Personal lettering, professional thought leadership, community resources
In November I try to slow down a little and be more grateful. Being in a perpetual state of Thanksgiving sounds arduous to start, but rewarding to succeed.
I recently read a New Yorker article about Thoreau's Walden which reframed my context of it. Sounds like Thoreau might have wished his ideals more than he acted upon them. But his sentiments are none-the-less still ponderable.
I'm not a big fan of Halloween (Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday), but I'm completely in love with October.
Today is my 8th wedding anniversary. To date, it is still one of the best decisions I've ever made (and the best party I've ever thrown).
I'm a pretty big fan of new beginnings, clear outlooks, endless possibility. Which means I really like the arrival of fall, with all of its promise and opportunity. (Wool sweaters, new school supplies, apple cider, and pumpkin patches aren't bad either.)
And as the leaves fall, autumn is a beautiful lesson in letting go.
In September of 1849, Harriet Tubman escapes to freedom. In September of 2015, the first black woman to receive an Emmy for best leading actress quotes her in acceptance speech. #harriettubman lives on.
Some Monday truth from Maya Angelou.
Headed out early this morning. Back tomorrow.
Enjoying some time at the drawing table with my son on a Saturday afternoon.
Quote by Pablo Picasso.
Sometimes, when I don't get any sleep from staying up with an adorable and helpless baby, I recite this poem to myself. It's been one of my favorites since I learned it in high school at Cross Country running camp, from an English teacher coach. It applies to so many life scenarios, and contains such familiar imagery. Amazing that Frost wrote it in minutes after spending a long winter's night toiling over another (much less remembered) poem.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
The best part of watching a baby grow is seeing a personality develop. So far this little dude is aptly named. Always full of smiles.
Every Independence Day I try to take a few moments to think about the original Patriots, and how they founded a nation (after all, it's a federal holiday that asks us to do just that). I'm always amazed and inspired by the fact that those who signed the Declaration of Independence could be referred to as "those young punks". The average age was around 40, some of them still teens and twenty-something's. Puts into perspective some of the rash decisions of youth - all of mine pale in comparison to building a sovereign nation.
Had some time to myself today. Doesn't happen very often.
