Thursday, Oct 30, 2025 | Art, Big Thoughts, Drawing, Fall, Fire, Friends, Fun, Job, Library, Lists, Peace, Sleep, Source, Spirit, Work, Writing, Yoga |
This is a not going to be a polished post. I’ve been creating an inventory of my interests, needs, weak spots, strengths, etc., in order to articulate, or even just grasp or glimpse what I want to be doing with my days and hours — at this particular stage in my life, this time of aging and flux. So here is a list of goals, the aspirations that I am able to articulate and maybe, with hope and support and gentleness and time, move toward. I’m going to name this list as being things that I want, even though it makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable.
I want …
… a fine life
… relaxation and contentment
… ample rest, a quick and nourished mind
… sweat, adrenalin, endorphins, breath, balance, physical exertion, core strength
… treatment of pain, and ongoing healing for mind and body
… to model and recognize other’s choices that honour: presence, generative actions, creative play, fun and humour, healthy practices and routines
… strong rooted lasting friendships, to be a good friend (by listening, walking with, caring for, giving space to, allowing to be); to let my friends help me too, be honest with them, share my fears sometimes
… strong healthy bonds with my children and other family members, no matter my role (as mother, daughter, spouse, sister, etc.)
… to live with creative bursts without floating into self-indulgence and disconnection, without being self-serving
… to be someone people feel comfortable and happy spending time with; to put others at ease
… to inhabit and build inviting spaces where people get to be themselves, feel welcome to be relaxed, to come and go, rest, laugh, talk, eat good food (as at the cottage); cry, laugh; feel so held and loved—this is aspirational, but I’d love to be that person for others
… to conceive of, surrender to, and finish ambitious projects (like novels) – for the joy of discovery day by day, and for the sense of accomplishment when all the threads have been woven together; for therapeutic reasons, and to explore what’s underneath and otherwise invisible and unknown and mysterious within my soul and body and the collective life force, because it feels necessary and relieving and cleansing and satisfying and good, and because writing is my way in, the practice that I’ve practiced more than any other
… to not behave like a martyr or fixate on sacrifice; surrender is a different beast
xo, Carrie
PS The watercolour is my version of characters from The Day My Mom Came to Kindergarten, written by Maureen Fergus with illustrations by Mike Lowery, which I read to classrooms in September. Most every week, I add a new character to the library’s story-time bulletin board – from a book we’ve read the previous week. (See below.) This is a practice I’ll miss and be seeking to replace when I move on from the library job.
Sunday, Dec 8, 2024 | Art, Confessions, Drawing, Friends, Manifest, Reading, Source, Space, Writing |
Day 8 Prompt
Draw an object from nature. Describe what it’s telling you?
Notes: This plant in my office, a succulent, reminds me of a plant at my brother and sister-in-law’s farmhouse, where I’ve gotten to go and write sometimes with my writing group. This plant reminds me of friendship and mutual support, and laughter, and how meaningful it feels to pause and breathe and listen to each other’s stories. Meaningful, too, to feel cared for and cherished and seen. I judge myself harshly and crave recognition (not all the time, but these temptations slip into my mind, these habits and patterns of thinking are hard to break). I long to be loved for my imperfect self and I long to be my best self as often as possible. Some days, this feels harder than others. But here is this plant. I’ve over-watered it and let it dry out way too much, and nevertheless it rewards my imperfect attention by continuing to exist. I am reassured by its presence on my desk.
xo, Carrie
Saturday, Dec 7, 2024 | Adventure, Art, Current events, Drawing, School, Spirit, Success, Work |
Day 7 Prompt
Draw & describe yourself through someone else’s eyes.
Notes: Rushed and messy, just like today. Amazed I even got it done, just like today. Grateful for the small acts of kindness I saw reflected and refracting back through this brief but powerful exercise, just like today. Materials: crayons and black pen. Songs: “Delicate Transitions” by Gavin Luke and “World Without Tears” by Lucinda Williams.
xo, Carrie
Friday, Dec 6, 2024 | Art, Drawing, Organizing, Peace, Play, Spirit, Winter |
Day 6 Prompt
Draw & write. What’s in your pocket and why?
Notes: Items are from the pockets of my pink ski jacket. Materials used: black pen, crayon, watercolours. Songs included “Landslide” by the Chicks, “Quiet – Stripped” by MILCK, and “Battlefields” by Twin Flames. I’ve been spending way more time, proportionally, on the drawing piece of each “pause”; drawing and colouring is such a peaceful activity. I wrote the answer to why these items might have been in my pockets on the following page (approximately 5 minutes; no music while writing).
xo, Carrie
Thursday, Dec 5, 2024 | Art, Drawing, Meditation, Peace, Space, Spirit |
Day 5 Prompt
Draw while listening to whale song — eyes open or closed. Free-write for 5 mins.
Note: Listen to Humpback whale song by scrolling down this wikipedia link. Materials: black pen, crayons, water colours. Music: whale song. I wrote about what it feels like when someone doesn’t have time for my whimsy and playfulness, and I see myself through their eyes. I understand their impatience, even their disgust at my time-wasting; and yet, the delight of doing projects (like this one — of my own invention, for no super-obvious practical reason) carries me along. I notice when what I’m doing isn’t landing. And I’m patient. Most of the things that matter to me take time to unfold. Lots of time. It takes time to go deep. But like the whale, I need to surface too, and breathe in the world.
xo, Carrie
Wednesday, Dec 4, 2024 | Art, Drawing, Fire, Manifest, Play, Source |
Day 4 Prompt
Draw & write. Something you asked for and did not receive. (Do you still want it?)
Notes: pen & watercolour; songs: “Basement Apartment” by Sarah Harmer and “Atlantic,” by The Weather Station. The text reads a bit like a series of grievances, which was not where I’d originally imagined this going. But I got somewhere interesting. The final scrawl on the page reads: I asked to not have to ask — and that did not happen.
xo, Carrie
