“Sometimes you’re made to feel as if your love’s a crime — But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight — Got to kick at the darkness ’til it bleeds daylight.”

- Bruce Cockburn, Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Have you heard of the “You are beautiful” movement? Maybe you were walking down the street on a particularly dismal day and stumbled upon the words on a telephone pole, in a bathroom stall, or on the wall of a favourite coffee joint (or on a giant panda atop an Irish hilltop.) Well, someone left them there for you.

You are beautiful. It’s true.

I’ve long been a fan of this simple, creative movement and I just got word that they are doing a reprint in a couple of weeks. So, if you’re thinking of getting some stickers, now is the time!

From the You are beautiful website:

We can’t go anywhere without a few in a wallet or back pocket. They always come in handy - slapping one up, leaving one behind for that nice waiter, or dropping one into the lap of someone who has had a tough day.

You’ll get 10 stickers for each dollar, and we’ll cover shipping on all donations made between now and November 4th.

http://you-are-beautiful.com/STICKERS.htm

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

― Albert Einstein

we abandoned our plan to go to the small group. made our own, smaller group instead. us two with two-month-old in tow. “i want to go somewhere new,” he said. so we drove through pitch black downpour to roncesvalles. tore across the street, shielding baby eyes, and sat in a coffee shop.

“is that an old journal?” he asked. “no,” i replied. “i’ve just been writing in it forever.” and then, quiet. sitting there looking at my men. the miniature sitting on his father’s lap bouncing. and the weight of keeping it together –

the screaming toddler,

the running noses,

the eight rooms collecting dust, chunks of crayon, splatters of oatmeal,

the urgency buried in my ribs,

the want to write,

the need to create,

the dreams of learning, speaking, saying something that matters,

the frustration of not earning to help him (and me) get to grad school,

and the kids book idea,

and the novel pages coming line by line,

and working to self-publish a first title — and all the hiccups and frustrations along the way,

and the rejections coming,

and the desire to get out of the house and wear my nine wests to bay and king,

and the desire to hear a gentle voice telling me where to begin.

sitting in the back room, macs and espresso scattering tables, the tears come. for my son’s ear that may not hear.

for the beauty of his eyes, two bluebells smiling back at me. for the closeness of the holy one collapsing my heart, breaking my thoughts down into edible pieces.

and the rain outside pours, pours. while i hold the steaming mug, grasp my pen and let the story play itself out.

and while i want to make plans, i am reminded to take each day as it comes. with two young ones and family a thousand miles away it’s all this broken girl can do.

“Soon silence will have passed into legend.  Man has turned his back on silence.

Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation…tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his ego.  His anxiety subsides.  His inhuman void spreads monstrously like a gray vegetation.”

- Jean Arp

I love clothes. My mom instilled this affection early in my youth, with her personal sense of style and what some would call flamboyant taste. Capes and red-rimmed glasses. Aboriginal prints and snake-skin shoes.

Building a wardrobe takes time and a keen eye. Over the years friends have asked me to take them shopping, help them take the guess work out of what can be an altogether tedious task. And it is. I hate shopping out of necessity. I rarely do intentionally, instead I explore favourite haunts from time and time, collecting pieces as they find me. This way I can purchase items I love rather than the best I could find in the moment. And you can too!

On a recent trip to Anthropologie, a delightful (and unexpected) anniversary gift from my husband, I carried a pile of twenty items into the change room.

Shopping Tip #1. Grab everything you like.

That way you don’t have to run out of the dressing room half-naked combing the store for that pair of grey corduroys you were iffy on.

On this particular trip, I started with the tops. I am a stay-at-home-mom/sometime writer at present, so tops and cardigans paired with a favorite pair of jeans are my go-to outfit.

Tip #2. Wear jeans, flats, a good bra (for the ladies) and a favourite plain cardigan.

This will allow you to see each item exactly how you’d wear it day-to-day. If you are an uber-planner, toss a pair of heels in your handbag too.

I create three piles of clothes — no’s, yeses, and maybes. In the end it was down to four daily pieces (all from the Anthropologie sale section) or one incredible (full price) dress.

Tip #3. Buy to wear.

If you can’t see an immediate need for a piece of clothing, don’t buy it. I have done this and regretted it time and time again. Save the money, and the closet space, for later.

In this case, I opted for the four simpler items. While I loved the dress, I had no immediate event on the books and, in case something crops up, I have a handful of lovely frocks waiting for me at home.

Final tip of the day…

Tip #4. Buy to last.

Building a wardrobe is about buying quality and developing a personal style. That way clothes can be worn year after year, no matter the style forecast. Purchasing quality clothing does not have to break the bank. I rarely (if ever) buy full price items at stores like Anthrolpologie. Check out sale sections of local designer boutiques (try Dream in Vancouver and Poa Studio in Toronto,) end-of-season sample sales and, my favourite: vintage and consignment shops. I found an incredible little-black-dress for $10 at a vintage shop on Commercial Drive last summer. I promise, it’s possible.

A final note: I am a firm believer in wearing what you want. If you are a man and you want to wear Tretorn gumboots in Gastown, then you damn well should. That goes for white after labour day, too.

Happy shopping!

two of them send you the exact same card, six months apart. I love them both. I love both of you. ;)

“A (wo)man who is intimate with God will never be intimidated by men.”

- Leonard Ravenhill

i was only moments old. and i let out a cry that broke the room, cut through the flutter of sheets, marked my mother’s wails, her sigh, sudden. it was finished. i was born.

it was then i first knew the hush of his arms.

and this sunday when my father reached out and gathered me in. me memorizing the crook of his elbow all over again, him knowing his girl close. and us standing in church an hour later and the picture, the scent, the knowing of my place with him. with father, great. with father, here. and the wash of warmth smearing the wisp of mascara i’d managed to paint on in the car, flowing black, flowing clear.

showing me my smallness. safeness. known-ness.

you are my sunshine…

the song he always sang, every other weekend when i’d travel back to the house of my birth and find my home in his arms. and the chorus words grew louder, a strength buried in my rib cage shouting itself out.

let us praise and join the chorus | of the saints enthroned on high | here they trusted Him before us | now their praises fill the sky

and in his arms, always in his arms, i know my place.

Season four of Being Erica, my favourite show, premiered this week. It’s the only show I watch and I take it in online because we don’t have cable. If you haven’t seen it, and are a woman between the ages of 25 and 40, watch and love.

A few clickity clacks after the show and I found myself on the mothercorp job board where I found this little gooder. May be worth dusting off the ‘ole CV.