Jodi’s Blog ... From the Artist’s Heart



And then...

Painting these every day is such joy. And it is surprising how much you can learn, every day. To see how yellow is not just yellow, but green and brown and white and red... It's like when you paint skin tones... and you see that there actually is no black or white... just a multitude of colors, and to achieve this feeling of life, of depth behind the colors, the skin, the peel, you have to be loose, free, and let it just happen. And then the beauty comes. And maybe that's the line right there, "And then the beauty comes..." Today, it might be in the letting go, it might be after the rain, it might be after the...

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The Call

I listened to this podcast on NPR a couple of days ago. Here is a summary of the program by Chris Kavanagh: This week’s episode of the popular NPR podcast This American Life featured a touching story (available to listen to here) about how some people in Japan who had lost loved ones in the 2011 tsunami were making a pilgrimage (of sorts) to a phone booth on a hill in the town of Otsuchi in order to ‘speak with’, or more accurately send messages to, their deceased relatives. The so-called ‘wind phone’ (kaze no denwa) is comprised of a simple disconnected rotary phone which is located in a white phone booth that overlooks the Pacific ocean. The phone is...

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The Possibility of Joy

It's not easy to live in this world. But maybe seeing that others have, maybe knowing that winters have been survived, maybe there's comfort in that, even joy. And joy far surpasses the cold. So she would carry it with her, that house near the lake, weathered, but not beaten. She carried it with her, and when the wind blew through her, around her, she held it close, knowing the winter had that power, to welcome spring. And she did too. She had that power. And they could see it. They could see in her, always, the possibility of joy.

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Never fading.

"Do you think beauty fades?" she asked him. "I suppose," he said, though not totally agreeing with the word fade. "Perhaps it just changes. Or maybe we change. Each year the flowers are different. Are they more beautiful? Less beautiful after a storm? Not for me. I don't know. I guess we all decide that for ourselves." She hadn't yet gotten to a half smile, and he added, "The world is full of beauty. Everything beneath my wings is spectacular. I mean, really spectacular! But you, my love, your beauty, is flight itself. That can never change. Will never change. And certainly, impossible to fade. You carry me." She smiled, fully now, the kind that grows and glows from within....

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No one survives.

She hadn't seen her for such a long time. When was it? Well, not since... she stopped, not really wanting to think about it. Did they really talk about it anymore? And here she was... right in front of her. She was surprised to see how light she looked... how free... almost like Spring. Should she tell her? She was happy for her, and also a bit curious, so she began. "You look great," she said, not meaning it to sound like a question, but feared somehow that it had. "I feel good." "You do?" she asked. "I do." She knew she hadn't convinced her, and so she repeated it. "I do." "That's amazing," she continued. "Wonderful, good for you."...

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