I. I wrote recently about have a room for every love I’ve every loved within me. I feel a shift happening that is coming as a surprise to my long-suffering heart, but I trust it. 

II. Some doors need to be locked. Some keys need to be thrown away, over the shoulder with eyes closed into a fucking swamp so that you can’t go scrambling after them. Some ties need to be cut, as much as I’m loathe to wield the knife, ever. Some things do need to have a full stop added to the end of the sentence. Some situations do not call for grace or doubt or one more fucking tear, or a second thought.

Not everything in our lives deserves that gentle dot dot dot that implies a different ending is possible…

III. He’s right when he says we keep falling into the same hole in the sidewalk, correct in calling it the definition of insanity, but I didn’t dig it. It isn’t my hole. 

I’m crossing the street now. 


IV. There are other rooms that need barricades, chains, hell hounds parked in at the threshold, but the names associated with them aren’t worth mentioning. They know who they are. 

V. This is the place where I purposefully turn away from *waves at all of that* and segue into the next part, where I purposefully turn toward *all of this…*

VI. My kid was over last night for chicken wings, beers, good talks, and music. We do this thing (all my loves and I, actually) where we take turns choosing a song. Bonus points for introducing one another to new music they’ve never heard before, or bringing a touch of nostalgia to the party by playing a blast from the past. This is one of my favourite ways to spend my time. 

We were talking about where he’s at with a specific part of his life, and he was suggesting that there was no way music could express the uniqueness of his situation. I totally proved him wrong. Found two songs that suited his heart frame perfectly. 

He said “YOU GOT ME, MOM.”

Well, yes. Because, I made him. I see him. I get him. I’ve *got him*. 

He’s got me, too. 

Anyway, we somehow journeyed from LP to Mallrats to Paulo Nutini to Green Day to OkGo to Grimes to Annie Lennox to Mozart to Chopin to Debussy to The Art of Noise, and ended the night here. 

Yes, we are nerds. 

VII. I just wanna get groceries. 

VIII. Today is for spending some time getting my ducks in a row for May 1st content so I can feel at ease and ahead of the game. I plan to dig into a class on Procreate, too, so I can start to figure out how to use my shiny new iPad Pro.

I’m not going to do the stairs or any bending or lifting (my lovely kid took care of the garbage and recycling last night so I don’t have to!) so my sacrum can rest and maybe even heal up some. I need a new series to watch while I rest, though.

Any suggestions? 


My nursemaids and constant companions.

IX. Since I suck so hard at writing ‘bios’ and ‘about pages’, I’ve let the lovely Shai Bearden do it for me:

Effy Wild is the artist and teacher behind the Book of Days, Moonshine, A Year Of Rumi, and other mixed media art journaling adventures. She also teaches in collaborative e-courses such as  Life Book 2019.

Between her take-no-shit attitude and gentle matriarchal coven-leading soul, we’ve found it impossible to not fall in love with her. She is both a fierce warrior for women and a soft place to land, splattered in acrylics and sarcasm, topped with a hearty home-cooked meal and a glass of whiskey. 

Read my ‘Sister To Sister’ interview here.

X. I can’t leave you today without mentioning that the Art Bundles For Good After Sale is on for the next THREE DAYS. Get $4000 in art resources for $97! Ends April 29th. 

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