Hurrah! What a great feeling to feel comfortable and "enough" in a strange land. My first evening in the kibbutz, the kids in my group and eye sat down to a Shabbat chicken dinner. The skinless boiled chicken was served in a bowl. As I held the chicken to bite into it, I looked at the others, all of whom were cutting pieces of chicken to eat from a fork. "What a rube," I thought of myself as I put my chicken back in the bowl and picked up my knife.
Oh, and the variety of toilet facilities I encountered was a constant conundrum. Thanks for this post, Candace. You're an adventurous lass.
I love this series already! I quit smoking years ago. I gave up alcohol. I don't eat meat either. Coffee is one of my last remaining vices. I tried to give it up for a while, but I missed it. Not the caffeine, the pick-me-up, or the energy. But, the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling.
I wanted to travel when I was younger but I didn't. I hoped to end up in career that I still haven't managed to make it into. I ended up in the place I've always been afraid; at desk, in a cubicle. I've made mistakes and bad choices. I'm full of regrets and disappointments. Rarely, I have I felt ok with who or where I am. But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me. Just drinking coffee.
Oh I love this. I think we are at our most beautiful when we are radiant, alive and joyful. It's better for the complexion than all the makeup and high fashion money can buy ❤️
I love your work. You are inspiring me to dig mine out of the bottom of that dusty box in the corner. I’ve been writing and creating for fifty years, almost my whole life. But how to begin sharing myself? Do I start in the middle and dig my way out? Or try to find the beginning? Can I just throw myself out on the page and see if I make sense to anyone? I’m new to this platform. How to believe that people out there would find what I’ve written? The saddest thing is to imagine my words forever echoing around in an empty tunnel, or a full box, like they are right now. Where do I begin to speak my truth?
This is so beautiful! Working as a data cleaner for Google Maps + the free diet coke there was my gateway drug to coffee. Awful job but at least it changed my life in that small way.
What an entirely delightful story. Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands...
"it was the first time I'd seen a mirror in days" I am so happy for you in this moment! When we moved into our little rough homestead cabin, we didn't have a mirror for months. I had no idea the way it was going to reset my relationship with my reflection, but I honestly wish more ladies could experience it 💕
This is such a beautiful series, and I loved this installment. The tin-roofed bungalow and kettle illustrations really jump out here, but watching this story unfold this way is lovely.
Hurrah! What a great feeling to feel comfortable and "enough" in a strange land. My first evening in the kibbutz, the kids in my group and eye sat down to a Shabbat chicken dinner. The skinless boiled chicken was served in a bowl. As I held the chicken to bite into it, I looked at the others, all of whom were cutting pieces of chicken to eat from a fork. "What a rube," I thought of myself as I put my chicken back in the bowl and picked up my knife.
Oh, and the variety of toilet facilities I encountered was a constant conundrum. Thanks for this post, Candace. You're an adventurous lass.
I love this series already! I quit smoking years ago. I gave up alcohol. I don't eat meat either. Coffee is one of my last remaining vices. I tried to give it up for a while, but I missed it. Not the caffeine, the pick-me-up, or the energy. But, the taste, the ritual, the experience, the feeling.
I wanted to travel when I was younger but I didn't. I hoped to end up in career that I still haven't managed to make it into. I ended up in the place I've always been afraid; at desk, in a cubicle. I've made mistakes and bad choices. I'm full of regrets and disappointments. Rarely, I have I felt ok with who or where I am. But in the few moments I tip a thin stream of hot water in widening spirals around freshly ground beans. In the span of time it takes to pour coffee into a mug and take that first perfect sip, I don't think about any of those things. I'm just there. Just me. Just drinking coffee.
I love the self Portrait:) Out of focus works especially when you didnt know what to expect.
Oh I love this. I think we are at our most beautiful when we are radiant, alive and joyful. It's better for the complexion than all the makeup and high fashion money can buy ❤️
I love your work. You are inspiring me to dig mine out of the bottom of that dusty box in the corner. I’ve been writing and creating for fifty years, almost my whole life. But how to begin sharing myself? Do I start in the middle and dig my way out? Or try to find the beginning? Can I just throw myself out on the page and see if I make sense to anyone? I’m new to this platform. How to believe that people out there would find what I’ve written? The saddest thing is to imagine my words forever echoing around in an empty tunnel, or a full box, like they are right now. Where do I begin to speak my truth?
This is so beautiful! Working as a data cleaner for Google Maps + the free diet coke there was my gateway drug to coffee. Awful job but at least it changed my life in that small way.
Beautiful! This is what you get when you combine a sense of adventure with a poet's eye for detail and gorgeous artwork.
Beautiful post, thank you for sharing your journeys with us ❤️
What a wonderful set of experiences! I especially loved the ending. Life is beautiful whether it is simple or complicated, but we are always enough.
There are times when even Nescafé in a little packet can be a home on a cold, hard day. This was one of those days when Nescafé was my only comfort:
https://switters.substack.com/p/under-the-shadow-of-ararat
What an entirely delightful story. Life distilled into clear drops of memory swirling in hot mugs between cupped hands...
"it was the first time I'd seen a mirror in days" I am so happy for you in this moment! When we moved into our little rough homestead cabin, we didn't have a mirror for months. I had no idea the way it was going to reset my relationship with my reflection, but I honestly wish more ladies could experience it 💕
Simply beautiful
This is such a beautiful series, and I loved this installment. The tin-roofed bungalow and kettle illustrations really jump out here, but watching this story unfold this way is lovely.
Great life story!
You must tell us what work you did on the farm. Sounds exciting.
AH! My Heart! Being Enough to yourself!
❤️🌸❤️ Thank you for sharing your story!
Love your posts with the drawings!!! So whimsical.