sunshine.
Its blast was just like a spotlight~

I am certain every car passing by on the outside of that cocoon of grocery store safety had multiple pairs of eyes staring me down in disgusted and condemning judgement.

Can't you just feel them all?!
Laughing.
Jeering.
Pointing and shoulder bumping their seat mates to 'look at that woman!'
I was certain I was just moments away from being labeled a bag lady.....

Oh, for crikies sake~

Yes, I very quickly disengaged myself from myself and knew that no one,
not a one,
was looking at me.

Their stories, even the moment of driving the next block they were engaged in,
was far more important and focused than my walking by.
Carrying grocery sacks or not.

What a reminder.
I am not that important.

Don't get me wrong-I'm not minimizing my purpose as an individual.
I am actually doing just the opposite.
I am inflating my God given purpose.

Let me explain~
In minimizing self-that part of me that 'saw' everyone looking at me,
I am inflating, taking note of, bringing attention to, my me.

My walk to the grocery store and the decision to carry my bags along a 1/2 mile stretch of a busy, tourist street impacts my me (my spirit-my soul-that me)

 making me stronger...

(have you seen my biceps?!:)

Me am stronger. ( improper English is intentional-don't call and correct me mom!)

To face the voice the next time I am in front of a crowd
whose eyes are truly trained on me
     (unlike the passing commuters on the Galveston road)
with the same perspective this walk has afforded me:
That I (my self) just doesn't matter.
Even if people do take a glance and 'see' my self,
the judgement that may pass through them doesn't matter.

What does matter is the impact me has on them.

And me is not found in my walk on a Galveston street.

Me is found in my walk through my weaknesses, my steps into my strengths, and my footprints in the sand as I plant another forward foot.

Despite fears.
Despite doubts.
Despite judgement.

And the sharing and impacting that occur because I do so.

I'm carrying my groceries on a busy Galveston street.
And me is quite happy about this~

in love. trish.
worth a good listen: http://media.willowcreek.org/weekend/awake-my-soul/#content

Latch on

Latch onto my paintbrush. Come along. It is that good. You are wanted that much.

I was listening to some morning inspiration a few days ago and the speaker told of a story she and her husband had been a party to in their home with two new puppies.
The story goes that one pup, when called to come in from the yard, would bound in responsively, but the second lingered and even seemed to ignore the calls. In frustration the first pup, waiting for the treat or scratch or cuddling it surely anticipated upon answering the beckoning call, returned to the lingering pup with a stick in its mouth. Once reaching the languish-er, him seeing the stick and surely anticipating fun, latched onto it. The first pup used this as a lead to draw the negligent pup into the fold and subsequently into the goodness to come inside. Not just once mind you; this happened over and over and over again to the point where the couple, in bafflement and wonder, realized this very smart, very delightful pup was fully intentional in its leading the second pup in the way.

Latch onto my paintbrush. Come along. It is that good. You are wanted that much. 

Allow me to gently, encouragingly, playfully lead the way. I'll throw in a dose of passion and delight, and offer up some amazing inspiration and community as well.
I promise this.
It is that good.
in love. trish.
www.encausticamp.com

just like a lion

There's a popular story that's circulated over the years about a young boy visiting a sculptures studio and marveling at how very life-like he was able to render the image of a lion in stone.
The sculptor explained to the boy that it was an easy process; he simply chipped away at everything that wasn't the lion.

And so are we.
the stone.

God works on us daily, chipping away at the willing and righteous heart, to come to look, act and be more  like Jesus.
Painful? Sometimes unexpectedly revealing? Always an adventure?
You bet!
I say it with a bit of excitement and even anticipation....

To want pain?!
To want unexpected?!
To want adventure?! (Okay, that one's more believable...)

Yes; I want, with excitement and anticipation, all those things.

Because you see, it's not the pain of injury or heartbreak or devastation,
but the pain of growth, pushing boundaries and taking the road less traveled.

But there's a key; not just any road less traveled-the one designed exclusively, with all the road signs and directional maps labeled and scripted in your own name by the one who designed the best course, the optimal path, the perfect travel plan-just for you.

And, one just right for me.
And, for the next door neighbor.
And the best friend.
Everyone, actually.
For each, a most perfect plan.
Hand designed and sculpted from the great designer himself.

I know, you want to scoff: Don't go yet though.

You see, I used to be you.
A scoffer.
I believed, but I didn't follow.
And I didn't trust.
And I certainly didn't make any decisions other than my own.
And I was miserable.
Lost.
Insecure.
Completely lacking in confidence, direction and purpose.
I bet you can see me clearly.....

Oh I looked okay.
A book contract. An up and coming teaching schedule. The start of a great career and four beautiful teenage boys.
But I was a mess on the inside.
You know, the preverbial 'broken' place.
I was there.

And I found out it wasn't the end. The bottom. the 'all there is'~
It was the beginning.
The starting block.
The sculptor's worktable.

And I began to be formed.
Sculpted if you will.
Parts of me were salvageable; the teaching, the writing, the inspiring.
But there was more to be done.

And I asked for it~

That's another key; a willing heart.
You have to say 'Okay! I'm all in!'
Or, as I did,
' Take me and make me! I am here!'
Daily.

It's so much fun.
Don't believe me?!
Then I dare you.
You don't know till you try.....

You can always change your mind and turn around~
If its too hard.
Or too scary.

And, honestly, it will be.
But its a good hard.
And a really, really good scary.
Truly.
I don't lie.
I find it impossible to do so.
wow.
Don't you want to say that?!
Don't you want to be here?!
Don't you want to see how far you can go, how many you can touch, and just how full your life can be?
It's yours; the one for which you were designed.

Let Him start chipping.
It's amazing.

And, if you ask, I'll tell you morewww.pbsartist.com.
You can come pick up each shard, chip and rock that has fallen from my form and ask me about it.
I am anxious to tell.
Their ugly has made me beautiful :)
pbsartist@aol.com 360-239-8081
in love. trish

acceptance solitude

A beautiful youtube video and a wonderful EncaustiCampers post to share; then my own thoughts!

http://youtu.be/k7X7sZzSXYs

From beautiful blogger and EncaustiCamper Lee Spangler of www.Studiolightblue.com

The Benefits of Solitude

The best art is created in solitude, for good reason: it’s only when we are alone that we can reach into ourselves and find truth, beauty, soul. Some of the most famous philosophers took daily walks, and it was on these walks that they found their deepest thoughts.

My best writing, and in fact the best of anything I’ve done, was created in solitude.

Just a few of the benefits I’ve found from solitude:

• time for thought

• in being alone, we get to know ourselves

we face our demons, and deal with them
• space to create
• space to unwind, and find peace
• time to reflect on what we’ve done, and learn from it
• isolation from the influences of other helps us to find our own voice
• quiet helps us to appreciate the smaller things that get lost in the roar

I've been getting a lot of input relating to solitude lately. I hold a curious wonder at why this is all coming at me, seemingly, at once. I am due for some time in creative retreat mind you; the past 8 months, with a good 10 weeks more to go, of teaching and not being available to the studio for more than a three week block of time-paired with housekeeping and home keeping as well-has me aching for some devoted, distraction less studio time to get creative!
But solitude, I think-despite this pace, has been happening. As I teach far and near, I have moments of alone; in which I sit quietly and listen, walk and reflect, take breaks in between classes and explore-alone. This to me has been valuable, necessary solitude within the furious, sometimes harried days of connecting with like-minded souls across the states :)
I even get ample solitude on the homefront-on a daily basis. For those of you who know my habits, or watch my posts on facebook, twitter and blogging, duly note that I am an early riser!
These precious, before-the-sun, morning moments are blessed with utterly quiet, restful hours of reading and journaling before thoughts and actions that will become my days 'doing' begin to invade.

In the summer months these early hours are enhanced by the just going down minutes of communication with my youngest son as he signs off of his day and I begin my next; a little gift in these last years of children at home.
But the solitude that has been speaking to me in verse
and commentary
and blogging
is different than these captured, treasured moments in between the 'stuff' of my days.

The solitude speaking to me is one of investment, and planning and preparedness. It is one of intention and acceptance. I say acceptance because committing to solitude is difficult; and I don't believe this is true just for me.
It is hard to gift oneself time to oneself. To separate from the demands of job, or family, children or church, craft or commitments and just be in the alone that is required in proper solitude.

It is necessary to get to a place of personal commitment, and strength, courage and acceptance that will supplant the guilt, sense of self indulgence and doubt that is sure to invade the psyche upon determining a need for a block of solitude.

I mean really...if we are built for relationship, then how dare we step aside to take time in quite, absolute, exquisite!, solitary confinement right?!
But it is necessary, truly required I've found, in order to be properly 'all in' for the rest of ones' life: For this relationship-created life we've been called to.

The unfortunate element in this is that it is rare in youth that we discover this necessity.
Youthfulness is consumed by doing and finding, establishing and building.
There is rarely time and space to allow for rest and regrouping.
Often times this leads to the unfortunate breakdown of relationships, abilities-as we stretch ourselves too thin, and in some cases, when not checked in time,
ourselves.
Yet, perhaps it is in this learning that can only happen in the gathering of years on our calendar of life that we can truly breathe deep and relinquish ourselves to the necessity and unselfish side of taking time out to accumulate the nothingness of solitude.

And with that nothingness~
deep peace and wisdom to step back into the doing we've spent our years creating.
And embrace it with the same fervor and anticipation that came at its inception. Thereby, re birthing our youthful stamina and zeal, with this added balance of peace and acceptance.
Ah. That's the joy so spoken of.
Bring it on. I am ready. Unselfishly ready.
To solitude.
Check me on the other side of November :)
in love. trish.

drum roll please...........!

As my second book Encaustic Mixed Media hits the book shelves, I am offering this little lesson I learned in the writing of it~ Enjoy!
And, all new followers and comments to this post will be put into a drawing for three free books! So make sure and share your thoughts so I can look forward to sending three lucky winners a signed copy :)

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore,
is not an act but a habit.
Aristotle

I do not profess to be excellent; far from it. But then, what is the definition? Is excellence a once and done goal to be reached or is it something we strive towards in each and every moment of your lives? Over and over again; seeking to be excellent in this awakening, excellent in this hello, excellent in this next encounter, excellent in this next task.
So in this definition, I am excellent! because I strive to repeatedly make excellence a habit of my day.
And today I give to you a bit of this excellence. Today I give to you the piece of me that strove to be the best encaustic artist and author for this book, Encaustic Mixed Media. Today I give to you the excellence of my habit to prove the versatility and malleability of beeswax to be above all else.

I will have moved to a new place by the time you pick up this book and read my words. I will have moved into a new habit of excellence and begun to work towards a new level of experimentation, or encouragement or excellence. I will look to the words and works of this book, in its most excellent form at release, and see the change that has occurred since then; surely being much too discriminating and determining it not at all the excellence I’d thought on this day of writing!

But that is the beauty, or the bane!, of excellence.
If one is to truly be so, to strive for this habit in character and performance, one has to be prepared to look back from a newly achieved level of excellence and accept the place that was called excellent the day, or week, or year before.
So it is with humble pride, tremendous gratitude and wary release that I give you Encaustic Mixed Media.
Putting all of my current heart, soul and effort into making it the all that it can be; the excellence that is it’s potential-knowing that there will be a new level to share with you as I grow in my habit to be and become most excellent. In love. Trish
A quick peek into just some of the where I am moving as I live excellent now, in this day :)

telling stories

I love words. Letters really. I like to feel how they form as I scribe them in journals. I like to see them in assorted handwritings on papers of all kinds. I like to hear how they come together to form different sounds.
I love to use words; in my artwork to lead into a story. In my journal to take me through questions and on to a resolution. In my blog to share who I am with whomever decides to check it out.
But I've come to realize that words can come together to tell stories that don't always do good. These stories are told to ourselves, in our heads, and often times, no, most of the time, lead us into verse that is terribly misdirected and does more harm than good.
Planted from an encounter, watered with associations from the past and fertilized by our own fears and insecurities, these stories can grow to become a reality stronger and more real than the one standing in front of us.
What a foolish waste of a beautiful thing! For more often than not the only thing grows from these are heartache, loss and pain. That and an opportunity to learn.
If one is honest to what they are doing-watering a thorn bush rather than an oak tree-fess up to this and release determination to be right in it-to hold onto this story for prides sake even in the midst of contrary elements-one gets to learn. And to grow. And to become better and stronger.
For me it means becoming better at being the soul I was created to be: To walk the talk He planted in my heart. Whatever your analogy, in the end, to be able to embrace the growth opportunity-let go of the selfishness in it and to open your heart to what is in front of you, the stories will lose their appeal. They will grow more faint, carry less verbage and eventually fall away. Which leaves room for other things to fill in its place~
Grace. Abounding love. Getting to live the true definition of happiness. in love. trish.

rejection...but not mine!

Daniel called me Saturday. Michigan State University turned down his application. He called not only to inform me of this, but to brainstorm ideas and get my opinion on how to proceed. In other words, he hasn't given up hope! The tone of his voice was light and eager: If I hadn't heard him say the contrary, I would've thought he'd been accepted!
It broke my heart to realize he was experiencing this rejection and I couldn't take it from him. I'm starting to see that this will last my lifetime-feeling pain for my children and wanting to carry it for them. They'll be 60 years old-I'll be in a bungalow with my cats and paint brushes- and I'll still want to pull their pain and disappointment from them and carry it myself!
Yet, Daniel is proving beautifully resilient and quite fine without my arms to carry him~
Perhaps this resilience and positive, forward looking mentality is my carrying him. If we are to look at our children and assess from where personality traits are born, Daniel's positive attitude would be attributed to my gene pool. His ability to look through loss to opportunity is grown from the Baldwin part of his brain power! So in this perhaps I can say I am carrying his pain-helping him to move through the disappointment. Some of the best things in my life have grown from loss and rejection. They have not ended in the pain of them, they've thrived in the potential they create for growth in new opportunities.
And now it's time for my children to make these realizations and grow from their own pain. I pray I have been the model in which they can identify peace and opportunity in their difficulties. Even a little excitement in it; knowing that the rejection is just making room for something bigger. As it has been for me. Always look forward Daniel! in love. trish
earth is crammed with heaven.

packages

Tell me please, have you had in your life a package so beautiful, so tantalizing, so enticing that you spent days, weeks-heaven forbid-months, imagining the glory it must contain within? For, how could such a perfectly wrapped package possible hold anything but the most scrumptious, enlivening, richness on the inside as well?! And yet, once open the contents are uninspired, ill-matched trinkets that soon tarnish all the tantalizing wrapping that held so much promise and intrigue.

Or, perhaps you tell just the opposite: That your packages have all been wrapped in plain paper; boring grocery store gift wrap that blends into the background and is nearly unnoticable. Yet, on the inside, if time is taken to open these plain wrapper gifts, you discover that the contents are glorious; a wonderful surprise of synchronized harmony and perfectly placed parcels.

Is there a place, a time, a package that comes together? The wrapping beautiful, enticing beyond imagination and once open, the contents more wondrously harmonious than could've possibly been dreamt?

Tell me, does it exist? If one is working toward creating the best packaging for themself while honing the contents to meet the delicious expectations of the recipient, can the gift exchange occur?

Perhaps we just have to continue to open them all. No hesitations. No limitations. Until we receive a glorious one and find equally wonderful interior to match :) in love. trish!

contents perfected. Just right.

my wish

That the choices I've had to make for myself-that directly effect him-will be seen as building blocks, not brick walls. That the anger he feels will manifest into learning and growing and appreciating; not 'chip on my shoulder', 'glass half empty', 'world's out to get me' living. That my inability to protect him, to nurture him, to carry him is not seen as an inability to deeply love and care about him. That some burned bridges can be rebuilt. That he will see his gift, the one born to him alone, and he will not just walk his path, but fly! That he find love for himself; and trust in himself; and faith in himself. That he believe. in love. trish.

book it

I mentioned in an earlier entry that I had gone to Sitka Center for Art and Ecology on the Oregon coast to participate in a workshop. I think I even managed to hint at it being a bookbinding workshop...yet the results of this time have been mysteriously absent from this blogging....
(I'm using natural beeswax from my local beekeeper!)
It takes time to process new information and techniques! I've been playing, one could say, and call it a truth. :) Spending good time and energy cutting, sanding, stitching and waxing my scrumptious coptic bound wood covered books. Just what I hoped to achieve in the workshop. And just what I had hoped I'd feel about them once I found my way around their creation by my own hands; oh so yummy! More diversity to play in. More experimentation to mess with. More stuff to explore! And, more to come, I assure you!!! in love. trish

zen quiet

I am painting now a days. Lots and lots of painting. With wax, with tar, with plaster, with oil, with glue, with fire. Painting. All this painting is being punctuated by regular dusting, organizing, scrubbing, pulling baby beets from my 4'x10' garden plot and mowing my lawn of similar dimensions. Yet mostly painting and painting and painting. Just as I desired my days to enfold this summer: To fall gently into the peace of not being beckoned to fill a belly or find clean socks. After the first day of stabbing anxiety at the emptiness in this change to alone, I have found the zen that has been suggested exists in the acceptance of quiet.

Waking at 4am to plug in the palette, organize the papers, listen to the bird chirp and sip the coffee. Eating lunch over an arrangement of carving tools and watching the sun set while hitting firing up the propane torch. Doing, seeing, acting, feeling, being-just as I want. Just as I need. Just as I feel. Selfish. Entirely, self indulgently selfish. Yet, accepting this and simply moving with it is giving me so much learning, so much feeling, so much accepting and so much love. Recognizing the value in alone; and the deep necessary value of every rich, difficult, blessed, challenging bit of life. in love. trish

wearing the right fit

I find that I get better at standing in my own shoes the more I do it. Makes perfect sense, I know, but let me explain. For most of my life I've trod the path of others-in borrowed shoes if you will. I never realized they were shoes on loan; I thought I was wearing my true fit when I was taking steps in them. But in bits and pieces over the years I began to feel that missteps and stumbles along my life's path weren't happening because I had made an incorrect choice but rather because I was trying to make someone else's shoes fit my form. My feet, my soul, was trying to move me on the path true to it while the shoes I was wearing were trying to keep me pointed in the direction they had laid for me. A clashing of finality occurred nearly six years ago now and the ability for the two forces to coexist on this one set of ten toes became definitively impossible. The stumbles and missteps of previous years came back to me for what they were-attempts by my true soul to carry me instead of the borrowed imposter's. Sometimes it takes a sledge hammer to the side of the head to come to this realization and send the borrowed, incorrectly fit sneakers flying off one's feet. Sometimes one is gifted with the ability to chose and wear the perfect fit from birth.

Little stumbles and missteps still occur today, two years after complete assimilation to this true set of walking shoes designed just for me. But the stumbles are recognizable as my own misguided steps and I am quick to take notice, listen and realign the direction the toes are pointed.

To come to be wearing my size as I have-after being directed by a surrogate set for so long-the walking now a days has a brightness, an intensity and passion in each and every moment that still stands to astound me. Awake. Smiling and fueled by life. in love. trish

voluntary solitary confinment

or maybe I should call it house arrest. Hmmm. Both sound so final; so definitive and closed. But that's not what it is at all. I am closing doors in order to open new ones. Seeking voices and words to carry me to the next place-by standing alone: walking in a solitary state and listening.

I have found that I enjoy being in a relationship. I thrive in it on one level, but also lose a bit of myself. That's where in lies the work-in finding a way to not lose oneself in the passion and enthusiasm of sharing bits of life with a partner.

I can even say I crave it sometimes. The surety of a kiss coming your way. A guarantee of companionship through the next DVD rental. Company for a walk along the sunset strewn beach. But I thrive on my independence as well. Drinking my first cup of coffee in bed without concern of disturbing some one's slumber. Eating dinner when my stomach growls rather than awaiting a table-with-a-view reservation. Not putting makeup on until noon. Boxers and tank top at the dinner table. One towel drying on the towel rack.

I'm on hiatus. I'm pulling back from all the extra that surrounds my days and simply engaging in listening. Doing and acting from my instincts and intuition and following where it leads. Now is the time. My guys are away: My house is purged of testosterone. Let's see where it takes me.

And, let me simply live and wait for the somebody who will come along and love me without requiring instructions. in love. trish. girly girl

my daniel

I have been learning a lot about myself over the past few years. Discovering where my heart's passion truly lies, unearthing my personal voice, redefining love and what it means for me in my life. It has been an amazing journey, and one I recognize I am on for the duration! These lessons learned open to new experiences that create new lessons and thus new learning to be done~

This is my Daniel. He is 17 1/2 and grabbed me-heart and soul at birth. He has a tender gentle countenance and the person he is, the soul he possesses, speaks to me poignantly. Each of my children holds an exalted, unique place in my heart and I can not do this living without each and every one of them: There's just something about Daniel.

He is the second baby. Where Conner reeled back, screaming at the stars for the first few months of his life, Daniel gently cuddled, latched on and peacefully connected. He was an 'oops' baby; growing the family wasn't the plan just yet. Daniel can be 'blamed' as the catalyst to my big family~he made me want more.

The day after his 16th birthday he moved to Michigan to live with his father. We'd lived there for five years until moving to Washington in 2004. My boys developed a connection to the midwest that I did not. Where they want to call Okemos, Michigan their home, I connect to it angst, struggle, heartache and falling away. I can get a sense of their emotional connection to the area, but I still have a bubble of disappointed quandary in the trying to understand it. Their experiences there are so very different than mine; we simple can not emotionally identify on the same level. It pains me that I could not give them my love of the west coast, but I have to let that go and know that they are finding their own way.

I struggle with Daniel's absence from my daily rounds. It is so very odd to have a child not living under your roof. Even if, as living under this roof, we simply said good morning, have a great day, and ate dinner together before rushing off to our own activities, he was still here in my sites. I see him three times a year now. I play a game with myself when the pain of this is too strong. I imagine him a brilliant savant who was whisked off to Yale at an early age. Silly mom.

Deep down I recognize the rightness of his choice and the good it is for his life. I just struggle with the changing form of this love, the loss of connection, and the building of a new relationship description. How do parents let go and let live? Or, how do you get to where the letting go is not married to pain and angst? I have never been a gripping, controlling mother, I believe I've created very independent, self sufficient children for the world, but I still cry as he gets on the plane alone. I still baulk at photos taken of myself with three boys, not four. Perhaps there just is no letting go. The belly button is a testament to this: The cord has been cut physically, but emotionally it is wrought in steel to never be cleaved. in love. trish

I make these and think of Daniel every time Krispie Treats
6 cups rice krispies
1 c corn syrup
1c sugar
1 c creamy peanut butter
1 c chocolate chips
1c butterscotch chips
In a small saucepan heat the corn syrup and sugar until bubbling. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter. Pour this mixture over the krispies in a large bowl. Stir to combine. Press into a greased 9x13 casserole dish. Melt both chips together in the microwave; 30 second bursts with stirring in between. Spread over krispies. Cool and cut! super sweet yumminess.