sorry about that

Just when I was getting all geared up to flood this blog with a bunch of stuff, other commitments got in the way. Aaargh. Okay, enough with the excuses! Just this morning I found and added to my Google Reader the blog of crafter/graphic designer Donna Downey. She gives the aptly named Inspired. workshops and while I haven't tried them a quick Google around has yielded nothing but praise on the ideas and execution of this class.

Spelunking around her blog and website, I found this page/project she did, which has a quote that just blew me away--plus it's presented so prettily!

See the page and her tutorial for making it here!

She also has a section called Campaign for Creativity and made this awesome badge for anyone who wants it. Guess who wanted it bad so it's now on the sidebar of her blog? ;)

it's hard, but it's real

Okay, I actually had another thing I planned to post, but I just opened one of my forums and someone had shared this link, and now I want to share it too.

Mothers to me are a special kind of hero. I know mine was a beautiful one. I'm grateful to many of my friends who've shared their experiences with motherhood with me. It used to feel so alien to me, like I couldn't even entertain the possibility of it happening to me. But now I look forward to when it happens and hope it happens soon :)

That being said, there are also mothers who face extraordinary challenges, more so than others. But I've always been a believer in the more challenging something is, the more you realize how much you are loved. And that is what is truly inspiring about this story--the love.

I also realized that many times what can be truly inspiring are the moments when you are real. I don't know Kelle personally, but what she has shared here is very, very real. You cannot help but feel it. And even more, I want to cheer her on, and love her just as her family and friends love her.

Read on for Kelle's story of her Nella Cordelia's birth :) And um, keep tissues handy.

heart of an olympian

What does it feel like to be amidst thousands who know exactly what you've lost?

I haven't really been following the Winter Olympics in Vancouver--for one, I don't have cable; for another, my country probably won't give full coverage, considering we don't even HAVE winter or snow. So the name Joannie Rochette didn't ring a bell at all--at least not until I'd read that Yahoo headline that said her mother had suddenly passed away.

There have already been many articles that talk about this Canadian figure skater's strength and tenacity in choosing to proceed with the competition, despite her loss. She had to skate about 48 hours after finding out, which was last Tuesday, and then again on Thursday evening. Even the most exacting of critics said she skated clean and her scores were her personal best; and in the end, she got to take the bronze medal home.

But the moment in my head now is this: the instant she finished her short program last Tuesday, when amidst the roar of thousands who cheered, her face crumpled and she embraced having a tearful moment on the ice. She'd just skated her program for the first time without her mother. Over the resounding support, one could hear the commentator say, "There is no bigger stage than the Olympic games. But this skate, this moment, is much more than the competition."

Later on, as she waited for her scores, there was a moment where she acknowledged all the support, thanking everyone who were with her, who are still with her--Canadians and not alike. All that in mind comes an expansion of my question above: what does it feel like to be amidst thousands who know exactly what you've lost, and are there for you every step of the way, full of encouragement and sympathy and hope?

That is the mind-blowing, heartwarming thought for me: I don't think there was anyone in the stadium--or even the world--who didn't want her to skate and finish her program. And her triumph became a testament to the world's love and support for her. I think it was also a beautiful example of collective conciousness :)

All of which showed exactly how strong Joannie Rochette's heart is--going beyond her grief and pain and skating straight for her goal: representing her country and winning an Olympic medal. That for me is exactly what the heart of an Olympian is.

Photo from getty images/yahoo.com

yellow!

Which is just me being cute at saying hello. But it also happens to be one of my favorite colors (I love the combination of yellow, orange, and green) and will probably figure much in this blog o'mine. It's such a happy happy color and never fails to make me smile. A swatch of bright yellow always uplifts my spirit.

I'm a creative person, have been my whole life. I love brainstorming ideas; I love that moment when my brain just goes "ping!" and I get that brilliant nugget and all I want to do is run away with it--literally and figuratively. I mean, when ideas come, and you know it's a d@mn good one, your whole body reacts--mind gets sharper and more focused, back straightens, eyes flash. Suddenly your brain processes zip through possibilities at lightspeed.

I wanted to put together a blog that has ideas exactly of that kind; things that jumpstart thoughts, feelings, and even more ideas. I want to corner as many of the world's bright ideas as I can into this space :) I want to share the very best of what it means to be human. It's just too easy to whine and say there's nothing worth anything out in the world. How about looking for everything that's worth something? :)

Photo from the Lance Armstrong Foundation