My Lucky Three • by Susan Tuttle

One
In my pre-teen years things changed for me. I shed my unique, tomboyish, free-spirited creative persona and began to feel like less inside and out — not good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. My confidence and sense of self-worth drained away and there I was, standing on the outside looking in. I wanted so badly to fit in, to be accepted. It was at this time that I auditioned for the New Jersey Youth Symphony on my flute. I was chosen to be one of the three flutists in the group and it immediately changed my life — I had finally found my tribe. At once I felt at home, empowered and confident as I made beautiful music with talented young people and connected with them through friendship, cultural experiences, and conversations that I will never forget. It was a relief to find friends who also felt like outsiders in their hometown schools and who understood why I would shed tears upon listening to any piece of music conducted by Leonard Bernstein. I felt strong again, like I really mattered and had something special inside of me. This miracle enabled me to connect with my true spirit. Art saves.

Two
On April 13, 1996, my life changed. I practically walked away from a car accident that, according to the laws of physics, would have killed me. It was not my time to go; I was meant to be here. I felt incredibly loved on that day — wrapped in the protective arms of spirits that kept my body from being crushed. I would not trade the experience for anything. During my healing a seed began to bloom, and it has been flourishing ever since. I began to explore the visually artistic side of me by doing charcoal sketches of objects around me. My explorations evolved into painting furniture I found on curbsides of my Boston neighborhood and creating abstract paintings. In my early thirties I dove into making mixed-media collage and altered art. Today, in my late thirties, I am focusing on digital photography and digital art. Art saves.

Three
I suffered five miscarriages before having my firstborn. It was a dark time in my life and I only felt safe, happy, and “normal” whilst painting — making art was my escape and provided a safe haven in which to work out my problems and difficult emotions. I learned that I could hold both joy and pain at the same time. Art saves.

Susan Tuttle is a photographer, mixed-media, and digital artist who resides in Maine. She has published two books: Exhibition 36: Mixed-Media Demonstrations + Explorations (North Light Books, December 2008), and her most recent, Digital Expressions: Creating Digital Art with Adobe® Photoshop® Elements, a technique-based publication on digital art (North Light Books, available May 2010). Susan is a frequent contributor to Stampington & Company publications and other mixed-media art books. You can visit her site at ilkasattic.com and her blog at ilkasattic.blogspot.com through which she is offering online digital art workshops.

My Artistic Heart as a Mother • by Shona Cole

October 1, 2005: For the first time in my life I am still. For a full 20 minutes. No kids, no questions, no noise except the hum of the MRI machine. Nothing to do but reflect. Reflect on how I came to be in here.

I always had an artistic heart. I had some vague dreams of being an author, an artist, a poet, an actress, even a dancer. But I never really pursed my dreams. I focused on academics instead. I got a master’s degree in psychology and worked in the social services. Doing art was something I had dabbled at, something I didn’t take too seriously.

When I became pregnant with my first child I rediscovered my love of painting and discovered crafting, but it took a long time before I learned to truly how important it was to me and my sense of well being.

Finding my Footing as a Mother
Once I had my son somewhere deep inside me longed to be a good momma. So I poured myself into learning the ropes of motherhood. I read, no, I studied books and magazines on parenting. I talked to other mothers, asked questions about how to schedule feedings, how to educate my child, how to interpret developmental milestone and more. I studied my kids’ personalities and behaviors and adjusted my parenting strategies accordingly. I carved out a vision of what motherhood looked like for me.

All of this took time.

As I found my footing as a mother, I realized that I had neglected me — my dreams and desires and wishes, vague as they were had been cut adrift. I can’t blame being a mom on my neglect of self; it was my faulty goal planning and unrealistic vision of what it means to be successful that hindered me. What do I mean by that?

Well, I had the idea in my mind that to achieve anything significant meant that I had to devote hours and hours of time focusing on achieving my dream. I looked back at my life before kids and saw that I had not really achieved very much anyhow, so now with even less free time, my dreams seemed even further away. So there was I alone all day with screaming kids, or so it seemed to me, and nothing to look forward to.

I got depressed. Then I ended up in that MRI machine with symptoms that the doctor said had a psychological cause! This was serious. My neglect of self was making me appear ill.

My husband started taking the kids out on Sunday evenings, leaving me with time to think and plan alone, uninterrupted. In that space I determined to revisit my old vague arty goals and dreams and find a way to pursue them without taking my eye off my desire to be a good mom.

Wow, tall order!

Loving my Kids even more with my Art
At first I had low expectations, but any little thing I did was better than nothing — so I started doing small amounts of artwork in the evenings. I started staying up late and trying out all the techniques in mixed media books and magazines. I made Somerset Studio magazine challenges my deadlines and begun sending my art in to the magazine.

Bit by bit I was creating artwork that I was pleased with, that filled my home and drew positive feedback from others. Each creation was a tangible affirmation, a mini triumph. All this I achieved by adding small bits of art to my life every day. It kept me focused, content, and busy. It gave me something to look forward to. I was beginning to feel the sweet balance between being a good momma and a fulfilled creative person. Today, my artistic mommy career is in full swing. I have learned to integrate my art into my life and mom duties. I have not struggled with depression ever since I made the choice to follow this path. And every day I look at my kids through the lens of artistic impressions and can love them even more! That is why I am a firm believer in the CRESCENDOh vision.

Shona Cole is a mom of five children under the age of 10. She is the author of The Artistic Mother — A Practical Guide to Fitting Creativity into your busy Life, which she wrote for moms like her who are choosing to find some artistic “me” time. She hopes you will check it out at amazon.com/Artistic-Mother-Practical-Fitting-Creativity/dp/1600613489/ref=nff_at_ep_dpi_1. You can also visit her at her blog, An Artful Life, at shonastudio.blogspot.com.

Painting my Way to a Happy Place • by Kelly Snelling

Way, way back, up against the very back wall of my mind, behind the piles of laundry, kids’ snacks, unreturned library books, and marriage vows, sits the part of me from childhood that believed I am invincible. It has always been there. “Live a life of adventure.” “Rush forward into the unknown.” “Jump first.” These were the notes written on the index cards for my life preparation from birth.

What I didn’t realize was that, for each of us, there may come a day when the bottom drops out of the world. Invincibility becomes a word in the dictionary instead of a magical cape of imagined protection. This life-altering event could happen in a myriad of terrible forms, none of which are happy to think about. But life, the good parts and the tragic parts, happens. And what you do with it after that defines who you are and what you are made of.

The Event that Altered my Life
For me, it was cancer. I found a lump in my breast after twacking my boob with the mop handle while cleaning the kitchen floor one Christmas Eve morning (I do not recommend your trying this at home). My doctor called me at three o’clock the following Friday afternoon to tell me that it was cancer. I was sitting in my truck in the parking lot of a CVS drugstore with my four-year-old and eight-year-old sons. The mile I drove to my house after that phone conversation was one of the most gut-wrenching trips I’ve ever known. I refused to react in front of my children. I had to keep it all glued together. I could not let myself be frightened. Somehow, I managed it during that long mile and for the next year.

During the months of removing cancer from my body, I had a lot of people, prayer, and processes that helped me continue to keep it all from falling apart. Painting was surely a saving grace for me. After my mastectomy, the doctor told me I couldn’t so much as turn a doorknob with my right hand. I had a tube coming from the incision that collected fluid into a Jackson Pratt bulb. If I used my hand, my body wouldn’t heal properly or on schedule. The doctor would know this because there would be more fluid in the bulb. Someone smart came up with this system of checks and balances. With two little boys, I needed my right hand. And, sadly, it also meant I couldn’t paint.

The Paint that Freed Me from Worry
But, I knew if I didn’t paint, I would come close to letting my mind run down the dark and scary road that ended with me dead a dozen different and terrible ways. I absolutely positively could not let my mind take that turn. I desperately needed to paint. It was a balm to me. It kept me focused on something outside of myself that brought joy. It allowed me to pour out all that was going on underneath the surface of my bandages and scars. I really needed to paint.

So, I painted with my left hand. No one said that I could not paint with my left hand. And, as I am not left-handed, it took a completely different sort of concentration to get the paint onto the canvas. Painting with my left hand freed me from worry. It distracted me. It allowed me to take the images I had in my head and turn them loose. It helped me to focus on the current moment, which was all I could control in my life at that time. It got me through without having to go down that scary road in my head.

Slowly, my invincibility is waking up again. There is nothing like the thought of not having life as you know it to make you live it anew with vibrant gusto.

I hope that is something you never have to do. I pray the bottom never, ever drops out for you. But, just in case, be ready to paint, knit, sculpt, or dance your way to a happy place, even if only for a brief reprieve. Finding your passion and reveling in it, especially during dark days, can renew your spirit and remind yourself of the possibilities of living a life as an invincible being.

To learn more about Kelly Snelling, visit her Web site at soulhumming.typepad.com.

A Crossroads that Changed my Life • by Colette Copeland

A few years ago I found myself at a crossroads faced with a major decision. My day job as a magazine journalist was eliminated in a series of sudden cuts and left me in shock and a little lost. When the shock abated, I went on an ultimately fruitless search for new work. At one point, two paths opened up in front of me: give in to panic and take anything I could get even if I hated it, or calm down and make the right choice for me no matter what the cost. Against all conventional wisdom, I chose to do my art full-time. It has meant sacrifice and doing without, but it saved my spirit. Because ... ART SAVES.

To learn more about Colette Copeland, visit her Web site at a-bird-in-the-hand.blogspot.com.

Creativity Opens Doors • by Christine Mason Miller

In 2004, I was working with a major craft company as a consultant. They were looking to tap into a younger market with their craft products (paints, glazes, stamps — you name it, they had it) and I was researching the crafting movement at the time, which was beginning to really take off.

That summer, I partnered up with a friend to pitch an idea to them, which they loved, offering us a licensing contract less than 24 hours after our presentation. Our line was going to be the centerpiece of their new marketing direction and they were planning on a big splash at the 2005 National Stationery Show.

That December, my partner moved to another state and took a full-time job, and our partnership fell apart. The contract was lost, and a year of my life’s work was immediately wiped away. I was devastated.

I was ready to quit — as in QUIT being an artist — and the only thing that saved me was the belief that this loss had to mean something better lay in store for me, and that is when I started delving into mixed-media work. I literally sat down in the middle of my studio on a giant canvas with a slew of art supplies all around me, and I started trying different things. I had my first show of mixed-media work in the fall of 2005, and have organized more than a dozen shows since.

My willingness to trust that one creative failure was going to open the door to another creative path, and to simply get to work creating, was what saved me. It is a lesson I will never, ever forget.

Learn more about Christine Mason Miller at her Web site, christinemasonmiller.com.

Art is Love • by Colette George

Art has been a powerful ally, not only in my vocation but in my life — a reliable vehicle to hope, forgiveness, and community. I often begin working through a situation within my imagination much like an archaeologist might explore a dig. Because of this inward searching — along with trust, a reclaimed faith, and the belief that the best outcome for all is possible and imminent — a tiny notion, almost imperceptibly and so tenderly, will spring up, catching me so unaware, yet again, of its sheer newness and originality. If I’m not careful this fragile wisp will dissipate immediately. Once this thought, co-created with the creative force of life, is captured it becomes mine to express, whether in colors, texture, words, or musical notes.

Hidden Miracles
I’ve learned that a well-developed imagination can mend a broken heart and that miracles often await behind an ugly exterior. Miracles can cloak themselves in any number of unlikely garments such as despair, depression, anger, frustration, poverty, illness, or terror. A miracle in this garb unpredictably tries to woo us, to beckon us — through need — to investigate with the tools of imagination. And then, sometimes very quickly, sometimes slower (but even that I maintain is negotiable as long as the imagination is involved) a miracle comes that’s so bright, so honest, so original, so multifaceted, so loving, and so perfectly fits every person involved.

As a child I was victim to some years of spiritual abuse as well as other abuses. Because of this my imagination used to mirror my fears and terrify me. Creativity and imagination had no place in the church I was attending (my last bastion of hope) and this sent me down a path of sadness and despair. In spite of that, the growth and development of my imagination has been shaping since I was very young. My fourth grade teacher Ms. Bordeaux, in one simple act, regularly kept me after school to cut grass — for the bulletin board. For years I was certain she loved the special way only I could cut the green paper. She was reaching out to me, validating my heart and creativity. And there were others. Here is a song I wrote to illustrate these feelings:

Looking back on life as a child I see now your hand
you always loved me
Even way back then loneliness came to steal you away from me
but you always loved me

(Chorus)
In words that were spoken
strange gifts and tokens came to me.
Voices of strangers, bold re-arrangers
came to me.

A lady across the way with only kind things to say
and words to live by
and teachers who knew found goodness within you
tried to answer why

In words that were spoken,
strange gifts and tokens came to me.
Voices of strangers, bold re-arrangers
Came to me

Now little girl look to heaven and ask the question:
are you near me?
Wouldn’t it be something? Oh wouldn’t it be something!
if you were here with me

In words that were spoken
strange gifts and tokens came to me.
Voices of strangers, bold re-arrangers
came to me.

As a child.

(Lyrics from “As a Child” by Colette George, c. 1996)

Cathedral of Dreams
The Cathedral of Dreams blog was created as a place of safety and celebration for myself and other like-minded individuals. It is a very real meeting place where hopes and dreams and desires and faith are rescued through love aligned with the power of the imagination. I now consider it my life’s work to redefine the role of creativity in a traditional faith and to help others transcend the stains of spiritual abuse. When activating love’s imagination toward art or solving life’s problems the creative power of the universe makes itself known: alive, well, and loving.

For me, art has become a private guardian of my dreams, a protecting hedge, and a God-given liberation. Through art I found home, or it found me. Grace beyond measure, love beyond comprehension. And so if you ask me if Art Saves, I’ll say emphatically yes. Why? Because art is love. And love saves.

I sought my soul
my soul I could not see
I sought my God
but God eluded me
I sought my brother
and found all three.

(William Blake, c. 1700)

Learn more about Colette George at her blog, cathedralofdreams.blogspot.com.

The Career I Didn’t See But Always Knew • by Natasha Burns

I come from a family of dressmakers, shoemakers, quilters, musicians, knitters, fashion designers, and textile designers. How could I ever have grown up to do anything other than something art related? This daughter/granddaughter/cousin/niece of those talented people always had the best teachers and the most encouraging and supportive people around.

As an only child, I found ways to keep myself busy that always involved paper and pencils. I’d write and illustrate stories. I’d make dolls out of milk cartons, with scarves my mother taught me to knit for them. I’d make dresses for my Cabbage Patch Doll under the watchful eye of my “Nonna” (the Italian dressmaker). I’d make shoes from leftover scraps of “Nonno’s” leather that was left in his workshop, untouched, after he passed away. And I’d play the piano every day.

I knew from age 10 which university and which degree I was going to get. At age 21, I achieved that goal, and earned that very degree. And after a while working in the fashion industry, in a job that was far from creative, I became tired of what I was doing. I was stressed and nervous and became jaded, negative, sarcastic, and cynical. Where had my creative dreams gone?

Beginning Again
Expecting our child changed the focus, away from stress, and onto the more important things in my life. Having a child and a wonderful husband who worked hard so I could stay home with our boy gave me the opportunity, once he was a little independent, to start creating again. It felt a little odd, not having the restrictions that my job once had. It was liberating and scary at the same time, being able to paint, draw, make jewelry, and sew. It was amazing to me that, through the magic of the Internet, I could even sell these things I was painting, drawing, making, and sewing. It opened up a world of possibilities for me. I was pleasantly shocked, and excited, that my art was on its way to being hung or enjoyed by someone, somewhere, on the other side of the world. Wow.

It was as though there had never been a time in my life when I wasn’t creating. I often wonder how I ever allowed myself to stop creating — when the job I had was supposed to be a way that I could have a career and be creative with it.

Before I knew it, I had a new career. Only, I should have realized, it wasn’t really new at all. It was always inside me, waiting for a time when I was ready to see and realize that. I was a mother, and an artist.

Art Saves.

Learn more about Natasha Burns at her Web site natashaburns.com.

Art: A Gift from God • by Amy Hanna

I wish I had known that art was an option when I was younger — I craved to be lost in something my whole young adult life but never quite knew what that was. My search led me on a ton of adventures filled with traveling and exploring. The only thing I lacked was my own personal confidence to explore my inner artist. I was however very familiar with the artists surrounding me and their delivery of their passion. I had loved nothing more than visiting local art shops in cities that I traveled to and admiring other artists’ creations.

A Buried Spirit
It was not until I was a mother that I let go of my passions and dedicated my life to being a good mother. After my son had turned three I finally felt the excitement to dwell back into my passions and I then decided to return to college to pursue my love of interior design. I was really loving the journey it was taking me on when suddenly I found myself pregnant with my twin girls. Wow this was a big shocker for me — I was finally at a place where I thought I would be able to have both motherhood and a career. I really found myself shutting down creatively when this happened. That is when God placed a very special person in my life, my friend Pam Garrison, who asked me a life-changing question one day: “Why is a person as creative as yourself not creating?”

Wow, nobody ever asked me that before, especially someone who I respected on a creative level. I had buried my spirit so far down deep inside myself, yet she saw in me what made my heart dance. She shared with me that if she did not create she would crawl into the fetal position and die. Wow, that question started to haunt me. That is when my journey really began ...

Digging Deep for Art
I had been collecting jewelry pieces from two fabulous jewelry artists, Eric Silva and Julie Wolfe. The two of them represented three things that I love in jewelry: mechanics, movement, and spiritualism. Julie was the first and only person that I knew of who incorporated any vintage religious pieces into her wonderful jewelry. Eric has such a magical way of making metal spin and twist. He uses raw stones in such a beautiful way. So I also give them credit on my personal journey of finding one of my passions.

Looking back, opening that door was like opening up a floodgate. God has blessed me so much since then. One thing that I had to come to terms with early on was that I did not own my creativity — it was a gift from God, and he intended for me to share it, even if all I did was reach out to other women and give them the gift that Pam gave to me: the approval to dig down deep and allow the creative juices to flow and share. Art is a beautiful thing; it connects spirits and souls, it mends broken hearts and wings, and it makes your heart race and your spirit soar. It is a beautiful gift from God that makes this earth a beautiful place to live in.

Learn more about Amy Hanna at her blog, amyhanna.typepad.com.

True Success • by Traci Bautista

We all have a calling, a passion, a gift that defines us and fuels our soul. For me that is the gift of being an artist, a creative spirit with the passion to share it with others. I have always been “artsy” from a young age, making things, from selling them at craft fairs to designing my own clothes. So it was natural for me to go to college and major in design. I had a plan, after graduating. I would get a job as a graphic designer and climb the corporate ladder — and that’s just what I did.

For seven years, I was a slave to Silicon Valley, a successful graphic designer. I worked my way up to being a Director of Marketing for various high tech start-ups as well as corporate giants like IBM. I had a very stable, high-paying CORPORATE job with full benefits … what most would say the “ideal” career. I traveled the world to manage events and teams, played in work-sponsored golf tournaments, and built Web sites for big brands like Animal Planet. But I found myself questioning what I was doing in an office, wearing business suits, sitting in meetings all day, and working in a job that I wasn’t passionate about.

Taking the Leap
In 2001, I decided to quit my job with no real plan of action and take the leap into a full-time art career. I didn’t really know what that would consist of; all I knew was that I wanted to teach art to kids and make art every day. So I became a traveling art teacher, finding any art teaching job I could. I worked in the local school district teaching art history, created summer fashion camps, worked as an artist-in-residence teaching art journaling to third and fourth graders, and taught digital art in after-school programs. When I walked through the doors and saw kids’ bright smiles and heard their laughter as they would say, “Ms. Bautista’s here, we get to make art!” I knew I had finally found my calling and had a job that allowed me to wake up saying “I LOVE what I do.” I knew I had made the right decision.

The Perfect Career
ART SAVED me from conforming to what I thought was the “ideal/safe” job and helped me build and create the “perfect” career as an artist. Being an artist has led me through an amazing journey that is continually changing and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It helped me discover that it’s important to have passion for what I do. Leaving something that is stable and taking a big risk to the unknown is scary, but I truly believe that if you are doing what you LOVE only the best things follow … that is TRUE success.

Learn more about Traci Bautista at treicdesigns.com.

Art’s Power to Transform • by Anna-Marie Still

Little did I know that when I started teaching workshops and classes “for fun” that I would witness how, in the simple moment that it takes to move a rubber stamp from an ink pad to a piece of cardstock, the power of art has the ability to transform a self-professed uncreative person into a proud artist.

Even more amazing to me than that, however, is how I’ve seen that power spill over into so many other areas of these proud artists’ lives. I’ve witnessed a girl, who used to take medication for anxiety, grow into a confident woman in a span of six months — who turned around and taught and encouraged others to be confident in their own art. I’ve received phone calls from those bursting with happy news of how art has changed not only them, but their circumstances. The one call in particular that may have touched me the most came from a young, single mother who attended a few workshops of mine before becoming a demonstrator for a creative direct sales company. The call went like this:

“Anna-Marie! I’m so excited! My car just died!”

“Okay … why are you so excited about that?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I don’t have to worry where the money is coming from to pay for the repairs!”

Emotionally, financially, or otherwise, I’ve seen a lot of changes in people over the past seven years, all because of art. In most cases, I’m not even talking about “hanging in a gallery masterpiece” art — I’m talking about the look on someone’s face when they hand stamp a simple greeting card for the first time. You literally witness that person’s self-worth increase by leaps and bounds in an instant. Amazing!

Finding my own Purpose
As much as I’ve loved teaching and encouraging so many over these years, lately I’ve been feeling dry and uninspired and have been wrestling on and off with my own purpose. Let me try to explain ...

I’ve been contemplating: Where did this intrinsic need (in me) come from to deliver what my audience needs? And why has it overruled my simple, personal need to create? I realized that I’ve been so moved by my students and workshop/conference attendees that I’ve inadvertently suppressed my personal need to create. You see, everything I’ve done/created over the past seven years has been about/for others.

When I think about me, when I think about “my” art, I recall all the paintings I did in the ’90s and how I never really showed them to anyone — no reason in particular comes to mind, I just didn’t. My husband recently handed me one of my old paintings. I was actually shocked that we still had it. When we moved four years ago, I thought I had thrown all of my paintings away. Not for any other reason really than the fact that we were moving and I was purging and they didn’t apply to the type of art I was teaching at the time. When he handed it to me, I was reminded that I had thrown the others away and thought, in hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have done that.

Last night, I heard this quote, “I think it’s really hard to drag something out of yourself and show someone,” and I thought … maybe that applies to me more than I want to admit. When I teach, it’s all about my students and their art, not me at all.

My own personal art has been in my brain for so long — I guess compartmentalized, but because it is there, to me, it exists in the world. My concepts and my ideas have been content swimming around safely right there. A few months ago, I took some time, wiped my desk clear of everything that had to do with everyone else, and I painted … just for me. I had this burning desire to get at least some of it out of my head.

This work is unbelievably, undeniably, without question, the most satisfying thing I have ever created. I am so moved by it, I feel like I want to shout from the rooftops and share it with the world.

It is now that I realize the past seven years have been much like being on an airplane in an emergency situation. Instead of putting on my own oxygen mask first before helping the other passengers with theirs, I did exactly what the stewardess warns against. While the “rush” of helping others can sustain you for a little while, at some point you do need your own oxygen supply. When I allowed myself to breathe in deeply, alone, without the thought of anyone else’s needs, and feed my need to create, my lungs were finally filled! I had no idea … or it’s just been so long, I’ve simply forgotten.

I don’t think that I could ever turn my back on creative teaching opportunities. The first one I can recall came when I was in 7th grade and I taught a puppet-making workshop to several rounds of 12th grade seniors. Even though I have never considered myself to be instinctually creative like so many others that I admire, I have found that whether I’m teaching a small group of seven or when I get up on stage and speak to a crowd of 7,000 — I know in my heart that I was meant to be there as a motivator and encourager, and the gentle guide some people need to grow. It feeds them, and in turn, their energy feeds me.

Seeking a Balance
The trick now, in light of my epiphany, will be to find the balance between the two. I must be sure to place proper worth on and set aside time for my personal need to create, without any boundaries, limitations, or expectations from anyone. It is then and only then will I be at my best to help others.

By no means do I have any regrets in how my last seven years have been spent. I could have written a very different ART SAVES story, recounting many travels and personal growths that I have been privileged to experience as a result of this journey that would have put a completely different spin on all of this — so pretty you could wrap it up and put a shiny bow on top. But I have to be true to myself and the true purpose and vision that Jenny is seeking with her need to cultivate CRESENDOh.

There is no denying I am “in it” right now. The dissecting part isn’t always pretty. However, as I step out in a new direction with new focus, I am committed to being authentic and keepin’ it raw and real. I feel as though my ART SAVES story is just being written now and the realization and acceptance of that fact is so freeing it fills me with a light-heartedness that I’ve never known.

Learn more about Anna-Marie Still at annamariestill.com, or contact her at annamariestill.com.