4/365- Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Not All Who Wander Are Lost- Part of the Get on the Road Series

“They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars—on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.”

Robert Frost; The Poetry of Robert Frost

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Oh, how deliciously true these words ring..."my own desert places."

Do you have desert places inside of you? I do.

Until tomorrow...

xo

Migrate to the Sea- Get on the Road Series 2

Migrate to the Sea- Get On the Road Series 2
Digital Painting/Pastel based on a public domain photograph by David Dalese on Pixabay

"I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;"

-John Masefield; Sea Fever 

The other day I had an interview for a publication that will be featuring my art. The process of being interviewed, while pleasant, was very unsettling. If you know me it is no secret that I like to be in control. I have, over the years with the help of therapy, gotten better with giving up control, but not being in control of telling my own story really unsettles me. I prefer a publication to ask me for a bio rather than be interviewed. I want control of telling my own story, not leave it in the hands of how well I convey and how well someone else interprets my answers.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my conversation with the author very much but it felt so informal, like I was talking to a friend, rather than an official interview. With my sometimes still difficult aphasia due to Lyme, I don't always say what I want to say clearly. Prior to the interview I had preconceived ideas about what question would be asked and about how the interview would go. It didn't turn out that way at all.

However, it was a special surprise when I felt so free and open with the interviewer. She was a lovely woman who connected with me on a deeper level than I was expecting and we had a lot in common. We even agree that we should meet for lunch sometime in September to talk some more on a personal level rather than a professional level. So, while I will be unsettled until I can see the final written product of the interview (which will be out October), I was pleasantly surprised at the level of connection and understanding I felt from the writer. That was the shining silver lining in this experience.

Have a fabulous Tuesday! Today is my last full day here in Florida. Brenna will be busy with orientation activities today, so I may see her during a lunch break and possibly this evening, but otherwise things are wrapping up for me here. I will miss her so much but she is ready to fly! And I am ready to get back to a new normal back at home. I miss the rest of my family and I miss my own bed.

Until tomorrow...

xo

Individually, We Are One Drop

We Are One Drop- Photo by Brenna Grumbach; Edited by Tracey Grumbach

Individually, we are one drop.

Together, we are an ocean.

-Ryunosuke Satoro

It was a bright, perfectly warm day, about 75 degrees, when we stood together on this California beach. We stood in awe as the Pacific waves crashed terribly, forcibly into the rocky cliffs surrounding the sand. The noise was an unrelenting cycle of pounding surf punctuated with the high pitched squawks of seagulls nearby. It was too loud to talk comfortably, so we stood in silence, observing. Our bare feet sunk slowly into the cold, wet sand, eventually lost beneath the ever transforming earth. We squinted, despite wearing sunglasses, as the sun reflected off of the water like a million diamonds floating in the sea, the color of the water so turquoise that we wondered if it were real. The spray and mist from the salty water permeated the air and clung to our skin and hair in micro-droplets, surrounding us in a moisture filled hug from the sea. Negataive ions of crashing water swirled around us, luring us closer to this undulating, breathing giant. We were there together, but separate, lost in our own thoughts and sensory experiences yet united in this common experience, this common place. 

I will never forget this moment I shared with my daughter and my husband on a trip we took west to explore colleges back in September. As we were driving along the coast, north to Los Angeles, we spontaneously pulled off at a parking area and got out to explore this beach. This moment is engrained in my mind, which is why this altered photo means so much to me. It was a collaboration of her photograph and my editing, used with her permission and blessing. As she is getting ready to leave for college in less than two months, I want to capture, memorialize, and remember these individual memories I've shared with her. Her absence will be felt deeply here when she is gone, but I am so thrilled for her to spread her wings. A bittersweet dichotomy...

Have a blessed day.

xo