I’ve gone there and back again. 

The year 2020 promised so much, then turned very quickly into an alternate reality. I took a job at the local arts center and after two years, I’ve stepped down. Now I’m slipping into the liminal space of keeping time by the angle of the sun and measuring the season by what’s in bloom and which flying, swimming, and crawling visitors I encounter. No longer a slave to the clock and calendar. 

<take a deep breath> 

That said, I’ve learned so much about another distinct community of people. To add to the many places I’ve been, where I’ve emerged into different expectations and values based on culture, education, and region. I faced a multitude of expectations for how someone should move in the world. 

<inhale>

Sorry. A little dramatic, but yes, it feels that way. Like I’ve been so pushed in so many directions that I’ve been hammered thin. But…

<take two deep breaths> 

I’m ready to bring the Trillium Center back. Not just reopen, but get to the original mission. The Trillium Center isn’t a place, it’s more like the center of a wheel.

<deep breath in> 

 The spinning of the wheel will start with a small group of people getting projects in motion with art, craft, the experience of living in place, and exploring what it means to be resilient and receptive. Some ideas…

<OMG>

Who knows? I’m still trying to figure it out. 

<breathe out>

What interests you?
How have you distilled your spirit in the last two years?
What have you created?

<deep breath>

Get in touch. I’d love to hear from you. I’ll be updating my website and social media soon, so don’t be alarmed if it looks like I’m still stuck in 2020. I’m working my way through the murkiness of consensus reality to emerge again in the plant world. It’s going to take a while to bounce back and put together some programs. It’s going to take a while to reopen the Trillium Center – and honestly, I’m not even sure that’s what I’m going to do. It depends on too many questions that I don’t have answers for yet.