The End

I recently published my first edited book,  Labor of Love: A Literary Mama Staff Anthology ,  with  Small Harbor Publishing . It's an anthology of writing from  Literary Mama  staff over the past 20 years. It's a beautiful collection and I am proud of the writers and proud to share the book.  It seems a fitting moment, as I pondered sharing about the book here on the blog, to reflect on my life as a blogger, and acknowledge that it is time to officially end this blog.   I started blogging in about 2007, when my baby was learning to toddle, when I was learning how to be a mother and stepmother, when I was just starting to see my way as a writer. I needed it back then. I craved it. I had a variety of blog iterations--family, art, creativity, writing things I delved into. There's a freedom in blogging, a casualness, an easy familiarity that's lacking (for me anyway) in other kinds of writing. I loved blogging and the words came pouring out.  Over the years since then, some
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Balance Wednesday- Create Art

I forgot something. I got so pissed at Monday's Supreme Court decision that I forgot myself. Anger is a powerful force, enough to make people go crazy on the internet. I started to go there. An easy place to express my anger. But was thankfully reminded by a friend that I have more important things to do than get angry over the stupid comments that abound. 

 I'm sitting on my patio, grateful I have a patio to sit on. The breeze is slight, barely enough to push the heat away. The birds are calling from all around me, singing their songs, oblivious to my feelings and the millions of other things that are happening right now: people are shooting each other; dogs are barking; women are being raped; butterflies are landing on milkweed; children are swinging on swings; corn tassels are turning golden. Someone is crying. The wrens, the crows, the finches, all flit around seeking their lunch, finding their friends, warding off the threats to their young.

 Sitting here amongst all this, I remembered that the best way for me to ward off my own threats is to create art. Whatever form it takes, creating something beautiful or meaningful is an antidote. Maybe even seeing something beautiful will suffice.

 I typed Art into Google. The first row of items included this picture, with a link to the State of the Art Gallery in downtown Ithaca. It is called "Seeing the Forest," by Leslie K. Brill.

I clicked over to the picture and was so moved. A perfect image of the trees above where I sit right now. Despite the courts, despite the wars, despite the stupidity on the Internet--this painting exists. The birds above me exist. The clink of my dog's collar as she wanders, panting, toward me exists. The breeze that picks up and washes the old air away exists. These things are alive, now.

 Sometimes balance is incredibly hard to find. Sometimes the weights are just too heavy. Sometimes you have to work with every fiber of your being to perceive what is real; but when you do, when you see the forest filled with the beauty of individual trees, it can be much easier to remember.

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