bliss

Sometimes bliss is work.

This is true.  Did you know that Van Gogh painted some nine hundred paintings during his lifetime and only sold one?  Nine hundred paintings people.  No wonder he went insane and ultimately took his own life. I believe he literally painted his heart and soul out onto the canvases.

A few years ago one of his sunflower paintings sold for close to forty million dollars.  That's the going price for heart and soul these days.

Unless you read this blog. Then you get heart and soul for free.

I'm in Houston, following my bliss.  I've been blogging for a long time.  A door has opened and I thought I'd come in and take a look around.

I'm not sure where this path will lead but I do know one thing.  When I write I don't loose my heart and soul. 

I find it.

“When you follow your bliss... doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn't be a door for anyone else.” -Joseph Campbell

letting go

photo: artful magpie

I dreamed of becoming a writer. A real bonafide, published author.

I started a writing journal.

I collected words like salt and pepper shakers.

flabbergasted
mozambique
discombobulate

I jotted down catchy phrases for future use.

I mailed off manuscripts.

After a while I started collecting my rejection letters.

Dear April, Thank you for your submission, unfortunately...

I glued the rejections into my writing journal.

Why? I don't really know. Maybe as proof of effort.

Sometimes you find yourself holding on for dear life to a dream, afraid to let it go. Stalled.

Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith. Maragret Shepard said that. I read it on a calendar and it has stuck with me.

I slowly pried my heart from around the writing dream. I slowly, ever so slowly, let it go.

Years went by.

I discovered blogging.

Today I write not to make a living, but in spite of the crazy life I'm living.

I write because I let go and my hands were empty, ready to receive a new dream, similar to my old dream, revamped.

If I've learned one thing in life it is this: when you make plans God laughs.

I dreamed of becoming a writer. God made me a mother, wife and blogger.

My readers don't have to go to Barnes and Noble and buy a book. They can sit in front of their computer in their bathrobe with their coffee, bad breath and bagel and read for free. I'm quite sure more people click over to Suaviloquy everyday than would have ever bought my book.

And I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for dropping by and helping me realize the dream I never dreamed on purpose.

cloudy with a chance of blogging

The sky broke open and the rain is coming down. It is dark and quiet in my house. The baby is nestled down under the covers in her crib. I'm listening to Lissie while I work in my art room. The hound dog is sleeping at my feet and he only stirs to lift his head when the dryer buzzes.


I started to work on an article that I was asked to write about infertility, but I decided a rainy day isn't conducive to the hopeful feeling I wish to convey.


What does one say the infertile?


What is there to say anyway?


Why is rain inherently sad when it should be just the opposite? Rain makes everything grow. It gives life.


Today I want to think about rolling green fields, not barren wastelands.