Category: Uncategorized
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Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
“Without love, everything is painful, everything is tiring, everything is burdensome. The Cross, taken up hesitantly, is crushing; taken smilingly, by free will, and with love, it will carry you much more than you carry it. Love makes time eternal by giving a divine value to everything.” —I Believe in Love: A personal retreat based…
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The (p)Arty Animal
My middle child, Magdalen, turned three this month. We decided to throw her a nice, big birthday party, the theme of which was: “Tyger, Tyger, burning bright…” You might remember these words from the first line of the famous William Blake poem. Here’s the original which Blake illustrated and printed in his self-published, “Songs of…
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An Artist and a Mother
I am slowly beginning to realize that there is still some kind of false choice being proffered here. There is some sort of repulsive-charge between the ‘self-as-artist’ and the ‘self-as-mother’ images I hold simultaneously in my heart. A mother is supposed to be someone who can’t do art. An artist is supposed to be someone…
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Words Underground
It was another “medicine walk,” as I call them. These have become indispensable. I’m not able to describe what goes on during my medicine walks in pictures, though as a painter, I sorely wish I could. That’s why I’m stuck with words. Words in English. Words, words, words. Words like worms beneath my feet in…
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A Little Grief
The bond with one’s own pre-born baby is a bond more basic than fondness. It sits deeper than personality. It is a bond made irrevocably but not yet fully realized. The satisfaction of loving is in knowing the other, but I can’t really know Doloran as I know my living children. And that is perhaps…
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Meeting Another Mother on the Way of Sorrow
Her name is not really “Laurel” but I’ll call her that. She’s a Catholic friend of my midwife who has been an invisible helper to me in various ways since my hospitalization last year. For one thing, it was she who brought Thanksgiving Dinner to my dad and girls while Krzys and I were languishing…
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Looking at Pictures Again
There was a time in which I was a little girl, frozen still, on the floor, gazing into a book at a painting by Balthus. I was gazing at another pensive little girl, who was gazing back at me, perhaps lost in dreams of adulthood herself. I wished someday that I could paint her, too.…
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Pilgrim with a Pencil
It is important for me to keep writing. I have a physical journal where I put things. I put a hell of a lot of things on my Telegram channels and chat groups these days, and a sprinkle the rest over my poor husband’s ear while he’s trying to get some sleep. I’ve got to…
Michael Shelby Suberlak 