There's Been Some Stuff

Dear Ones,

   Epic road trips..  .

Epic road trips...

Since I last wrote to you over a year ago, so much has happened. As time passed stuff began to pile on top of stuff and soon it was like that insurmountable pile of stuff in the garage that no one wants to tackle. I became overwhelmed with what to do with it all. Too much to tackle, too much to tell. 

Where do I begin? 

There was the purchase of an old motor home. The renovation of the motor home. Epic road trips. The illnesses of loved ones, which led to countless other smaller road trips. The greatest loss I’ve experienced in my life. My highest highs and lowest lows. It’s all piled up in photographs stored on the laptop and journals of writings about it all. Stacked up and waiting to send to you. But I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck for so long that I’ve had to reset my passwords because I wasn’t able to access my accounts. 

   Yesterday, Today and Forever plant from my Mother's garden

Yesterday, Today and Forever plant from my Mother's garden

I’ve passed the sixty mark since my last communication. There’s been a winter of discontent and a spring with an ocassional spark of hopefulness. But as Steven Presfield says in his book THE WAR OF ART, there’s RESISTANCE in the mix of creative types. That painting that stares at you from across the room that you just cant seem to finish. My camera left full of photo’s waits to be downloaded. The journals bulging with words I’ve wanted to share with you. Waiting, haunting me, just staring at me. I stare back, wishing I knew where to begin or how to begin again. Resistance gets the best of me.

  A once in a lifetime trip. ..

A once in a lifetime trip...

And so dear, today I place my fingers on the keys. I type in the password and hope that it’s the right one. To start again. One thing I’ve learned over the last year is that each day we get a Do-over if we need one. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it doesn’t mean the F-word (failure). It does mean that life is glorious and forgiving and begins anew each morning. Just like this sheet of paper before me. All crisp and white and BLANK. Waiting for me and waiting for you to fill it with our stuff. However we want. Mark it up, paint it up in your own way. We begin again. So here goes, TOWANDA!  

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Ive included a few of the gazillion photo’s from my stuff I’ve got waiting to share with you. Until I uncrate some more, that’s all for now! 

Peace Be with you,

Towandagal

For lo, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
The time of singing has come,
And the voice of the turtledove
Is heard in our land.
— Song of Solomon 2: 11-12 NKJ