I have a box where I keep ideas, like props I want to play with some day. In that box sits a light bulb twice as big as my palms.
It’s hard to hold onto ideas, sometimes. They’re fleeting. Unclear. Brilliant but bygone as soon as you try to fill them with details and words.
This light bulb wove its way to the top of the box and the top of my mind, after decades encased with a clip between plastic and cardboard. “It’s my time,” it whispered, then rattled some more.
The sun had barely crept over the mesa when the light bulb woke me that day. At first it asked to simply be held and beholded. It was slippery, that idea. My lack of opposable thumbs didn’t help!
I sought a twist-tie in the kitchen, but it was too short. Then I found a rubberband in my junk drawer, where other ideas toss-tumble and jumble, waiting their turn. Now I could hold that idea more firmly, testing its shine as the sun spilled over the peaks, past orchards and pastures, into my window. I leaned into listening to the idea, so quiet at first.
When have you heard an idea beginning to form? Does it whisper? Does grab your attention with a blinding Aha!!! ???
Snowflake, having finished her breakfast, had questions about this idea. But it was too early to clarify with any coherence, so she glared instead.
“Too bright,” she mutter-meowed.
Truth. Beauty. Love. Good words. Good ideas. But where do we go with concepts like that? We must lift up ideas to be seen, examined, experienced…
Let new ideas swirl in the light of day dawning…
Go toward the light. To the window! To the view!
“Staying indoors is not good enough,” said the idea. “Go outside and play,” it insisted. Ask other bulbs how do they grow…
When queried, “How do you do? And by the way, how do you shine?” the grape hyacinths answered, “We simply bloom from our bulbs into blue. We just be as we do.”
“So that’s how you shine?” I and the light bulb replied, our question mark rising an octave.
“I’m beginning to see,” I said to the light bulb, meaning this idea about shining your light.
Aha! I declared as we brimmed full of photons. We are diamonds in the sky, day and night.
We can twinkle in daylight, we can twinkle in dark. We can dream in starlight and sunshine.
What ideas are coming to life because you’re shining your light?
How are you holding the light that YOU are, not just in your mind but your soul?
We love the idea of YOU and your light! Please keep shining brightly!
Do you have a favorite children’s book that meant the world to you growing up? Did it by chance come as a gift from another adult, not your parents? I had so many favorite books as a kid but one that sticks with me is The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, first published in 1921.
I bought a used copy of The Velveteen Rabbit at Granny’s Attic thrift shop on Vashon Island some years ago. Remember those books that say “This book belongs to” and you put your name there? I love this old book because inside is this—in unfaded, cursive handwriting, blue ink:
Dear Lin, This isn’t just a kids’ book. The message in this book is a sincere aim towards the adults of this world. Your family loves you very much, and with this book I hope you can understand how much! Love, Miff
I don’t know who Miff is, or Lin, but I do know this message warms my heart and soul, and hope it touched young Lin back then, too (circa 1975, I’d guess, from the copyright page of this Camelot edition of The Velveteen Rabbit).
I’m so excited to be sharing something now in print to be held in little hands!
Eleven Brave Pinecones is available at Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle on 11/11/23.
Eleven Brave Pinecones Debuts on 11/11
Someday I hope my new (first) children’s bookearns such an inscription. Eleven Brave Pinecones: A True Tale of Possibilities is the debut book in the Emotikin series. I’ve been playing with my Emotikin since 2003 — my inner artist personified — with countless photoshoots that I’ve come to call “metaphortography” and under-the-radar blogging for soul sustenance and self-care.
The paperback and Kindle edition of Eleven Brave Pinecones is available Saturday, November 11. I would be so honored if you’d consider buying a copy for yourself or a kid in your life! Here’s the link to the Kindle edition on Amazon, available for pre-orders now, and the paperback page will go live on 11/11.
What’s it about?
A Surprising Live Encounter Turns Despair into Delight
What would you do with eleven forlorn pinecones that fell (too soon) off their branches in a winter windstorm? What if you could find the right words to encourage them to go out in the world, just not in the way they expected?
“I know you’re not where you thought you should be. That means you’ll need brand new plans. And new plans take Courage!”
Eleven Brave Pinecones is not quite a counting book, unless you notice counting on each other and counting on your courage. This is not quite a science book, unless you count getting down to ground-level with these unique coniferous cones, catkins, needles, winged seeds, and even the weather and seasons.
This is not only a book for children, but for anyone who wonders how you move forward when the unexpected happens, by asking where we come from and how we might grow. Just as parents might explore nature with their kids, this book can start conversations about exploring their inner nature of emotions and feelings—from grief to joy, dismay to anticipation, and the difference between courage and encouragement.
This true tale of the imagination will delight and inspire readers of all ages to find their own courage to face stormy changes in life. This particular story begins on Vashon island, south of Seattle, and ends on Colorado’s Western Slope with a new group of pinecones, singing songs no less.
If you happen to live near conifer trees of any kind, you will fall even more in love with them and their pinecones!
Read this book to a child while sitting by a pine tree, then take a pinecone home to see how it unfolds!
If you loved The Hidden Life of Trees and The Overstory, Eleven Brave Pinecones will further spark your imagination and perhaps deeper kinship with the natural world of your own neighborhood.
By the way, if you ever find your own art manikin to play with, here’s how to transform this wood figure into a full-fledged Emotikin. First, simply acknowledge it has a soul. It becomes real like the Velveteen Rabbit with love. Have fun kindling your creativity with your own creative courage companion!
Available 11/11/23 in Honor of My Mom, Early Childhood Educator Extraordinaire
I choose 11/11 in honor of those 11 pinecones of course, but also to honor the second anniversary of my mom’s return to stardust. Mom was a kindergarten teacher who bought—and read—wonderful books to her classroom (and her grandson, my Wil), often with Caldecott Award-winning illustrations, many from her year in Australia where she swapped classrooms, cats, cars and homes to live there.
One of the best things mom said to me the summer before she died, when I was sharing an idea for another children’s book, was “Oh, Shel, don’t let anyone talk you out of writing that book.” In some long-lost box somewhere, Mom kept a copy of my first children’s book series, written and illustrated as an 8-year old, hand-sewn together with pink cotton thread about Timmy Turtle and Sammy Worm.
What Are Your Favorite Kids’ Books?
Please share your list of favorite children’s books in the comments. I’ve made a list of “creative courage for kids” books at Bookshop.org (I get a tiny affiliate fee from purchases here). I hope that Eleven Brave Pinecones will make it onto your list.
How You Can Help Make a Splash
Tell your friends about Eleven Brave Pinecones, especially if they have kids or grandkids.
Purchase the book at Amazon: https://bit.ly/BrvPnczK (the paperback page will be live on Saturday 11/11 and the Kindle is up for pre-orders now).
If you’re on GoodReads, you can add this to your “Want to Read” list and post a review later.
Post a review later at Amazon to help others decide.
In a few months (I’ll let you know), ask your local librarian or indie bookstore to order a copy. (The book needs time to get into “expanded distribution.”)
I’ve been saying this year that when new books make a splash, they create good ripples. I’m most grateful for any splashing around you’d be willing to do:
When your family recipe for Hurry Up Chocolate birthday cake is the most delicious ever, with its pink frosting with a few drops of Nana’s ancient almond extract, well, the cake is a thing. The thing you really look forward to and savor for dessert and breakfast the following day(s).
When your tummy finally calls Uncle and asks you to eliminate sugar, eggs, flour, butter, milk, and more, there isn’t a lot of cake you can make. There is that sugar-free aquafava chocolate mousse from Lazy Cat Kitchen, which is pretty great, but this year, after a year of quarantine, we had an even better idea.
Let’s make a sandcastle at the river-beach, light a candle, and have a birthday playdate, sans picnic. The sand was too rocky to hold a cupcake shape, but the River’s frozen snow-ice was an even better cake-and-frosting alternative.
The Candle took fire-breathing lessons from the dragon and the West Wind must’ve been having a birthday too, because she kept blowing it out.
My birthday buddies have plans for 2021, coming to books for you with their creative courage.
The Dragon figures in a fairy tale I’m calling “Once Upon a Heartstring.” It was in the last chapter of Damocles’ Wife, chapter 55, and now that I’m turning 56 it makes perfect sense to finish the story. Winter winds had brought a mean and terrible dragon that ravaged the village and farms, wounding the boy’s father who is barely beginning to heal. When the grownups can’t decide what to do, the boy decides to leave his village to go put an end to the dragon. Does he slay or befriend it, or does he learn something else entirely true? I wrote the beginning and end one starry night in 1998 but couldn’t imagine the middle back then. The middle has finally made itself known, and an illustrator is standing by to bring the story to life. This dragon is standing by as inspiration and model.
The tortoise and the big elephant are also on a journey, having met each other one day in the jungle when the little tortoise was lost. How will the poetry of their unfolding friendship help them find their way home? Dr. Mukta Panda, author of Resilient Threads, is birthing this children’s book to reimagine a path to living with joy and meaning. She and I are co-leading an online retreat together in March on Reframing Resilience, Renewing Leadership.
Emotikin is going through her archives of adventures since 2003 and deciding which ones to turn into storybooks. If you didn’t see it on Solstice, you can find her first offering, Eleven Brave Pinecones, here.
Later that 56th birthday day, by the way, my mom and dad got creative and made me a broccoli birthday cake!! It was the sweetest cake ever! Turns out you really don’t need chocolate to sing Happy Birthday to You!
I’m already feeling the creative expansion of 2021 and hope you do, too!
Today was the day. It was time to let my seashell friends and stones go back home. They’ve been gracing my windowsills nearly a year, coming to stay a few at a time over time. The spiders and dust motes made them sneeze. So in the spirit of Solstice next Tuesday, it seemed the right day to let High Tide give them a go.
So off to Point Robinson, north of the lighthouse.
Out of the basket, landing in the sand with happy chirps.
Ah, what a beautiful crew. I’m going to miss them.
They jumped onto the just-right-size driftwood to take in the view, get their bearings.
Then we sang songs. I wish you could have heard them harmonizing.
When it was time for me to say farewell, one little green stone asked to go back in my pocket. I said yes, of course, yes.
I must admit, the basket wasn’t empty when I left the beach. New stones had invited themselves for summer vacation. But that’s another story.
Saturday is a day for unwinding, Whether or not the sun in shining, Whether or not the birds are singing (which they are, by the way).
Let your stress spin off on the grass, Fertilizing green sprouts while weeding your mind.
Notice that moment when time slows enough for your soul to catch up and sing in slow motion.
<<Sorry to report that YouTube deemed the video showing Emotikin spinning on the swing was unsafe viewing for children! Use your imagination and be safe! View it there anyway.>>
Took my inner artist to the beach today on this rare dry Seattle Saturday. The sun was already behind clouds, but I didn’t care. I met two most wonderful seashells, rare to find whole, hard to find small, fun to zoom in on in wonder. Enjoy meeting them, too.
Before I could welcome the New Year
I had goodbyes to say
and thank yous to pray,
and rare sunshine showed up to take notice.
Goodbye was due to my old friend Doug Fir,
whose last wish was I dance on his growth rings.
His rings tallied up drought and the raining disasters
that helped him grow tall and yet taller.
Before my goodbyes my knees buckled and bent.
Long skinny shadows suggested forgiveness I seek
for too many days through too many years
tucked under a desk, life ignoring.
As penance and promise when I welcome the New Year,
I will measure the width of your growth rings, Doug Fir.
I will witness your years with the breadth of a hug
that tugs my heart wide, wide, wide open.
Take a deep breath now, I said to myself,
and I shifted my sorrow to solace.
Will you dance with me now, Mr. New Year? I asked.
Will you honor my friend
who is gone?
Yes I will.
Who will lead?
We’ll take turns.
You go first.
Spring leads.
Summer follows.
But it’s winter.
As I welcome the New Year
I will dance in the darkness
deep down in my heart
I will welcome the shade
and the cold.
Then let’s dance in the sunlight
that shines on us now
even though the air
is still frosty.
Bring me light
Bring me joy
Bring friendship Bring blue sky
Help me ring in the New Year with gladness.
Make me silly
Make me strong
Make me giddy
Make me wrong
to sit too long at my desk without playing.
Help me laugh
Help me sing
Help me flap my strong wings
Help me land on my feet
Please stand with me each day,
Mr. New Year.
May I count my own growth rings
this year as I change.
May I remember to bow
and say thank you.
May I take time to dance
and play with my friends.
And sing wondrous songs with my soul.*
Thanks for dancing with me, Mr. New Year!
~ You’re welcome! ~
*Big thanks to my friend Alan Claassen for permission to put his wondrous song in this video:
I made Monday a Sunday.
Slept in. Dawdled. Worked only one hour.
Then I went to the beach by myself plus my soul and my snapshot machine. And beach blanket.
High tide was on its way in. So much for exploring.
My self said lets sit. No need to explore. We can see what we see from this spot on the rocks.
She was right. Our eyesight grew sharper with a short-sighted focus. What could we see in the sand and the gravel and driftwood from here? A lot it turns out.
Like flat rocks to stack, like thoughts on a shelf.
And blue mussel halves of size large and medium. Then lo and behold, a super small two-halves still-intact whole!
Add a half ancient shell with hole for a string to add to my collection back home, then a super small shell of the same kind, sans string hole.
Clear sandblasted glass then a green shard.
My eyes were having so much fun noticing, I mostly took pics with my mind.
I noticed how high tide comes in with so much stuff in the swells. It matches the muck in my mind that’s needing releasing.
The waves serenaded. The sun played hide and seek. The sand bugs jumped up and down in delight or delirium; it was hard to know what they meant in their popcorn-like frenzy.
Time slowed. Time passed. Sea slowed and did a 180 sans fanfare.
By the time dinner called I noticed the waves were clear of all stuff. So was my mind.
I walked down to the meadow on Saint Patrick’s Day to visit my friend, Mr. Gnome. The daffodil sisters were shouting with their hyacinth smell for me to come over. They had something to say.
I stood on a log to get closer. The eldest leaned down. I peered into her face, and inhaled as big as I could.
“Oh my gosh, you smell divine!”
“Why, thank you,” she said, on behalf of the whole clump of girls. And they giggled and waved with delight.
“The slugs have been bugging us,” the eldest told me. “Their breath is so bad. Can you help?”
“I’m not at all sure,” I replied. “What can I do? They live here, too.”
“Just look at these holes in our petals!” she cried.
“You may look bedraggled,” I said, “But that’s what comes from a full season of growth. You’re living your life. You’re feeding the slugs. You’re perfuming the air with your heavenly notes. You’re lovely narcissus!”
Then I added, “You’ve made this meadow a sight to behold. I’m beholden to you and your crew.
“And I know for a fact, you’ve blessed and impressed more than me, the slugs and the bees. We’re so lucky you live here. I don’t know what to do, but let’s ask Mr. Gnome.”
I knew with his spidey-sense ears that he’d heard the whole conversation.
Mr. Gnome simply whispered, “I’ll have a talk with the slugs.”
Bring blue sky
Emotikin World 