+ Her Barefoot Heart

Tag: stones

stories seen and unseen

Heartrock

Stories are what make us . . . not the other way around. ~ Roger Housden

One day, perhaps for no discernible reason, you decide you want to dig up that cute little heart shaped rock and take it home. You get down on your knees and brush the dirt away. You dig at it with a trowel, trying to unearth it, and in the process, you find that it’s only heart-shaped because of the way the dirt has piled up around it, giving it shape and defining it as a heart. Through continued digging you discover that it’s not just a cute little heart-shaped rock, after all, but a part of something bigger – something much, much bigger.

The digging is hard work in and of itself, and that’s why some people prefer to enjoy the cute little heart-shaped rock as it is, to leave it undisturbed . . . which is absolutely fine. Whether you want to leave it as the heart-shaped rock you’ll enjoy on your walks or unearth the boulder and see what bedrock you’re walking on, perhaps you’d like to join the Keepsake Writing Tribe. We kick off on Saturday, 2/15 and we saved you a seat.

for yourself and your posterity

Stone8

when you write from life
you sometimes hit pockets of dark

Stone7

and just when you don’t think you can take any more,
you hit pockets of sparkle

Stone5

it is not linear, writing from life.
oh sure, you can start with your earliest memory,
but before you know it,
you’re writing about something that happened just yesterday.

Fragments

there are memory fragments

Cracks

and there are rifts and crevices
in the ole’ memory bank.

Stonecomplete

yet through it all,
writing your life
recording your stories
capturing your memories
is a rich and colorful experience,
just like your life.
and in the end,
you have something that will be treasured
treasured, i tell you
for generations to come.

[ :: ]

Maybe you’re ready to write your autobiography?
As a lifelong personal historian, Jeanne Hewell-Chambers
knows how to navigate through the treasure map
that is your life.
And hey,
even if you don’t become a Keepsake Writer,
(but I sure do hope you will)
promise you’ll carve out some time to capture and preserve
stories from yourself and your family.
You’re the only one who can, you know.

84

lines stitched:

(the fabric is white,
it just looks blue
because of the time of day
i finished stitching.)
(it does kinda’ match my mood, though.)

84b

things line up.
sometimes clearly,
sometimes chaotically.
sometimes they line up just the way we wanted them to,
sometimes they line up in ways we could not have foreseen,
even in our wildest imagination.
sometimes they line up all nice and neat,
sometimes you have to put on your best creativity hat
and squint your eyes
to see that they line up at all.

sometimes a line is straight
sometimes a line is curved.

sometimes a line goes straight from point a to point b
sometimes a line loops back and forth all over itself
but still arrives somewhere.

sometimes a line is a letter
sometimes a line is a number.

sometimes a line is an object,
sometimes a line is a feeling.

sometimes the shortest distance between two points
is not, in fact, a straight line.

keep the lines open.
tow the line.
draw the line.
hold the line.

sometimes a line moves,
sometimes a line stays in one place for so long,
it becomes wallpaper.

sometimes a line tells a story,
sometimes a line show the way.

sometimes the line screams STOP
and trips you up if you don’t heed.

sometimes a line marks the sweet spot,
the finish line,
sometimes a line of demarkation warns us
to stay the hell away.

and that’s just the way it is,
as far as i can tell.

lines drawn:

5 84 1 erased

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.