Behind the Scenes | Reworking Yellow Peonies

Two years ago, this large peony triptych was painted in many colors. Over time, something shifted, and I felt called to change it to all yellow peonies. Giving myself permission to change my mind became an act of trust, and reworking the piece unfolded with ease and joy.

Peonies remind me that nature does not strive. There is an inner knowing that can guide us on our path. In this moment, when so much feels uncertain, this painting holds my hope for tenderness, safety, and care, for myself and for others. Titled Beyond My Wildest Dreams, it reflects my belief that simple goodness, when nurtured, naturally blossoms.

Yellow Peonies in process. Artist sits upon gardening stool with brush in hand.

This is Me (New Podcast Conversation)

Friends,

[Check Out New Podcast Conversation]

Its cold. Days are short. Are you one who hibernates? Do you feel hope and possibility in the New Year? Are matters of health, the heart or your country stressing you out? I don't know where you are today, but I've touched all these things. 

Sometimes life outside the studio makes me think life inside the studio is outrageous/irrelevant/ a distraction. And yet. I stay committed to the truth for me that time in the studio helps me to center, grieve, process and bring compassionate energy and action into the world. And so I carry on. (I'm really hoping you have practices of rest and restoration that are helping you carry on.)

The steady rhythm of rise, journal, meditate, and paint carries me like the bass cords played in a favorite song. With this foundation I find the centeredness to help me step into a complex job, a beautiful/changing family, and a world filled with suffering (and beauty). 

As we begin this new year, I’m wishing you kindness—especially for whatever is unfolding in your life right now. It is my deepest belief that kindness can meet anything we are going through.

Something special happened to me this week. 

I found something.
A thread.

A thread that ties together many pieces of my life. 

I've struggled, for years, to integrate the different ways I move in the world.  So here it is, I have never captured such a well-rounded expression of my heart on many matters as this one simple 50 minute conversation.

This conversation shares how insights from my workplace (Interfaith Philadelphia) inform my approach to art/humanity/life and how my meditation and creative practices in the studio inform my approach to life and my workplace.

Check out new podcast interview.

I'd love to hear how it resonates.

Meanwhile, I'm still painting. Still feeling the joy of movement of color. Still immersed in prayer for life on many levels. Still leading workshops. I have so many updates I feel bubbly with excitement. I also continue to have the old familiar, 'how does creativity matter in a world that is on fire' feeling. But for now, this podcast and sharing it feels like the next step.

Thank you for your witness and encouragement.

With tenderness for all that aches and all that is beautiful beyond imagining, 

Bronwen

Scenes from a Joyful Art Opening

What a delight it was to host an art opening event at Glenside's Dovetail CoLAB. Honestly, I almost didn’t do it. The reasons not to? Schlepping paintings, the nerves (what if no one comes?), and promotion (who has time for that?).

But the reasons to far outweighed the rest—good vibes, a moment of pause and celebration, sharing the joy of creativity, meeting people who love art, nature, and meditation. A powerful reminder that while I often paint in solitude, art truly touches people.

I had so much fun during the event-and I'm so grateful for the many folks who came out--from nearest and dearest friends to people who I met for the first time. Thank you! I was so caught up in the joy-- I forgot to even talk about my paintings or remember that one of the goals is selling artwork. LOL. I was too caught up in the fun of an experience I offered--designed to share my creative process. I had folks do a simple (sort of!) activity of pushing a rock around on paper with a sharpie. Sounds easy enough.

One participant told me:

“It was surprisingly centering and meditative. Your gentle facilitation invited us to explore new ways of thinking—about both thinking and not thinking, and also about inviting creativity. What an opening experience!”

“It was such an interesting experience. To observe how the rock and pen moved while noticing all the different opinions and judgements my monkey mind was having on how I must be doing it wrong etc…. I then was completely delighted doing it- it’s actually quite hilarious to witness the commentary in my head. Excellent activity!”

“The opening activity was incredibly calming—a deep, centering breath that brought me out of the busy push and pull of my day and into the sacred spaciousness of the moment”

“Who would have thought that mindfully pushing a little rock around with a marker on textured watercolor paper could be so absorbing? As the tricky little stone wiggles and pulls you into its path it is at once calming and confronting—after all you can’t control the way the stone will react! What a wonderful way to unwind and crawl into the right side of your brain. A fabulous “take home” meditation to practice!”

That reflection sums up why I keep showing up for this work. Painting continues to be restorative for me—I start to twitch if I go too many days without it! But just as much, I’m finding joy, magic, and flow in facilitating experiences that open people to creativity and connection.

What’s next?

• This fall, I’m offering Paint Big in my home studio (Philadelphia area). Message me if you’d like details!

• I’d love to bring a meaningful creative experience to your workplace, congregation, or group of friends. If that sparks your curiosity, reach out and let’s explore what’s possible.

• In the studio I've been working away on new garden inspired pieces--swoon!

With gratitude and joy,
Bronwen

New Show in Glenside, PA (Aug 7-Sept 7)

New SHOW: Not Always So--Creative Meditations on Impermanence and Beauty | Featuring: Local Pennsylvania Natural Beauty 

***Open House September 7, 1-3pm ***
Join us for an open house that invites you to slow down, breathe deep, and step into the quiet beauty of nature—through the eyes of artist Bronwen Mayer Henry.

Original Paintings: Be among the first to experience this new collection, capturing the restorative energy of nature. Each piece offers a moment of pause, presence, and possibility.

Local Treats: Savor light refreshments, including soft pretzels from local makers—because art tastes better with good snacks.

Mindful Mini Workshop: Let your creativity flow with a self-guided mindful doodling station. Materials provided. No art experience needed—just curiosity and an open heart.

Meet the Artist: Connect with Bronwen, hear the stories behind the paintings, and get a glimpse into her process and inspiration.

Whether you're an art collector, a nature lover, or simply in need of a moment to recharge, this open house offers a soulful, welcoming space to explore and enjoy.

Date: 9/7/25
Time: 1-3pm
Location: [Enter through The Dovetail entrance: 2256 Mount Carmel Avenue, Glenside PA]

https://www.thecolabglenside.com/artshow

Free and open to all. Bring a friend. Take a breath. Come be surrounded by beauty.

How I got started

How Cancer Led Me to Paint Big
Like most journeys mine was filled with bumps and turns. On a bitter cold day in February 2013, I sat on my kitchen floor trying to register an unexpected thyroid cancer diagnosis. I could never have imagined that this discouraging experience would land me where I am today.

Shortly after being diagnosed with cancer, I attended a women’s retreat. We were asked to create a list of wildly impossible life goals. One of my goals was to “paint daily.” In writing about this list later, it struck me that daily painting actually seemed possible. Though at that time, I hadn’t painted in three years, I already owned plenty of paints, brushes and an easel, which were currently occupying some dusty corner of my attic. 

As part of my thyroid cancer treatment, I would have to take a radioactive pill and be in isolation for seven days. An inspiration came to me as I prepared for this medical treatment. I would use these seven days alone (a sort of luxury for a mom of young children) as a retreat. I wanted a joyful terror (painting on a larger scale than I had ever attempted before) instead of just the terror of the medical treatment.  

I bought a canvas more than four times bigger than I'd ever painted before. And I made a rule: I wasn't allowed to start that painting until after I swallowed that pill.

Even down to the moment of holding that pill in the intimidating small back room of  the hospital—the pill that came in a lead case in a lead box that was handed to me by a technician who then backed quickly away—I didn't know if I could do it...if I could actually swallow. For me, swallowing that pill was climbing Mt Everest. 

I never could have guessed how profound the period of isolation ended up being for me. Never in my life had I spent seven days alone, let alone seven days painting. In those first seven days,  I completed more than twenty watercolors and two large acrylic paintings .

Painting was a refuge. It was empowerment. It was inspiration. 
I will never forget that time, and I will always remember it with that first painting, called “Radioactive.”  (Here 'tis: http://society6.com/product/radioactive-0ph_print#1=45)

At the end of my isolation, I thought that would be the last time I ever painted big. (Spoiler alert: I've now made more than seven hundred  LARGE paintings). 

Why I continue to make space to paint
Somewhere along the way I decided I don't have to have cancer to get to spend time alone  or to restore my soul.  I don't have to be sick to 'get a break' from work or parenting. I had such a transformative experience during those seven days, that I chose to honor that experience by continuing to make space and time to paint. I gave away our guest room furniture and took over that room as a painting space. Now, with my health restored, I choose to remember the divine feeling I have while painting and to consciously give it space in my life. 

Why I paint what I paint
I find renewal in nature. The trees remind me of the scripture “The leaves of the trees are for the healing of the nations.” I hold a space for healing within me and for those around me. I am  often  drawn to painting aspens, meditating on their beauty and also their interconnected root systems, which reminds me how connected we all are. Each painting I do is filled with prayer, meditation, and joy. 

Painting and Prayer
It is my hope and prayer for each of us that we might face our fears, that we might be courageous, that we might let hard situations transform us, that we might know our interconnectedness with others and feel the comfort that comes from that connection,  and that, in our own way, we might step through a gateway into compassion. With this hope in mind, I welcome custom commissions; I find absolute joy in hearing a client’s own hopes and prayers, which I then meditate on  while painting.

(Updated February 2025)

Painting Under the Influence (of Gratitude)

Sometimes in the studio I find myself feeling a sort of euphoria. I said to a friend, searching for words to describe the experience—it's like I’m almost drunk on the joy of the process (ug, that sounds ridiculous). But inTOXICated is NOT the right word choice (it doesn’t feel toxic). Then I found myself playing with the expression, “Under the influence…” I LOVE that.

Here is my recent work (paintings & prayer poems) while under the influence of joy and gratitude.

“The Influence of Gratitude” 48” x 30” (c) Bronwen Mayer Henry

Along with the painting, this prayer poem tumbled out.

With fear and worry
--the big ones
--the inevitable ones
I go to the creek.

With the unavoidable losses of life before me.
Unrepeatable joy behind me.
--I surrender.

I step into the singular present.
I am under the influence of gratitude
This transforms me.

Not knowing the future and yet touching wisdom of constant change,
I fall heart first into a surrender to peace
Unlike any I have known before.

On the shores of losing Everything I know and love
--How can I be content?
---How can I not be?

“Rebuild Hope Daily” © Bronwen Mayer Henry 60” x 48” Original Acrylic on Canvas

Sitting by the creek may be the most simple, radical act of kindness I practice.

I join the many who experience the healing impact of immersion in nature.

In this sanctuary I meet my fears and overwhelm with tenderness.

I rebuild my hope daily.

A Prayer Poem for Election Season Stress

Pictured: Artist with hydrangea-inspired painting, “Revolutionary Love” (c) Bronwen Mayer Henry

I had the opportunity to create this commissioned piece, with a specific prayer request around the division in our country (US).

I want to share about the creative process. As I got started, I was moved by the intersection of this longing and prayer and the intricacy and beauty of hydrangeas. These flowers are filled with color variation. Filled with light and shadow. I was reminded of the diversity we have in our country, the many gradients (much more 'grey'/ middle places than black or white differences). The beauty of how it is all held together. 

The following prayer tumbled out of my heart as I painted I wrote notes for the following,

Dear loving God, who governs the stars, the cycle of the moon, the movement of the tides, and the opening of flowers.

My heart is stirring with worry for the humanity of my country for the outcomes of elections for the safety and well being of people. I am cycling through worst case scenarios. There is so much fear and hatred of the other. I notice how I want to be a responsible citizen. I also want to be a centered, grounded, calm presence.

Loving God of atoms and moons of raindrops and waterfalls of seeds and mighty oaks,

May I feel your presence here in my ordinary life.

May I feel your calming force keeping the beat of my heart and breath.

May I take a moment to remember that which governs the migration of a bird, the changing colors of the leaves, the fall of snow, and the awakening of Spring.

Though storms rage, floods rise, forests burn and humans step into escalated conflicts, distress, selfishness, greed and ego....

May I remember after the storm, the way your governing persists. The storms always end. The floods subside. The wildfires surrender to the rain, human conflict finds resolution that was once thought impossible. The seasons move, the pendulums of governments swing, the anxiety of elections rise and fall like the tide.

May I have the wisdom and courage to do my part, to speak up, to take action. And may my movements be inspired by the greater wisdom of your presence, the presence of LOVE which requires no vote and no campaign funds.

May we learn to hold the AND the urgency of taking action with one hand and the life saving energy of peace and confidence of love's movement with the other hand.

No matter the outcome may we center our practice on the constant motion of nature and humanity. May we neither rejoice nor despair too greatly on one outcome. May we rest our attention on the profound miracle that we are here at all. This chance at life. This accumulation of carbon. This life force put into motion. 

Every person is here because they were tenderly cared for by another. May this human to human care sustain us into the future. 

Help me to stay close with my neighbor, to feel a connection with them--to not make them bad or wrong or the enemy.

Cultivate in me a curiosity about the ways people see the world differently than me.

May I gently whisper to those I vehemently disagree with--you are a part of me I do not yet know.

Instead of contracting in disgust, may I soften and wonder, what life experiences led you to this view? These values? What is important to you? What keeps you up at night? Where do you feel safe and at ease? 

What if my heart were big enough to hold it all? The expansion of full light and full dark, winter here --summer there, rain and droughts. The natural world holds all variety of apparent contradictions. Why would our human hearts not do the same?

May I drop my clinging to my one experience or view and wake up to the movement of life force and love in invisible ways. May I stop imagining I control any of it and trust in a force of love that calls up plants out of cracks, causes cacti to flower, brings water to dry river beds and sparkles light in the midnight sky.

May there be a softening, an emergence of new life and light in these places in my heart (my community) that feel desolate, dead, dark, beyond reach.

***

I call this piece, Revolutionary Love, inspired by the author Valarie Kaur and her call to courage and kindness in these times. 

“When we choose to wonder about people we don’t know, when we imagine their lives and listen for their stories, we begin to expand the circle of those we see as part of us. We prepare ourselves to love beyond what evolution requires.” Valarie Kaur

Be the Holder and the Held (Prayer Poem)

Be the Holder and the Held

Prayer Poem by Bronwen Mayer Henry

Am I the mom?

Am I the baby?

What is it to be the holder and the held?

Do we ever stop being both?

Is a baby selfish and a mom generous?

Is a mom selfish and a baby generous?

Enough with terms and ideas.

Just be.

In it.

Consumed.

Delivered.

Beginning. Failing.

Beginning again.

Never stop holding.

Never stop being held.

Be the holder and the held.

Both crying out.

Be the holder and the held. 

Both new.

Be the holder and the held. 

Both unsure, fragile, uncomfortable.

Be the holder and the held. 

Both crossing a threshold.

Be the holder and the held. 

Both witness to the Divine.

Be the holder and the held. 

Both tender, afraid, surrounded by love.

Be the holder and the held. 

Filled with limitless potential.

Be the holder and the held. 

New Prayer Poem (for those navigating grief)

A prayer poem for anyone feeling uneasy or wobbly—navigating new terrain around grief.

The ache in my body (heart?) feels big.
It feels insurmountable.
The (My?) world’s rotation feels wobbly.
I feel nauseas and needy.
What might enter here love?
What can flow in?

(Pause)

Breathe, love.

Let love meet you here.
She wraps you, holds your head in her hands.

Be here,
Eye to eye,
Forehead to forehead,
With love.

In this time of ache, wobbly-ness, nausea,
Love meets you.
Breathes with you.

You will find your sea legs,
Now that you’ve left land.

This will be your home.
You will adapt

You will find beauty
In groundlessness

You will know the deep abyss
And beautiful sunrises

You will know storms
And still waters

You will develop new muscles
(When you felt you were drowning.)

You will find unexpected refuge
At sea.

2023 Highlights

What an absolutely incredible, heartwrenching, beautiful year. I still feel I’m at the very beginning of so much in life, I hardly know anything at all. My heart feels disoriented with loss. I feel captivated by the beauty of life and loved ones. Nature continues to lift me up from dark places.

I am so grateful for the chance to pause and reflect on the year behind me.

I am nearly speechless to realize I created 60 original paintings, 30 (what???!!!) of which were commissioned pieces. This means 30 precious connections with people about matter of heart and art. I am stunned.

This is truly beyond my wildest dreams.

I painted protea, mountains, aspens, snowdrops, cherry blossoms, sunsets, sunrises, creeks, irises, peonies, delphinum, roses, winter trees, dahlia, calla lillies and one bird (awww).

With these sixty original paintings, each titled from the heart message that inspired them, I wrote the following poem:

Life and loss are filled with Artifacts of Love.

May Cascading Love and Mercy—Meet Us at the Horizon.

Everything Changes, so why not Bloom Now?
For this one Wild and Precious Life.

Be unsurprised by the Wild Edges of sorrow, that are Soul Carving.

You feel this because you are Exquisitely Alive.

Breathing through the discomfort you will Return Home. 

Friend, this heartache is an invitation to Return to Your Original Cadence.

To discover that you Belong Everywhere.

To know that all Bliss is Momentary.

Fear not, Love will Return.

You will be Safe from Striving. You will Rest Here.

Peace is this Moment.
Where we Open Together,

Overflowing in Joy and Connection.

So, Be Here Now. Don’t miss it.

And if you do, don’t worry.

Everything is Possible. 

The rhythms of day and seasons remind us. 

There is the Inevitable Return of Light.

Let there be a Gentle Beginning,

Don’t seek out the fancy or profound.

Return to the Nobility of the Ordinary.

When darkness persists.

Continue to Wait for the Light.

You have a Beginner’s Mind.

You discover what it is to feel Joy Anyway, no matter your circumstance.

You Anticipate Beauty.

You are a Love Warrior. 

You will bring Kindness in Times of Opening.

You will know True Joy as you Wake Up—Startled by Peace.

In this unexpected moment you will find you are Whole Unto Yourself. 

Awe Everywhere.

Kindness in Time of Opening

This sweet Dahlia painting is headed to a new collector in DC. Returning to dahlias was a total gift.  After contemplating the prayer request/intention I received for the commission, I found myself pondering these questions,

What does it look like to let go (with a heart filled with gratitude for what has been)?

How do I have joy and faith about what is to come (when there is uncertainty and fear too)?

While studying the intricacies of these blossoms my mind stumbled into soothing territory and a blessing emerged,

May there be an opening free from grasping, filled with gratitude.

May there be joy emerging in unexpected places.

May I open my hands and heart to all that has been and will be.

May I find the joy of living here, now, with the loss, the grief, the gratitude, the fear, the hope.
May I be held in kindness in this time of opening.

Painting while holding others on my heart is one of my highest joys. I'm grateful for the invitation into a small aspect of someone else's life and the opportunity to make an offering of kindness, joy and beauty. Message me if you are interested in a commissioned piece and/or a prayer poem.

"Kindness in Time of Opening"
SOLD
48" x 30"

(c) Bronwen Mayer Henry 
Original Acrylic on Canvas

Pursuing Contemplative Creativity Teaching

If you had told me ten years ago, when facing down the destabilizing, panic inducing diagnosis of thyroid cancer, I never would have believed you where I'd be today. 

This weekend, I began a two year meditation teacher training program with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach and feel such a profound sense of "This is exactly where I'm meant to be." 

I first stepped into meditation practice at the Won Buddhis temple in 2008, I began a contemplative approach to the creative process in 2013. Meditation and creativity have helped me to cope with great difficulty: illness, anxiety, and loss to name a few.  

In the ten days leading up to this launch of this program I've had a few stunning opportunities, and I don't think it is a coincidence. I facilitated a meditative creative process with 92 middle schoolers as part of my work at Interfaith Philadelphia, I shared my story and facilitated a contemplative art activity with students in Temple's art therapy program, and most recently I was interviewed by Pauli Reese on their podcast Uncommon Good about my contemplative creative practice. 

Sometimes the universe gives us gentle winks that we are on the right track. This past few weeks it has felt more like a big hug. 

I'm profoundly grateful for the alignment of my life to make enrollment in this Mindful Meditation Teaching program possible. I am ripe for this next level of engagement and curious and open about the pathways that will open and unfold within and around me. 

Stream Inspired Commission Story

What a total joy to create a commissioned piece inspired by a stream. I have had a practice of biking down to the local stream (Pennypack) and sitting on the waters edge for months now. I took this opportunity to bring my canvas and paints with me to get the fully immersive inspiration.

[I finished up the piece(s) in the studio—paint sure dries fast outside!]

Painting by the stream.

As I frequently do I chose to create three canvases to give the collector a choice. Scroll down to see the finished pieces. Which one would you have chosen?

I call this series “Sacred Space” inspired by the way nature offers a place of renewal.

If you are interested in one of these original pieces, or a commission of your own, let me know!

What Peonies Taught Me (Collection Launch)

Friends,

Confession, when I peer into a peony blossom I have a full-bodied experience of bliss that I can only imagine feels like enlightenment itself. Is there more to being fully awake, free and open to joy than the miracle of this flower blossoming? I'm not sure. 

Here are whispers that emerged at the canvas while painting peonies,

1. I trust in the unfolding of my life. Surely my own design is like the peonies in that it has a momentum and emergence that requires "only" warmth, light and nutrient rich soil. 

2. Our design is beautiful. I delight in the gentle curves of each petal, intertwining in color, shadow and light. Not simple, yet beautiful in their complexity. I return again to Eckart Tolle's words "What you see in the tree [peony?] is also in you."

3. Our design is moving. Returning to the petals each day they continue to open. One brief rainfall changes everything. Bring them indoors and they won't be contained but will leap from their bouquets. The peony, just like our lives, is constantly opening, surrendering, transforming to seeds of what is next. 

I call this collection "Awake and Unfolding" as this feels like what is happening in my heart alongside this creative process. A constant effort to be present and awake to life as it is and a surrendering or unfolding of what is to be. 

This collection featured my BIGGEST. PIECE. EVER. which is a swoonworthy bouquet. Please check out this new collection, and let me know what you think.

I hope that you enjoy this immersion in this beloved fragrant flower and that you find yourself awake to all that is unfolding in your life.

With care,

Bronwen

New Sedona-Inspired Collection AVAILABLE

Where do you find the centering and energy to face the challenges of your life? The challenges of these times?

For me, it is in nature and at the canvas. Places to restore. Places to find deep peace. Places to recharge to return to the challenges of life.

Traveling to Sedona, Arizona was a trip of a lifetime for my little family. Within the first one hundred steps on the first hike one child exclaimed, "Mom, I found a new happy place." the other one said, "This is my favorite hike ever." My heart swelled. 

Returning home, it was beyond my wildest dreams to immerse myself in the imagery of the trip. To revisit the hikes. Even the attempt to capture the beauty was a joy. And then when the creative process is complete I step back and smile. And get a third enjoyment of these beautiful vistas.This new collection.....about the collection

I hope for you a life filled with ease. However, all of our lives have difficulties. I hope spending time with this tribute to Sedona will bring you a smile, a softening of the tension in your shoulders.

May we each find spaces to feel grounded, to feel spacious, to restore such that we have the courage and wisdom to meet the challenges of our time with new thinking, new hope, new energy, new bridge building, new strength, new clarity.
-Bronwen

PS. [Prints and products also available at society6.com/bronwenhenry . ]

Prints and Products Available at Society6.com

Mountain Blessings (A Poem and Painting)

I grasp at things.
But only daily.

Right as a softening or expansion emerges,
I think--here it is!
I can do this!
Immediately turning from the truth
Of constant change.

Holding onto a joyful moment,
Is like the earth saying,
"Finally, I did it! A sunrise!"
Only to feel despair,
As the sun goes down again and the emptiness of night surrounds you.

Or maybe what you grasp is an achievement
You've been working toward with time.
And you think. Hurray--at-last--it is here!
Like the earth saying,
"Spring. I knew it would come."

Of course the earth does not say this.
With her gentle wisdom she shines in the morning
Shares her sacred majesty in spring
And moves with grace toward nightfall and winters as well.
Without a whimper of despair to be heard.

Friend, if there were one thing I would like to hold onto most
It is remembering this movement--this impermanence.
By all means delight in the sunrise and spring.
And then stay--
As constant motion is underway

Remember with each sunset, just as it is with each sunrise.
This too shall pass.
Remember with each winter, just as it is with each spring.
This too shall pass.
If you are feeling bold, you might even smile.

I let go again.
But only daily.

Poem by Bronwen Mayer Henry

Painting, "Mountain Blessing," (c) Bronwen Mayer Henry

Befriending Life

This painting, “Befriending Life” was such a total joy to paint. While painting this piece, an integration of learning over years came together, speaking to me about what to do when difficult moments arise in life. I call this the “Dirty Sock Meditation” It helps me step out of suffering and back into belonging. It helps me to befriend life.

The dirty sock lesson: Make friends with dirty socks. I don’t know about you but there are dirty socks everywhere in my house. Right now there’s one under the dishwasher, there are two under the dining room table, I saw one on the steps to the backyard, there are a few in the hallway at the top of the stairs. I’m not sure why but there are dirty socks everywhere .

Even when I give speeches like "The merits of turning a dirty sock right side in," or "The ease of putting a small sock in a laundry basket," or "Hey, please pick up your socks," even when I do this motivational pep talks dirty socks keep appearing everywhere.

I decided that I was powerless over the dirty sock.

My only choice left was to befriend the dirty socks.

I decided that I would make friends with these dirty socks and every time I saw one I say to them, "Hello friend, thank you for not leaving me alone in the world."

Obviously life is a lot more challenging than dirty socks. There are other challenges of aging, illness, and loss. There are aches of the spirit and body that will not ever be relieved. So, what do we do? We reach out to community for support AND perhaps we also accept these aches as reminders that we are not alone in the world.

"Awakeness is found in our pleasure and our pain, our confusion and our wisdom. Available in each moment of our weird, unfathomable, ordinary, everyday lives." Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart

Surrender Again (A Poem and Painting)

A gentle message to surrender emerges as I work on a new large scale Maine inspired sunrise painting.

Have a beautiful week friends. Keep going.

Surrender Again, by Bronwen Mayer Henry

The sun told me
What my soul knew
Surrender again,
Begin again,
Rise again.

Not because everything is okay
Not because you have the answers

As her golden rays broke through the horizon
She told me to rise,
Because--why not?
While you are here--why not?
Give it another try.

Attempt again to be kind to all beings.
Attempt again to do your best.
Attempt again to show up for those in need.
Attempt again to be present with each aching moment
Attempt again to inhabit each gorgeous moment.

She knew I would be discouraged
So without words
She showed me what it is to
Surrender again
Begin again
Rise again

A sacred pause fills the space around me.
For 120 seconds,
All fear, doubt and worry fall away.
And in silent wonder
I hear her.

A Conversation with Flight ( A Poem)

I have noticed
That when I eat sugar
Mindlessly, secretively
It is to hide.

It is not that I'm hiding the consumption (though I am)
I am hiding from the discomfort
I am hiding from the pain.
I am hiding from the breakthrough

When I reach for chocolate (low quality!) without anyone knowing
I can be certain I'm on the shores of awakening
To a new level of vulnerability, joy, possibility.

When part of me races to the cupboard
I can be sure that something within me is racing
That something has been stirred
That something in me has urgency.

So what do I do?
It doesn't matter if it is sugar, alcohol, or compulsive thoughts that have become old friends.
What matters is awakening.

Eat the sugar or not.
Be underwater or not.
That is okay.
The awakening will be waiting for you.

If you choose to experiment
To walk on that knife edge,
To step to that space where groundlessness meets spaciousness
Something new will be discovered.

About yourself,
About another,
About humankind,
About the earth.

I don't know.
It might be scary.
It might be hard to see and learn.
So you might blind yourself with a sugar coma.

Okay, no problem.
The awakening will wait.
Just don't make her wait too long.
Don't let your hole (whole) life pass by without being willing to walk this edge
This place that scares you

This place that you thought was bleakness
Is a darkness that has been holding you the whole time.
Some have called it a vacuum.
But that is because they do not know the mystery

Of what is not yet understood
Of what appears empty.
This is spaciousness.

Love, it is okay.
Stand on a stool and eat gross chocolate
While hiding from your kids.
As long as you'd like.

Or don't.
And come here.
And feel
Everything

Let the waves crash over you
Let tears fall
See the vulnerability of it all

And notice that you are not destroyed.
In fact you are just beginning.

What Zinnias Taught Me

What Zinnias Taught Me

In a garden bed overflowing with zinnias,

in the final days of summer and early days of fall,

I see flowers sending forth buds of possibility.

I see continued growth.

Courage to keep putting forth new buds.

Uninhibited energy.

I see blooming and preparing to bloom,

not because it is reasonable or easy.

But because that is the design.

I want to live like a garden of zinnias.

Unafraid to expand and grow.

Bursting forth with color and hope.

Unafraid of the future.

The winter does not destroy this life

but helps to bring it back to the soil.

To re-emerge brand new, when the warmth returns.

It feels easier to be alive when there are zinnias nearby.

Even when they are gone,

I will remember the beauty of their lessons.