Category: Beauty and God

You are not a late bloomer – you’re right on time

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What does “late bloomer” even mean? That you used to have a limiting idea about acceptable timelines for your own unique brilliance? Where did you get that idea?

There are SO many places where we get that idea.

Just because you can get an idea, doesn’t mean you have to keep it.

You are not a “late” bloomer if you trust that you are on your own path, and everything is unfolding as it needs to.

You are not a “late” bloomer – you are simply, a bloomer.

You are no less intelligent than a cherry blossom tree.

Maybe we can drop the judgment and expectations of timing. Maybe we can stop comparing our cherry blossoms to dahlias and our dahlias to lilacs.

Because it’s nobody’s business.

You’ll bloom when it’s time for you to bloom. Every time. Again and again.

You are not late.

You are in season.

always return to yourself

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You will quiver and waver. Fly in flock and solo.

You will soar and stumble.

Sometimes all in one day.



Loved One, remember your direction. If nothing else. Realign. Return to you.

As many times as it takes. Until you feel like a tide.

This is a marriage with yourself. This is how it never ends.

Your only job?

Return, return, return.

blue sky with a line of birds flying in a long gorgeous row.

Your broken heart belongs

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Does it know?

I carry this little heart with me. It’s been as far as the pacific shore, and all around Ontario. I like seeing it “in the wild” and taking pictures of its travels.

What if you had a little broken heart you can hold in your hand, as a stand-in for the one you have mending inside your chest? Mine is made of sculpey clay and painted blue. If you made one for yourself, what colour would you want it to be?

If you had a little broken heart of your own, you could do what I do. Carry it with you. Place it in the world. Witness your broken heart as it braves the weather, basks in the light and persists through these days of healing.

Give it some attention. Be your own witness.

Here is my broken heart on a sunny window ledge. Here is my broken heart in a golden bed of leaves. Here is my broken heart bright of the snow. Here is my broken heart in a cozy coffee shop.

When you allow your broken heart to belong, it stops being a barrier. When you allow your broken heart a place in the world, it will stop fighting for one.

And when you allow it to be something beautiful, it will be.