Yes, it’s been a minute since I’ve written a safe asphyxiation post, but I haven’t abandoned my thirst to dig deeper. I do admit I never finished those blasted questions though. With the passing time several things have transpired which have led me to a conclusion. No… I don’t like that word. Not a conclusion, but things that have led me to my current set of primary thoughts. Things that led me to the statement below:
I am scared to dream.
Even as I type that statement, I want to change it up. For me, that’s a whopper. It’s too present tense. No way that could be my truth. I would much rather be claiming that I have dared to dream and done it well. Then I could tell you a quaint story about how it took place – 
klahoma Style. But, that’s not where I am. My truth is more-so, “I have struggled to survive and done it well.” Continue reading
My mother is an artist. She has dabbled in different mediums over the years, but always settles back to oil on canvas. Over the years I’ve watched her start with a white canvas and create beautiful pieces. The different processes that she uses to create are captivating. Sometimes she works with the paint using a wet-on-wet technique, other times she waits patiently for each layer to dry. It can be days or weeks between layers in order for her to obtain the desired effect. Each completed painting turns out splendid. (Yes, I just wanted to use a word that I remember from my childhood – brings to mind Mary Poppins and the chalk painting scene.)
