New Book: Transformations Of The Sun

I have this belief about our lives being the ultimate form of creativity.

We are the art; forever creating and coloring and changing the being of our canvas as we learn and grow. And the choices we make in our lives are the external expressions of that art. What we create and produce and share and try to bring to light is a reflection of our inner being.

I have a new book out today, Transformations of the Sun: 122 passages on finding new life after loss, and as I was doing the final proofing of it over the weekend it struck me how artistic of a book it is.

A 122 passage long collage of poems, essays, prose, and reflections, which create a bigger image of my journey from Alaska to Kauai and my personal journey of change since losing my brother in 2016- Transformations is my version of a multi-media canvas.

It’s real and vulnerable. It’s human. It’s filled with struggles and grace and the truth about what it was like to walk away from a well-grooved, well-practiced life at 40 years of age and move to an island for reinvention. It scared me to write parts of it and own my experiences to such a degree, which is how I know I’m writing from a real space.

And how I know I needed to write the words.

But I’m not scared anymore. The act of putting words to and owning my experience, allowed me to claim myself in a greater way, release my fears, and create new space on my canvas.

As Transformations is a sequel to my grief book, Lamentations of The Sea, I will share that I believe there is a third book coming, and I’ve been writing a trilogy all along without fully knowing it. But that’s a future work, which hasn’t been created yet, because I’m currently discovering and living my own art.

In the meantime, Transformations is out and you can find a copy here if you feel inspired! May we all keep finding whatever change we need to be our truest versions of self in this life and keep creating authentic expressions of being.

Love,
BethAnne

p.s. The empath, intuitive, and psychologist in me feels the inclusive need to add that I write and live life from the inside out. It’s my process, I’ve learned to embrace it, it works for me. But some people live life from the outside in- they need to create the external structure to help figure out their insides, and that kind of architecture is also artistry. All ways are valid- it’s just one giant circle of choices filled with infinite ways of being, creating, and processing life. And what a beautiful thing that is.


August Haze

The summer is thick and syrupy right now. Humidity drips from the trees, and there’s a heaviness to the jungle air, which dropping down to the ocean relieves.

August has come with a density of energy, which both stills and quickens a deepening sense of mystery.

July passed in a blink.

I’m not entirely sure where the month went, except to say I find the creative process circumvoluted where a moment can feel like days and days can pass in a moment, and somewhere in the middle of all of that new words, ideas, and creations spring forth.

And to be fair, July was also painted with grief over the loss of our sweet old dog Sam. Grief’s undertow has a way of taking you down the river to places you didn’t expect to go. It can take a while to swim upstream and get back on track.

Or to let the water carry you until you find yourself washed out and up onto new ground and you find a new track.

It occurred to me the other day that I think I’ve been reorienting myself and finding a new track since the day my brother died.

Brent was the catalyst for pulling up all my roots in Alaska and transplanting to Kauai, and though I think I would have still made this move eventually, I can say with certitude that losing him pushed me to do it Now.

And not wait until Later.

And here I am Now. It’s been a little over a year, and as I take in the whole of the year, there’s reflections and lessons and learnings I couldn’t see in the middle. Read More


Above The Clouds

This is probably the fifth or sixth post I’ve tried to write over the last week. We’ll see if this is the magic one where I actually follow through on finding the traction to finish it and press “publish.”

I once wrote- about 4 months after losing my brother- that my dance with grief had become a 2 steps forward, 5 steps back, side shuffle kind of situation. And I’m feeling that.

In the 2 weeks since we lost Sam, I’ve had moments of gaining momentum and feeling reoriented and optimistic. These are brief spans where I pull myself up high enough to see above the clouds and remember there is still so much beautiful territory of life to explore.

But those periods are short and sparse. More often than not the ground crumbles out from under me, and I find myself collapsing back onto the grounds of grief.

I know there’s gifts here, but I hate this territory.

I’ve been here so much the past few years that part of me is in denial over being here again. And the knowledge- based on previous experience and journeys- that there are no short-cuts, bypasses, bargains, time-warps or bail outs is a tiresome nut to crack.

I know that in these lands one just keeps moving as best you can, try to navigate whatever comes up, and work on taking care of your heart. Eventually you’ll find that you’ll have more and more moments where you can see above the clouds, gleaning hope from the horizon. Read More


Angel

It has been four days since we said good-bye to our sweet, old dog, Samwise. He was diagnosed with cancer about a month ago, and though they thought he would have about 6 months left, things went sideways this time last week and quickly spiraled.

It was simply his time.

Even as a grief writer and author, I’ve found myself at a loss to really convey the depth of what I’m feeling or the nature of our relationship. Though perhaps anybody who has been lucky enough to be blessed with the love of a sweet old dog already knows the depth and nature of which I speak.

They say that those who have cancer travel close to God, and I figure this must be true of Sam as there was something so pure and angelic about him he always felt otherworldly. He was the guardian angel of our family and inhabited the deepest and softest part of our hearts.

And so I’ve found myself on a new grief passage, learning new lessons on grief that I don’t really feel like experiencing or learning. Recent years have brought a lot of loss into my life and after a while you get tired of the losing.

But nobody ever wants to take a grief passage; they are never convenient and rarely welcome. Yet that doesn’t matter to grief- it simply appears in its own time, and we find ourselves unwittingly stepping onto its landscape.

Grief comes in and rearranges us, and all I’ve learned to do is offer myself up for the rearranging. Read More


Thick & Thin

It is difficult to trust in uncertain times.

Trust Life. Trust the Process. Trust Spirit. Trust Higher Power. Trust that it will all work out.

There’s many dimensions and layers of trust, and yet it all melts down to the same core truth- either we trust that things are moving towards our own good and wellness, or we don’t.

At least that’s how it translates in my mind as I come back round to the question of: “Well girl, do you believe the universe has your back or not?” Because that answer makes all the different in my mental and emotional state and how I go about my days.

I write these words as my sweet dog Sam is laboring to breathe next to me. He has cancer, and though we were told he has about 6 months left, and he’s been having more good days than bad, thanks to the medications he is on – – this is one of the bad days.

All the plans I had for today have been deferred to just be present with him, watch over him, and be available for care.

This news has come during a rocky season in life. Not rocky bad per say, but not rocky road ice-cream awesome either. Just rocky in the sense that I’ve been in a change cycle since moving to Kauai almost a year ago. Almost everything has been in flux. Read More