Tuesday, December 14, 2010

{on knowing exactly what to do}

Asleep in the Tall City

there was a moment yesterday when everything became so crystal clear it was stunning.  this, i thought, is exactly what i'm meant to be doing. sharing hope. now. not waiting till i'm 'fixed' or 'perfect' or 'ready', but right now in amidst all my imperfectness and all my brokenness. nothing in a long time has felt as clear as that moment when i realised that you can simultaneously offer hope whilst also receiving it.  that you can be uncertain and afraid, and still have important gifts to give.  i think it was this post by jen lemen that opened my eyes and my heart. it gave voice to something that i have been trying to put words around for such a long time.

i've felt so disconnected these past few months.  i've been here and there, but often not really present.  i've really noticed it on the blog.  that i've been showing up, but a part of me has felt completely absent.  i think sometimes when it all goes pear shaped we close off part of ourselves.

i've been thinking how this period has been such a time of solitude for me, and how strange it has been for an extrovert like myself to spend 7 months largely alone.  i've been thinking how this time has been a journey with my painting and with myself.  me in my studio with the cats and my paint brush for company.  i've been thinking about how necessary this time was, but also how ready i am for it to be over.  how ready i feel to do more than spend my days quietly painting.  how ready i feel to connect with the world again, to write more and to think more about breathing life into this idea of sharing hope. it is compelling me.

i am so completely energised and honoured by those who contacted me regarding my post yesterday.  packages will be going out soon, full of hope, love and care.  thank you.  together we do make a difference.


  1. I am constantly amazed how when you give hope to someone else you snatch a little for yourself.

  2. That is wonderful. So happy for you. Every cloud has a silver lining. You just have to know how to look. cherrie

  3. I really do think that everything happens for a reason - even the really crappy things.

  4. ... like they say ... what goes round, you know the rest! I'm sure that's what's happening with you. Hey, from one extrovert to another I have a larger than usual amount of introvert ... maybe you have it too. Whatever it is ... don't fret, you're gorgeous ;)

  5. missed yesterdays post but it's a FABULOUS idea to spread some HOPE during this season! I love your project and am glad it's working out so wonderfully =-)

  6. So lovely Cathy.... hope going out in the world. I missed the post yesterday too, but what a lovely time I had visiting today's and yesterdays together. We can do so much with such little effort, thank you. xxx

  7. This so beautiful and heart-felt...

    Looks like there was some big, warm, sunny magic happening in the process of painting Asleep in the Tall City. :)

  8. Oh there you go again... Your words represent exactly how I've been feeling but unable to articulate... "sharing hope. now. not waiting till i'm 'fixed' or 'perfect' or 'ready', but right now in amidst all my imperfectness and all my brokenness." Thank-you for this amazing clarity and the gentle reminder that's it's OK to share the darkness too. I've been struggling with this a lot lately over on my blog. Thank-you for expressing it so well.

    I swear you are my sister from a different Mother...lol! xo

  9. You are wonderful! I especially enjoy seeing your photo today. It is good to see your smile. I am feeling your words. Sometimes I think about what a roller coaster life is, ups, downs, straight paths, just going on the ride and not knowing what is next.