11/03/2026
I like living in the liminal, in the in betweens.
I like the hour when the lake is still half hidden in mist. Iāll stand at the window with my coffee and watch the far shore come into view a little at a time. Some mornings, thatās my whole ritual.
I look for that feeling when I make art as well. Iāll move a scrap of paper around a painting until it finds its place. Sometimes the part I nearly cover up is the part that makes me want to keep going. Iāve learned to leave a little of the first layer showing.
Maybe thatās why I feel so at home in my solitary spiritual practice. A walk through the garden after everything has gone to seed can feel as sacred to me as lighting a candle. I like to see whatās still standing after the first frost, and what the birds come back for.
Iām growing more comfortable leaving parts of my own life unfinished, too. There are days when I can feel something changing in me and I couldnāt tell you what it is yet. I make art. I open my little shop on Main Street. I come home to the lake. And I let whatever is taking shape have a little more time.
