Tis’ the season for reflection as we say goodbye to a full year and prepare to usher in a brand new one. Resolutions firm up as we stand bravely on the precipice of a whole new decade. We explore the toll that guilt can take and the power of living slowly. We feel the deep effects of empathy and have our strength tested in ways we thought would certainly break us, but here we are, still standing. We stare death in the face and say, “not today” as we watch sacred moments flow through the paths we carved in that boldness. We tuck secrets close to our hearts and even when it feels like it’s against all odds, we survive high school and help others do the same. Today we step out into the light and celebrate the good, the bad, and the GLORIOUS. Today, we celebrate you.
OUR FEATURED ARTIST, Dan Cautrell, started creating art at the age of 25 in California. After experimenting with etching and screen printing, Dan started working with woodcut and linoleum printing and discovered an attraction to the striking high contrast imagery associated with the medium. He had his first public art installation in Riverside which he views as a milestone in his career. Public art, or Art For The People, is a theme that he has adopted for all of this work. He now resides in the small community of Duvall, Washington located in the gorgeous Snoqualmie River Valley east of Seattle. To see a gallery of his work and purchase his art, please visit his website: https://danielcautrell.com/
By: Stephanie Platter
Angels we have heard on high. But rarely do we see them. When we’re low and need the peace to help us muster a smile, it may take an angel or two. Seasons show us the cyclical nature of life. One year ago I was being prepped for surgery to remove a very large tumor…
By: J.M. Roddy
This morning I woke up in pain. I had a headache, as usual, and pain in my upper back, which has been happening more often lately. Not long later, my gut cramped badly enough that I couldn’t carry on conversation with my husband, who was talking to me about limiting the kids’ time on the…
By: Paige Green
It’s that time of the year—the holidays are upon us. Sometimes the reality of this season is the hustle and bustle of shuffling in and out of department stores and forcing smiles for pictures, when all we are really looking for is the glorious. As the great Frank Loyd Wright said “Sometimes less is more.”…
By: Becca Lavin
Move for me So I can remember what it feels like To be lighter than air and so___ Very sure of limb Move for me In ways my body remembers as if It were today When you hold gravity to task I am fearless once more & Free Resist! These universal laws As ever long…
By: Marissa B. Niranjan
Beads of mist clung to the two columns of light that guided the car around each twist and turn of the graveled road. Her hands clutched the steering wheel as her eyes darted from side to side, trained from years of trying to spot deer out of her periphery while she cruised down Four-Mile Road…
By: Alicia Tremblay, N.D.
It’s 3:30 a.m. and I’ve been awake for the last hour. My mind feels restless and a little bored. I’m not anxious, and I don’t remember a dream. At 40 years old, I wonder if I’m waking due to age. But there was no heat or sweating or urgency to visit the toilet. I was…
By: Abigail Platter
There’s an orange glow
From that moment I held your secrets close
And now it’s skipping on the edges the of the water
Catching on the little waves and highlighting the shifting moods
The grey of the winter evening is filling with charcoal and will grow black
But for now the rain is breaking the surface of the lake…
By: B. Treadway
A percolating coffee pot sounds a lot like a person dying of lung cancer trying to breathe. I made this analogy at age 8, sitting in my aunt Sally’s apartment in Springfield, Missouri, surrounded by depressed relatives. “What’s that bubbling sound? It sounds like Granny Anne.” I was just being honest. She died that night…
By: Heidi Cave
I feel guilty a lot. It’s my go-to. Guilty if I take too much time for myself. Guilty when I don’t feel like picking up my kids for the zillionth time. Guilty when I’m tired. Guilty that I’m not doing more, more, more. Guilt can be good. It can mean regret and we learn. An…
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