Three days. Three motivations. Day 2.

A Guy called Bloke nominated me to share my motivations and I happily oblige, feeling motivated to share my inner thoughts. Why not? 😜💕✌🏼

Glad you bother to read my posts at all! What, with all your responsibilities, who am i to take up your time?

This is the path unfolding before me. A red carpet spread to the ends of the earth, piled high with rocks and sand and twigs and leaves. Accompanied by the fragrance of flowers and promise of new Days. While Nights wander aimlessly toward silence and i reside peacefully as billions of stars awaken.

Oh! This too! Or better yet, make some of your own art! Grab a brush, paint, and go! 🎨 ☔️🌵🌼🍄🍁🍂🐾 J🕊🎶🎶🎶

My Monhegan


Oh! to find relaxation. Get lost amidst the Monhegan sea air.

I once honored the rapt attention of the island’s evening. Witnessed the homeward gulls, floating above. Shhhh! i warned them. I desired the whispered stories unfolding below the ocean waves.

I witnessed their goodbyes descend upon my eyes. Their limelight emitted farewell and invited the lesser stars to partake in the feast. Satisfied, i bid farewell, in hopes my soul would once again return.

*The finished painting from a previous post.

Waking Up

I believe inside each of us resides a broken heart that never received the love needed. Our job is to heal those wounds, as revealed, and to search for those yet uncovered.

It came to me -a dream
And so my friend,
he has a name -Goy Peppo.

My constant companion on this writing adventure, Goy “Penguin” Peppo. He hardly believes I have shoved out all these words, nonstop, since 2008. Its akin to puking… i slowly loose the burden, strung around my neck, threatening to hang me.

Certainly there are people who would loved to have seen me dead. Growing up, there were kids in school who harbored ill desires toward me. At home, my sisters regulated me to a corner of the room, size of a cardboard box, and threw my clothes on top. I was invisible to my parents who walked right past and never noticed the tears.

Nights. I remember being in the dark, listening to the laughter coming from the living room. My parents and sisters would make pizza and popcorn and watch tv. It didn’t matter. I held my breath, covered my face with a pillow, in hopes the world would disappear. I would wake to silence, thinking I was dead. Imagine the disappointment when my wishes had not come true.

So, Goy searches for Words of Wisdom, in hopes, with time, I can be as loved as him.

Wharton “It was easy enough to despise the world, but decidedly difficult to find any other habitable region.”

Woolf “I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.”

“I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!”

Alcott “I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end.” (Jo March)

Frost “Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”

Plath “Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those.

If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed.

I feel my words are changing as I am healing. Becoming one heart. Whole. I hope I am growing as a writer, expressing the deep caverns, still not lit well enough to explore.

Writing is a discipline as any other creative endeavor. What we give of ourselves, to both the process and the outcome, is what eventually is criticized. What remains unsaid, at the end of the day, will wait for tomorrow.

The Painting

growing restless

blown-out candles

leave behind smoke

rising stories fill the senses

pictures forming

paints are humming

mixed-up hues of

ochre, verde, sepia,

cadmium orange and cyan

hand is trembling

voice is scratchy

heart stops

catch your breathe

close your eyes -handle

of brush levitates

and down splashes your sweat

amongst the tears of increasing years

quiet, taut and invisible

signs of life approaching

nearer the canvas

and soon your caught

ropes and hooks

with a fisher’s net

of scrambled puzzles

non-configured, contorted syllables

poetic verse undressed

and therein lies the bare necessities of The Painting.

Indy Reads

Indy Reads is a nonprofit bookstore run to support literacy programs for adults and families in Central Marion County and the City of Indianapolis.  This was my first visit and well worth a trip from anywhere in Central Indiana.  Paperbacks are $5.99 and hardbacks are $6.99 and they have rare books for sale as well.  Currently (1/12/2018) they have a complete set, five volumes, of Virginia Woolf’s Diary for $60.00.  And they have a great collection of Poetry….

I ended up purchasing some modern poet’s books I had never read before and whose style I enjoyed by a quick glance.

Nicholas Christopher The Creation of the Night Sky
Carolina Ebeid You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior
Chuck Carlise In One Version of the Story
Catherine Barnett the game of boxes

Indy Reads has a quality children’s book section. Do note the children’s books are not organized in any fashion so you should plan on spending some time looking through the shelves of books.

They have a Facebook page, a website, and always need volunteers.  Oh, not to forget, they enthusiastically support local artists and writers with ongoing programs and opportunities to display works for sale.  If you ever find yourself in Indy, do stop by.

A dream project

It really hurts to pack my books away. I dream of August or September when I hope to be in a new house. Make it my home. And put all these books back on a shelf.

And then I hope, a new scene (maybe Boston, hope I have not jinxed my future by saying it out loud) means a new thought process and all these hidden projects sitting on my shelves will come to life.  I have wanted to write children’s books for quite some time.  My favorite children’s illustrator/author is Lois Ehlert.  I love her folk art style and the color that embellishes her pages.  The simple stories she writes captures a child’s imagination.  And mine. (Some day I hope I can organize my collections as she has done below.)


That really could be me pictured in her book.  I spent every summer riding my bike to the library.  I would come home with a pile of books, weighing more than I did, and would sit in my tent in the backyard, reading and dreaming of the world.  To this day, I still have no clue what life means, other than love is precious and relationships are what keeps us from falling too deep into despair.  Oh! if I only practiced my wisdom.  I often find myself sheltering from the world still…. hidden in my writing room dreaming of possibilities.

img_3213-1The above illustration is quite helpful to me.  To plan the whole book at once… ah! makes so much sense!   This will take a whole lot of discipline on my part, as I often write everything without planning.  My learning to become more intentional in creative habits, will be a positive step in my growth as an artist.  (I said it! Am i?)

Although, I do need a sense of mindless space to generate ideas but then will utilize her method to organize my chaos.  🙂

If you have children in your life, I recommend this book highly.  She had an exhibit at the Milwaukee Museum of Art a while back and I was able to purchase it there.  I am sure it is available on Amazon if you are interested.

Happy writing, Jeanne