What Frames Our Frailties

The Cloverview, Notes from a Wonder-Led Life. (Formerly, the Saturday Stroll) Also— 100 Days of Wonder | Week 11

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I know we just named this little mailing, but to be honest… it just wasn’t gelling, so welcome to my wild creative process. I try things and when they don’t work, I try new things!

There is a little patch of clover nestled along the short stretch of sidewalk from my cottage front door to the driveway. It has captured my imagination more than most things these days.

We are in one of the worst droughts in a century right now in North Florida. But this little patch is a bright audacious green in the midst of all the creeping brown.

I have a penchant for naming things. Possibly more like a compulsion to identify and whimsify the world around me. It’s a coping mechanism.

My car glints red sparkles in the sun and is named Ruby. My crutches are affectionately called Goodness and Mercy respectively, because they follow me all the days of my life and are strong enough to walk on.

Photo by Anastasiya Dalenka on Unsplash

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Our Week 11 Prompts ⬇️

100 Days of Wonder | Week 11

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This week, after 10 years of living in her, I have finally named my Florida home and studio Cloverview Cottage. It took a decade of living inside this space to find its true name. Some things just take time to become what they are.

And that played a part in changing this to The Cloverview. It’s also a wee play on words Cloverview/Overview… 🤣. The name makes me giggle and in times like these, I need laughter about as much as I need air.

Have you ever had an outfit that is almost right? It’s just a tiny bit tight in one spot and the buckle isn’t that noticeable… But it isn’t comfortable enough to relax confidently in. Friend, you have permission to change the things that no longer work for you or your creativity.

Decades ago I lived in Calcutta, India for a time. I got passably proficient in turning 6 yards of fabric into a sari that mostly stayed put with the help of safety pins. But on the corner of my street was a tailor where I had my salwar kameezes custom-made to size. He’d barely measure me when I dropped off fabric and 3 days later, I had perfectly fitting clothes. It was like magic.

I whipped out my watercolors for our image. You’d be surprised to know I have to take my own advice about making time for my art.

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If something isn’t fitting right now, maybe it’s because you have grown. Not because something is wrong. Growth and change are signs of being alive. You have permission to expand without shame.

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From my time in South Sudan circa 2011

The air hung swollen, pregnant with rains ready to be delivered. The dry season was bowing out with fits and bluster begrudgingly making way for the wet to come.

I watched the winds blow the first real cloud cover we had seen in months onto our evening horizon. How so much in my world in Africa spoke to me of the wonder and beauty found in the simplest moments.

I sat with the children on our compound in the fading light huddled together with bursts of giggles taking silly shots on my camera.

All at once my crutches went walking away without me in the confident clutches of our then almost-four-year-olds.

Everyone dissolved into laughter. I told them if they took my crutches, they would have to carry me. I think they strongly considered those comments a challenge. But I can only hop so far on one leg.

I watched them joyfully turn the crutches I lean on into picture frames for the kind of laughter that makes you gasp between gales of guffaws.

Could the very things that carry the weight of my frailty become a frame for deep-down, belly-clutching joy?

I can say now, 15 grueling, devastatingly beautiful years later, with complete conviction and utter certainty… How we embrace and frame our frailties might be the most important key for unlocking the depths of this kind of transformative joy that carries us.

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My friend K.J. Ramsey has one of the most powerful memoirs I have ever read about surviving medical trauma and heart breaking loss. It is filled with THIS deep, stubborn, tenacious joy that doesn’t bypass pain; rather, it finds its place of thriving right in the middle of it. I’ll be sharing more on my personal experience reading this gift during her book launch week. But click this banner to read more on her website and preorder her book. It holds special relevance for those of us living with chronic illness and pain.

Also, I got the delight to design her book launch website. It was such an honor. Preorders are critical in the book world. So if you are interested and able, consider getting a copy. Plus this is the link to her gorgeous Substack: Embodied

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

— Robert Frost

So my friend, what is one frailty you have encountered this week that might be holding an unexpected invitation to wonder and joy?

What is your ordinary resilient clover patch blooming at your feet?

(This isn’t about faking it until you make it or toxic hype, both of which I am allergic to. It’s about finding those micro moments of goodness right in the middle of the things that are hard.)

I am so incredibly grateful for you being here. For your comments and support and restacks… and all the ways you are pivotal in building this community together.

Love from the bottom of my heart,