Listening - watching
taking a moment
drawing the world
finding the way to connection
again and again.

For upcoming classes and events
visit my website –

Thursday, September 29, 2011

New Season / New Strokes

Bringing what is inside - out . . .
onto the page -
through the screen -
into the world . . .

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Summer Vacation

Taking a pause
on the slow blogging . . .

Getting ready for
Consider joining me . . .

here is the link for more information -

Four days in July
exploring with brush, pencil, pen and voice
listening and speaking what's true. . .


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Walk in the Woods

I am in Holland again for
the Authentic Leadership in Action conference.

One afternoon, after so much talking,
I need to clear my mind and feel the "more-than-human" world.

I step outside and walk into the woods . . .

But this path goes on and on. 
There is no right turn path to take me back.

Suddenly right to my side, standing in the dark woods,
I see a small herd - eight of them - all different sizes, bristled, tusked. 
I stop. They stop. We watch each other. 
After a long moment they all trot away. 
I think, "Ah - this is why I came out here. It's all worth it now! "

I ask him where the conference center is. 
He doesn't know, but tells me if I keep going I'll get to the village of Ellspeet. 
I've been walking for an hour and a half. 
I find my way to the village, comforted by the presence of houses. 
I turn down the paved road. Four teenagers on bicycles pass by and assure me
the center is two kilometers ahead. 
I begin to calm down . . . 

I step into the building. It is buzzing with activity. 
I appreciate each person in a whole new way. 

Thursday, March 3, 2011


On a gray afternoon
I see the shape
of the aspen tree
anew. . .

Saturday, January 8, 2011


Sitting in this quiet studio
(husband and son off on their adventures in the world)
as snow falls steadily outside. 
Hours spent this morning on the phone and computer,
attending to - caring for - relationships. 
Now I turn to the strand of bittersweet,
clipped and unwound from the rose brambles, 
waiting for me . . .