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Facing politics and money on my path to arts and equity...

 As a career educator, and a 1st gen college student who once had very little confidence in my financial literacy or business skills, I'd never have guessed that I'd become a person who studies state budgets, or sends bill commentary to my legislators, or attends meetings in Olympia. But sure enough, that's now my reality. And I'm starting to enjoy it. Why? Because as an educator, I'd experienced so many situations which showed me that school funding and budgeting are at the root of equity--or inequity-- in our education system. And it was disheartening to repeatedly have meaningful conversations with my colleagues then feel like we weren't being heard by the many many people guiding that education system. As an educator, I was often unsure of which decision makers to reach, or how to get our point across. Education might be a bipartisan topic overall, but in order to effect change, we have to learn how to navigate the political landscape, and the field of educ
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Where I'm from: A rediscovered poem, rediscovering a past

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Unseen

 I wish I'd found the garden before my first failed test,  my first lost love, my first lost job,  my first loss of self, my first loss of faith, my first loss of hope. In a garden, every season has its own journey of hope and growth and death and faith. And we never know exactly what it might become until it has already been. Sometimes, after winter, a dry brown stalk seems a loss then Hope says to wait  for growth below the snow. Sometimes, the sun scorches the blossoms before they've bloomed but roots remain to try again in the fall when Death begins to declare the rest. Sometimes, seeds scatter through the soil, under cover of dead leaves and stalks until the spring when life begins again. Sometimes, we forget that Life was there all along. Just unseen. In a different form,  on a different Journey, to create a new garden that has never yet been. The stalk had died but did not fail to survive; it succeeded at protecting unseen life. The roots were buried but did not fail to
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Growing season

Even after the rain, With plants that were never meant  For bouquets, We can find beauty. Sort of like in life, In times that we never imagined  We would face, Growth can be beautiful. So maybe beauty comes less  From sweet fragrance  Or visual charm.  Maybe it comes more  From the way  We grow with the weeds  And the rain. *I shared a version of this to a private page on May 27,  and today I decided I wanted to include it in this “collection” on my blog.
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Artistic Respite

The last few years have been so filled with personal losses and challenges that I still can’t even begin to write about them. To be honest, I don’t know if I even want to try. I’m definitely feeling stronger and more clear on my future direction lately though, and that is due in large part to the respite I’ve experienced through variety of artistic mediums over these many months.  I’ve done a great amount of soul searching, reading, listening, watching, making, growing, and resting… or at least learning to rest… and I’ve started to make peace with removing the “should” expectations that I usually place on myself. Slowly but surely, I’ve been increasing my socializing, fitness, and productivity, but in small increments that truly feel right rather than through my previously hyperproductive habits.  This past weekend, I hosted an event for a nonprofit, and afterward I enjoyed a thoughtful conversation with several local artists. It was wonderful to see inside their journey, and to be ins
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