- Published on
I'm reading
A history
Of women in power in England
Before Elizabeth I
The injustices these women faced!
Married off as political pawns at birth
Literally entering those marriages at 12
And being carted around Europe
And bearing the children
Of unfaithful
Selfish
Arrogant kings
Imagine being a 12thC princess
No thanks!
But if only
The trampling of women
Were "history"
Today I read
How the upcoming
Children's films
For 2013
Do nothing to promote
The visibility of women
On screen
Yesterday Upworthy published an article
Congratulating
Dove for using
"real women"
In its "real beauty" campaign
Yes, they
weren't anorexic
But where was their cellulite?
Or their stretch
marks?
Or body hair?
Or skin "blemishes"?
Just as photoshopped and
airbrushed as the
Derided Victoria's Secret bikini models
Visible but conformist
To the gaze
That requires
Perfect bodies
The answer?
Speak out!
Say it is wrong!
Point out where the trouble is
But
The Independent
Published an article
About how when women speak out
They are literally told to
Shut up
Today
If you are a powerful woman
You are a witch
A bitch
A liar
Criticized for not wearing makeup
For wearing too much makeup
For being visible at all
I'm sick of
People not treating
Other people
As people
Because of race gender beliefs
Whatever
I'm sick of living
In a culture
So
entrenched for
Centuries
That prizes women for
Their glorified looks
For their silence
I want to live in a world
Where people are people
The end.
In two weeks
Eve Ensler is calling
For people to
Rise
To stand up against
Inequality
And brutality
Towards women
I want to rise
To say
Whoever you are
Whether you identify as man woman or neither
Please can we just work together
To make life on this unstable planet more bearable
More fun
More beautiful
To ensure
Every person
Born to this planet
Has good food
And shelter
And access to music
And culture
And freedom of expression
And freedom to be
Themselves
Perfect
Just as they are
The end.
A history
Of women in power in England
Before Elizabeth I
The injustices these women faced!
Married off as political pawns at birth
Literally entering those marriages at 12
And being carted around Europe
And bearing the children
Of unfaithful
Selfish
Arrogant kings
Imagine being a 12thC princess
No thanks!
But if only
The trampling of women
Were "history"
Today I read
How the upcoming
Children's films
For 2013
Do nothing to promote
The visibility of women
On screen
Yesterday Upworthy published an article
Congratulating
Dove for using
"real women"
In its "real beauty" campaign
Yes, they
weren't anorexic
But where was their cellulite?
Or their stretch
marks?
Or body hair?
Or skin "blemishes"?
Just as photoshopped and
airbrushed as the
Derided Victoria's Secret bikini models
Visible but conformist
To the gaze
That requires
Perfect bodies
The answer?
Speak out!
Say it is wrong!
Point out where the trouble is
But
The Independent
Published an article
About how when women speak out
They are literally told to
Shut up
Today
If you are a powerful woman
You are a witch
A bitch
A liar
Criticized for not wearing makeup
For wearing too much makeup
For being visible at all
I'm sick of
People not treating
Other people
As people
Because of race gender beliefs
Whatever
I'm sick of living
In a culture
So
entrenched for
Centuries
That prizes women for
Their glorified looks
For their silence
I want to live in a world
Where people are people
The end.
In two weeks
Eve Ensler is calling
For people to
Rise
To stand up against
Inequality
And brutality
Towards women
I want to rise
To say
Whoever you are
Whether you identify as man woman or neither
Please can we just work together
To make life on this unstable planet more bearable
More fun
More beautiful
To ensure
Every person
Born to this planet
Has good food
And shelter
And access to music
And culture
And freedom of expression
And freedom to be
Themselves
Perfect
Just as they are
The end.
- Published on
Mary Poppins came into my life
Because she floated daily
Into our loungeroom
The VHS watched and rewound and re-watched
So endlessly
That the tape eventually died
There has always been Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane
The toys have always flown into their cupboards with a click
Julie Andrews has always been Mary Poppins
Years later
On an excursion for Writing History
A pre-honours class in research and writing
The librarian at the State Library has pulled out a stack of papers
Random examples of the items held there
The letters of P.L. Travers
Did you know that the author of the Mary Poppins books,
Upon which the movie was based,
Was an Australian?
That there were disagreements between the
original author and Disney
(Corporation betraying the
Writer)
Graduation, a world trip, heart break, meditation, later
I was running in a park
And found a statue of Mary Poppins
(Unveiled by my aunt!)
To commemorate that P.L. Travers had lived in Sydney
Just a few blocks from my house
Another time
Listening to Mornings with Margaret
A fascinating interview with Valerie Lawson
About the biography she has written
The thought, “I must read that”
Filed away and forgotten
Later, in London
Wandering through the library
And Valerie Lawson’s Mary Poppins She Wrote
Sitting there on the shelf
And from the woods of Virginia I read
P.L. Travers
Never identified as Australian
Had left and, but for one short visit, never returned
Felt New York was her spiritual home
Hated the movie
Never found love
Never found peace
Was eternally searching
Knowing the postscript is delicious
And heart-breaking
And joyous
Where do I fit?
I’m no P.L. Travers
I haven’t even been published yet
And yet something stirs
Identifies
And today,
The sky is blue.
The end.
Because she floated daily
Into our loungeroom
The VHS watched and rewound and re-watched
So endlessly
That the tape eventually died
There has always been Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane
The toys have always flown into their cupboards with a click
Julie Andrews has always been Mary Poppins
Years later
On an excursion for Writing History
A pre-honours class in research and writing
The librarian at the State Library has pulled out a stack of papers
Random examples of the items held there
The letters of P.L. Travers
Did you know that the author of the Mary Poppins books,
Upon which the movie was based,
Was an Australian?
That there were disagreements between the
original author and Disney
(Corporation betraying the
Writer)
Graduation, a world trip, heart break, meditation, later
I was running in a park
And found a statue of Mary Poppins
(Unveiled by my aunt!)
To commemorate that P.L. Travers had lived in Sydney
Just a few blocks from my house
Another time
Listening to Mornings with Margaret
A fascinating interview with Valerie Lawson
About the biography she has written
The thought, “I must read that”
Filed away and forgotten
Later, in London
Wandering through the library
And Valerie Lawson’s Mary Poppins She Wrote
Sitting there on the shelf
And from the woods of Virginia I read
P.L. Travers
Never identified as Australian
Had left and, but for one short visit, never returned
Felt New York was her spiritual home
Hated the movie
Never found love
Never found peace
Was eternally searching
Knowing the postscript is delicious
And heart-breaking
And joyous
Where do I fit?
I’m no P.L. Travers
I haven’t even been published yet
And yet something stirs
Identifies
And today,
The sky is blue.
The end.
- Published on
I grew up with Alanis
Jagged Little Pill was one of the first albums I ever owned
And seeing her live
For the first time
Was exhilarating and touching and strange
It wasn’t just Present Me
Standing in the middle of the crowd
In this vast venue in London
It was thirteen year old me
Standing in the large school hall
Singing “Hand in my Pocket”
And my classmates laughing because I couldn’t swear
And because it was so incredibly, painfully, obvious that I would never, ever, flick a cigarette
I think it was one of the first times I had ever sung solo
And the lady who had asked me to sing was so encouraging
I went home and re-listened to Jagged Little Pill to see what else I could learn
It was twenty-something year old me
Standing in the practise rooms above the Student Union
And channelling my anger at my ex
So I could sing “You Oughta Know”
I knew the song well by then
But the lyrics meant more
It was twenty-something year old me
Walking the Camino
And re-calling that Alanis had done some sort of pilgrimage to India
And had then released Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie
And listening to it again
And as I walked
“Thank u” resonated
And it changed the entire outlook on my life
It was teenage me
Watching Dogma and seeing Alanis play God
(Controversial because in Christianity, God is always a He)
And realizing for the first time
God could be female
And then present day me
With all these memories
From time and space almost forgotten
Standing there surrounded by strangers
And Alanis
As gorgeous and talented as I’d hoped she’d be
But with a twist
This feminine rock chick with biting lyrics and a fierce sound
Had stage fright.
She barely looked at the audience for the first
two songs
She roamed around the stage
Her amazing hair swishing behind her
She settled in though
And from the beginning her voice
Was even more powerful than I thought
Her belt is phenomenal
She didn’t talk between songs
But she would bow to the band members
And call out thank you to the audience
She started out with Woman Down
A call for an end to misogyny
And throughout the night played
guardian, receive, all I really want, you oughta know, hand in my pocket, you learn, head over feet, mary jane, ironic, and uninvited.
The crowd knew every word
We laughed when she updated the lyrics -
"It's like meeting the man of your
dreams
And meeting his husband".
But the highlight
Was the acapella hidden track from Jagged Little Pill
It was almost divine it was so moving
Still as raw and gut wrenching as it was eighteen years ago
I’ve never been brave/stupid enough to walk into an ex’s house
And lie in his bed and cry all afternoon
But I have dreamt it
In the dream I walked through his house
Smelt his cologne
And both in sleep and awake
I have sobbed
And through it all
Alanis.
With her own highs and lows and journies and quests
For forgiveness
For peace
For love
For life.
The end.
Jagged Little Pill was one of the first albums I ever owned
And seeing her live
For the first time
Was exhilarating and touching and strange
It wasn’t just Present Me
Standing in the middle of the crowd
In this vast venue in London
It was thirteen year old me
Standing in the large school hall
Singing “Hand in my Pocket”
And my classmates laughing because I couldn’t swear
And because it was so incredibly, painfully, obvious that I would never, ever, flick a cigarette
I think it was one of the first times I had ever sung solo
And the lady who had asked me to sing was so encouraging
I went home and re-listened to Jagged Little Pill to see what else I could learn
It was twenty-something year old me
Standing in the practise rooms above the Student Union
And channelling my anger at my ex
So I could sing “You Oughta Know”
I knew the song well by then
But the lyrics meant more
It was twenty-something year old me
Walking the Camino
And re-calling that Alanis had done some sort of pilgrimage to India
And had then released Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie
And listening to it again
And as I walked
“Thank u” resonated
And it changed the entire outlook on my life
It was teenage me
Watching Dogma and seeing Alanis play God
(Controversial because in Christianity, God is always a He)
And realizing for the first time
God could be female
And then present day me
With all these memories
From time and space almost forgotten
Standing there surrounded by strangers
And Alanis
As gorgeous and talented as I’d hoped she’d be
But with a twist
This feminine rock chick with biting lyrics and a fierce sound
Had stage fright.
She barely looked at the audience for the first
two songs
She roamed around the stage
Her amazing hair swishing behind her
She settled in though
And from the beginning her voice
Was even more powerful than I thought
Her belt is phenomenal
She didn’t talk between songs
But she would bow to the band members
And call out thank you to the audience
She started out with Woman Down
A call for an end to misogyny
And throughout the night played
guardian, receive, all I really want, you oughta know, hand in my pocket, you learn, head over feet, mary jane, ironic, and uninvited.
The crowd knew every word
We laughed when she updated the lyrics -
"It's like meeting the man of your
dreams
And meeting his husband".
But the highlight
Was the acapella hidden track from Jagged Little Pill
It was almost divine it was so moving
Still as raw and gut wrenching as it was eighteen years ago
I’ve never been brave/stupid enough to walk into an ex’s house
And lie in his bed and cry all afternoon
But I have dreamt it
In the dream I walked through his house
Smelt his cologne
And both in sleep and awake
I have sobbed
And through it all
Alanis.
With her own highs and lows and journies and quests
For forgiveness
For peace
For love
For life.
The end.
- Published on
Imagine realizing that Virigina Woolf
Walked the streets of London
As you are doing
You knew it as a fact in the back of your mind somewhere
Virginia Woolf lived in London
But to suddenly encounter it
To be living it is a whole other matter
To know that she once stood beneath the arches of the British Museum
And looked up at the names inscribed into the walls
And thought,
All this knowledge! How will I ever come to terms with it?
And to sit reading
A Room of One’s Own
Whilst sitting in a room of one’s own!
In London!
Is entirely novel
And wonderful and funny and joyous.
Because six years ago
You read Mrs Dalloway
And looked at women and fiction
And you never even imagined
Even for a moment
That one day
You would have a room of one’s own.
And the best bit?
The glorious romance novel cliche of it?
Reading the writings of Viriginia Woolf
In your very own window seat
Overlooking the garden
Overlooking the rooftops of London
And you are independent
And you are free to speak your mind
And perform upon the stage
And write
And do exactly as you please.
And you thank all the people who have bought you here.
And you thank Virginia Woolf for paving the way for women writers (even if her end was tragic).
And you think of all the women that didn’t, and still don’t, have this privilege.
And you resolve to keep writing. And keep singing. And keep acting. And hope that you too can make a difference.
The end.
Walked the streets of London
As you are doing
You knew it as a fact in the back of your mind somewhere
Virginia Woolf lived in London
But to suddenly encounter it
To be living it is a whole other matter
To know that she once stood beneath the arches of the British Museum
And looked up at the names inscribed into the walls
And thought,
All this knowledge! How will I ever come to terms with it?
And to sit reading
A Room of One’s Own
Whilst sitting in a room of one’s own!
In London!
Is entirely novel
And wonderful and funny and joyous.
Because six years ago
You read Mrs Dalloway
And looked at women and fiction
And you never even imagined
Even for a moment
That one day
You would have a room of one’s own.
And the best bit?
The glorious romance novel cliche of it?
Reading the writings of Viriginia Woolf
In your very own window seat
Overlooking the garden
Overlooking the rooftops of London
And you are independent
And you are free to speak your mind
And perform upon the stage
And write
And do exactly as you please.
And you thank all the people who have bought you here.
And you thank Virginia Woolf for paving the way for women writers (even if her end was tragic).
And you think of all the women that didn’t, and still don’t, have this privilege.
And you resolve to keep writing. And keep singing. And keep acting. And hope that you too can make a difference.
The end.
- Published on
So imagine you have a friend
And she is an artist
And she knows a lot about sustainability
And she studied trash for her thesis
And she inspires you to know more
To learn more
To be better than you are
And she shares her books about recycling and up-cycling and waste reduction and breaking the waste cycle and the one about how it is possible to use human excrement as fertilizer without making people sick
And you see her in action
Teaching young people about sustainability
The table of beads made from rescued factory bits
Rubber tubing and buttons and bolts and nuts and screws
The left overs from other things
That in the current system would just be thrown away
The table with the “guess-who” games on food and energy and water
Did you know that Fiji water comes from a place where the local people have no access to clean drinking water?
The fact sheets and interactive tables
How quickly can you sort the recycling?
Do you know what can be recycled in your town and that it changes from region to region
And country to country?
And it blew you away
Her commitment and her enthusiasm and her passion
And you know she is one of life’s rare people
A sparkling gem of intellect and vigor and joy
And you want to know more, do more
Because you have met her
And shared a few days with her
And been inspired by her
And you know it is possible to live in a world where people care about the resources they are using
And be responsible for the life they are living
Because she showed you it was true
She shone light on that which was less than ideal
And she made you see things in a new way
And you are glad that such people in your life exist
To make you question
To make you see
To give you renewed enthusiasm for this life this path
Of creativity and sustainability and passion
Dear Rachel, thank you for your light and joy
And she is an artist
And she knows a lot about sustainability
And she studied trash for her thesis
And she inspires you to know more
To learn more
To be better than you are
And she shares her books about recycling and up-cycling and waste reduction and breaking the waste cycle and the one about how it is possible to use human excrement as fertilizer without making people sick
And you see her in action
Teaching young people about sustainability
The table of beads made from rescued factory bits
Rubber tubing and buttons and bolts and nuts and screws
The left overs from other things
That in the current system would just be thrown away
The table with the “guess-who” games on food and energy and water
Did you know that Fiji water comes from a place where the local people have no access to clean drinking water?
The fact sheets and interactive tables
How quickly can you sort the recycling?
Do you know what can be recycled in your town and that it changes from region to region
And country to country?
And it blew you away
Her commitment and her enthusiasm and her passion
And you know she is one of life’s rare people
A sparkling gem of intellect and vigor and joy
And you want to know more, do more
Because you have met her
And shared a few days with her
And been inspired by her
And you know it is possible to live in a world where people care about the resources they are using
And be responsible for the life they are living
Because she showed you it was true
She shone light on that which was less than ideal
And she made you see things in a new way
And you are glad that such people in your life exist
To make you question
To make you see
To give you renewed enthusiasm for this life this path
Of creativity and sustainability and passion
Dear Rachel, thank you for your light and joy
- Published on
You are in the middle of the forest. And one night three women appear. One holds drum sticks. One holds a guitar. One holds a bass. They form a band called Hunter Valentine. Three women on stage rocking out. It lifts your heart. It pulses in your soul. They are fantastic. You watch your campers dance around you. A group of campers are allowed on stage to dance. One of the youngest campers runs up to you and tells you that being at camp makes her less afraid of being on stage because she feels safe here. I tell her that she should do it all the time. She tells me the people at school will laugh at her. They probably will. Because people at school are horrible. They are afraid of people who follow their bliss and so we are conditioned to be afraid of ourselves. Dear Camper. People will always tease you. People will
always be afraid and jealous and ready to knock you down. But someday you will find the strength within yourself to say I CARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!! And you will laugh when the girl who bullied you in high school and pushed you into the lake for no reason other than she thought you were tragic “friends” you on Facebook. And people might say "oh, you are just a guidance counselor", but you will know that you make a difference and you love what you do and one day you too will be on stage rocking it out. And you will dance beneath the moon and find kindred spirits and be inspired by powerful women who fill their music with passion and energy and sing love songs about revenge. The end.
always be afraid and jealous and ready to knock you down. But someday you will find the strength within yourself to say I CARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!! And you will laugh when the girl who bullied you in high school and pushed you into the lake for no reason other than she thought you were tragic “friends” you on Facebook. And people might say "oh, you are just a guidance counselor", but you will know that you make a difference and you love what you do and one day you too will be on stage rocking it out. And you will dance beneath the moon and find kindred spirits and be inspired by powerful women who fill their music with passion and energy and sing love songs about revenge. The end.
- Published on
Imagine you are in a place nearly 10,000 miles from where you grew up. And you are surrounded by teenage girls a whole thirteen years younger than you. When you were their age they were babies, some not yet even born. When you wake up in the morning you don’t hear the raucous call of kookaburras, magpies or cockatoos. You hear woodpeckers and the pretty chirps of birds unrecognisable. The girls eat cheerios and eggs and bacon for breakfast. The tea is “er-bal”. They eat fries instead of chips, and drown them in ketchup not tomato sauce. Nearly everything they eat contains high fructose corn syrup. They wear tank tops not singlets. Thongs are considered inappropriate day wear. When it’s “cold out” they wear sweaters, not jumpers. They giggle at your accent and wonder why you call trash “rubbish” and cell phones “mobiles.” But across time and space, you find yourself sitting on a picnic bench on a porch. And together you are writing stories. And you all love to write, and create things, and play music, and dance, and sit under a bright blue sky with trees sparkling in sunlight. And one night you have a slumber party. And you listen to the rustle of chip packets, and smile at their giggling, and look at the world anew again because you remember what it was like to be them, even if you have grown up world's apart. And it fills your heart
with light to know these girls and to share a piece of summer with them.
with light to know these girls and to share a piece of summer with them.
- Published on
Imagine you're running late. And you're a bit stressed. And you're forgetting to breathe. And you see the bus, but you miss it, and you silently scream because of course you missed the bus, you're running late!! ARG! The next bus arrives. You step inside and find yourself in a tinsel forest. The entire bus, every pole and seat is lined with tinsel. There is a Santa statue in front of the ticket machine. The luggage bays are filled with stuffed toys. There is even a Christmas tree. And you find your stress melts away a little bit, because you can't help but smile. And at every stop, more people get on, and they smile too. And it makes you feel nice, and you marvel at the fact that the bus can be a place of such wonder.
And then imagine the girl sitting next to you has a basket full of handmade soft toys. And she looks like a lovely person so you talk to her. And she turns out to be as lovely as she seems. She makes soft toys and is training to be a Kindergarten teacher, and today she is bringing in her craft to share with her class. And you have a conversation all the way to town.
And when you hop off the bus, you feel better. It was worth being late. You got to ride inside a tinsel forest with a friendly fellow human being. If this is the Christmas season, bring it on.
And then imagine the girl sitting next to you has a basket full of handmade soft toys. And she looks like a lovely person so you talk to her. And she turns out to be as lovely as she seems. She makes soft toys and is training to be a Kindergarten teacher, and today she is bringing in her craft to share with her class. And you have a conversation all the way to town.
And when you hop off the bus, you feel better. It was worth being late. You got to ride inside a tinsel forest with a friendly fellow human being. If this is the Christmas season, bring it on.
- Published on
For the past week I have been dutifully turning 4 lumps of curdled milk in an esky (cooler), watching (semi)patiently for signs of mould, and squealing delightedly when I discover a fine furry white layer surrounding two of the lumps. I have not gone mad. I am conducting the most fabulous art/science experiment to come out of north-western France. Cheese-making. Camembert to be precise. These four round discs are the result of a wonderful day standing over a hot stove, stirring 10L of goat’s milk, adding cultures and non-animal rennet, waiting, stirring, waiting some more, more stirring, more waiting, more stirring, a little chopping, some careful pouring, and voila! By Christmas, I will have home-made camembert to devour! And because I did the course with my bestie Len, and my step-mum Meg, I will have not one, but three different camemberts to sample. WIN!
The course was a fabulous day of cheese-making and learning with Karen Borg, at the North Sydney Community Centre. Karen is the owner and creator of Willowbrae Chevre Cheese, a wonderful goat’s cheese enterprise in Wilberforce (north of Sydney). I have been visiting Karen’s stall at the markets for nearly a year now, and I am utterly addicted to her goat’s curd, and marinated fettas. Oh sweet heaven help me, if there is nothing more delicious
than a bit of plain curd on a fresh piece of bread!
On the day of our cheese-making, we learnt the art of camembert and ricotta (you can also sign up for a day of blue cheese or fetta... they are absolutely on the to do list...) Ricotta is ridiculously easy, and utterly delicious when smothered in olive oil and thyme and baked in the oven until golden. While our camembert’s sat transforming from goat’s milk to curds and whey (yes, this is where Little Miss Muffet came from... she was eating curdled milk, and depending on what temperature the milk had been heated to, the beginnings of camembert or ricotta!), we sat on our tuffets feasting on pasta with a light cheesy sauce, rocket salad with pear, marinated fetta balls, and roasted walnuts, sweet potato and broccoli quiche, mini savoury tartlets, and an enormous cheese platter with blue cheese and camembert, and curd and all kinds of wonderful.
It was divine to be sitting in the beautiful surrounds of the North Sydney Community Centre on a bright blue sky Sydney day, learning the craft of something that most people may not even think about, let alone try. Cheese just comes from the supermarket right?! To attempt the science that is cheese-making, to chat with like-minded people about the origins of our food, to enjoy beautiful food and appreciate where every last morsel of it comes from. It may be slow and full of effort, but that’s why I love it. It’s like watching mould grow. A daily practise that with each day brings new surprises and joys. I can’t wait for Christmas!
The course was a fabulous day of cheese-making and learning with Karen Borg, at the North Sydney Community Centre. Karen is the owner and creator of Willowbrae Chevre Cheese, a wonderful goat’s cheese enterprise in Wilberforce (north of Sydney). I have been visiting Karen’s stall at the markets for nearly a year now, and I am utterly addicted to her goat’s curd, and marinated fettas. Oh sweet heaven help me, if there is nothing more delicious
than a bit of plain curd on a fresh piece of bread!
On the day of our cheese-making, we learnt the art of camembert and ricotta (you can also sign up for a day of blue cheese or fetta... they are absolutely on the to do list...) Ricotta is ridiculously easy, and utterly delicious when smothered in olive oil and thyme and baked in the oven until golden. While our camembert’s sat transforming from goat’s milk to curds and whey (yes, this is where Little Miss Muffet came from... she was eating curdled milk, and depending on what temperature the milk had been heated to, the beginnings of camembert or ricotta!), we sat on our tuffets feasting on pasta with a light cheesy sauce, rocket salad with pear, marinated fetta balls, and roasted walnuts, sweet potato and broccoli quiche, mini savoury tartlets, and an enormous cheese platter with blue cheese and camembert, and curd and all kinds of wonderful.
It was divine to be sitting in the beautiful surrounds of the North Sydney Community Centre on a bright blue sky Sydney day, learning the craft of something that most people may not even think about, let alone try. Cheese just comes from the supermarket right?! To attempt the science that is cheese-making, to chat with like-minded people about the origins of our food, to enjoy beautiful food and appreciate where every last morsel of it comes from. It may be slow and full of effort, but that’s why I love it. It’s like watching mould grow. A daily practise that with each day brings new surprises and joys. I can’t wait for Christmas!
- Published on
Amy Krouse Rosenthal is a Chicago based American artist, author, and all round inspiring lady. I've been following her blog for the past couple of months, and much like the beautiful Superforest, can always be trusted to inspire beauty, joy, and lightness in the world. Her recent video Train of Thought made me smile this morning.
Another bit of lovely inspiration is Amy K.R's "7 Things", shared at an independent TED Talk, TEDxWaterloo.
Another bit of lovely inspiration is Amy K.R's "7 Things", shared at an independent TED Talk, TEDxWaterloo.