A recent talk I heard entitled Cinderella Revisited inspired last week’s art activity at the Lighthouse, a twelve-month, faith-based residential treatment program for women recovering from substance abuse. The essence of the message was that Cinderella was dead in the enslaved environment of her life with a wicked step-mother and two ugly sisters . . . → Read More: Cinderella


Raw emotions. Red for ANGER. Green for ENVY. Great black looping CONFUSION. Periodic EXPLOSIONS. That’s the mask Ashley describes wearing because she believes expressing her anger is a stronger position than crying although her tears are just beneath the surface. She knows that needs to change….in a safe place…in a safe way…at a . . . → Read More: Raw


Over the last twenty years I’ve learned that art-making combined with writing is an efficient way for me to process the “memorable” moments of life – those moments that are so impactful that it takes some intentional time to integrate them into my soul. Frankly, I stumbled into this fast, fun, cheap form . . . → Read More: Box


When you’re in your twenties you can’t imagine not decorating for Christmas, especially if you’re the creative type. But I must confess that my Martha Stewart more-is-more gene has aged and I reached a point where I decided we’d get an artificial tree when I turned 60. Alas, my cut-down-a-live-tree-and-haul-it-home . . . → Read More: Trees


Like Forrest Gump I might have said life is a box of chocolates, but at the moment life seems more like a random pile of pieces. Sometimes the pieces are magazine images and words that get combined to tell a story of recovery. Sometimes the pieces are piles of strips or folds of . . . → Read More: Pieces

Broken Open

Not every broken pot gets rebuilt as a recognizable terra cotta garden pot. Some of them get broken open. Broken open and rearranged. Broken open and painted. Broken open and filled with larger meaning. They begin as one thing and wind up as another. That’s pretty much the story of Nicole’s pot. Quickly . . . → Read More: Broken Open

Letting Go

You reach a certain age and letting go becomes a way of life. At times, it’s a gift you give your children lest they be stuck with sorting your stuff when you’re gone. At other times, it’s a gift you give yourself. For the oddest assortment of reasons. And under the oddest assortment . . . → Read More: Letting Go

In Memoriam

One never expects these phone calls. The ones that interrupt a tranquil existence to announce the unimaginable. To pass on the news that others can hardly grasp. The news of an untimely death. The call from a mutual friend to tell me that the woman who has cleaned my house for the last . . . → Read More: In Memoriam

Giselle & Minnie

This is our first road trip using a GPS. Affectionately named Giselle, the non-anxious, disembodied female presence who guides us from point to point, has generally been a good companion. To say the least, she has a mind of her own. Some of her directions don’t always seem the most obvious or straightforward, . . . → Read More: Giselle & Minnie


The weather was unseasonable for mid-April. Pouring buckets of rain, thunder booming and lightening flashing across the Oxnard plains. More like a mid-winter storm, but a perfect atmospheric background for painting the seasons of life in shades of gray, the latest art activity for the women at the Lighthouse, a fifteen-month, faith-based, residential . . . → Read More: Unseasonable