I’ve been thinking…deeply, quietly, pondering, musing, dreaming. This is my favorite season and I do a good deal of my personal cogitating and inward-looking during the respite of Autumn’s softening light. Time for counting my blessings, bringing in the harvest of my emotions, reminding myself that, no matter what my circumstances,

today 16

It’s time to bring in the last roses before the first frost.


But First: a happy update. My October adventure along California’s beautiful coastline with my beloved sister Kim was amazing! We talked and talked–laffed and laffed–cried and cried–played on the beach every day, read books, scribbled in our journals, ate at the Sea Shanty, and stayed in the most delightfully charming place in Cayucos, the Seaside Motel! We LOVED it!!!

My sister reminded me who I am, what my dreams are, and “from wench I came.” I’ve always thought of myself as a sort of orphan, but she reminded me I have a “family” in her & her extended tribe. And a place at the hearth of life beside her.

Sisters are a powerful thing! I’m so grateful for the magic of the beach trip and all she taught me while we were there. My sister  re-ignited my spark and lit new lamps of hope in my heart. Thank You Kim and family!


So, go put the tea kettle on my friends, get us a yummy, warm-from-the-oven snack, curl up here in front of the fire, and let me tell you all about what I’ve been thinking…pondering, musing…

Since I returned from the sea, I’ve been letting in lots of things I didn’t have time (or mental/emotional space) for before I left. I’ve been “getting real” with lots of things that I had all but refused to think about in the three years of active care and cancer treatments for my Sweetheart. I’ve been letting in the love and concern, the caring and wisdom, the solace and thoughtful advice of those who love me. And, like the changing seasons, I’m changing too; letting go of some things and embracing others in new ways.

I’m even daring to embrace BIG NEW DREAMS, for the first time in years!


A huge transition is coming. I can feel it rumbling under my feet and stirring in my heart, like a playful little breeze, skipping scarlet & golden leaves along the illuminated path ahead of us.

I’m not sure where it will take me or what it has in store for me. All I can do is trust.


My husband Albert has made a brave, thoughtful decision to cease his grueling cancer treatments after a very long & dedicated effort (with the wonderful, compassionate care of Donald Brooks & Linda at AZ Oncology). He has chosen to step off the chemo treadmill in favor of a much enhanced, short-term, better “quality of life.” Far from being sad, this decision has really re-energized and re-inspired us to think about “what now?”

A “what now” considerably  constrained by his illness, my aversion to the heat, the constantly changing chaotic dynamic of world politics, the cruel dispensation of various dark stars who, apparently, are in love with going retrograde, and our ever tightening purse strings which make options fewer and fewer. We’re both dedicated to a “what now” that’s all about love and trust and steady good cheer. Together.


The time has come. Changes are afoot.

Time to shift our balance, hunker down, live out however many days there are ahead of us with love and grace.


Not sure exactly what that’s going to look like. Or how it’s going to work out.  Or where it’s going to take us. Or when, precisely, it’s going to happen.

All I can do is trust.


It’s been a hard, hard, HARD up-hill climb for both of us these last several years. Between my takotsubo heart attack and Albert’s multiple myeloma.  Through trials and tribulations. Through sorrows and joys. Through years of energetic commitment to our passions, causes, responsibilities, and obligations. We’ve braved it ALL, together. Mostly holding hands. True friends. Comrades. Loving companions. Partners. NO MATTER WHAT! 


But now it’s time for peace and calm and rest. These last few seasons of our lives, we want nothing more than a new nest, a peaceful roost in the trees, a cozy fire in the wood stove, a good book, and our faithful old dog Gus beside us.  We’re ready to release most of our “material world” stuff, jettison our old, ill-fitting  roles & responsibilities,  and strike out on a new path with re-inspired energy and enthusiasm for whatever moments we have left.

We’ve decided to…


and look for somewhere softer, sweeter, less demanding of our energies. A place where we can write, read, create, and just BE for however long we have. Together.

Our philosophy?


So, stay tuned.

Big, Happy, Good News is Coming!


Catch every sunset that you can!

With Love and Trust In Transitions,


© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved



By Kaitlin Meadows



O my gosh! It’s been such a long while since I’ve had a free moment to write to you and let you know how I am and what’s up with me. Thanks for your patience and love! It was a danged bumpy summer for me, with some big setbacks, unexpected derailments, and serious muddles–but, the good news is…I’m back! I’m a little dented and dinged, exhausted and frayed, but so happy it is finally Autumn! Can I hear an “AMEN”!


I finally feel released from the great oppression that is Tucson’s summer heat! It’s time to reconvene Cottage fun, spread my wings in new creative pursuits, and have some magical adventures. I’ve a big gathering basket full of new classes and artist date ideas for you, I’ve got a handful of exciting art commissions to work on, and, guess what, I’m finally going to have a tiny vacation from all the stresses and woes in my life!

The sunflowers are blooming…


and the nights are cool enough to resume listening to music under the stars again at my favorite venue La Cocina!

I have a load of Fall vegetables and herbs to plant, a new tire for my trusty old red bicycle named Gladys (after my favorite Flavia de Luce series by Alan Bradley), my friend Zizz and I are planning to resume our sunset saunters (and gabfests!), and Pimm and I are going to spend more time hiking and foraging about on Mount Lemmon to get a real taste of autumn weather & color!

But, best of all, it’s finally time for a little trip with my amazing sister in California!


We’re on our way for a week of off-season frolic in a quiet little beach town along the central California coast.


Our bags are packed with art supplies, new journals, twinkle lights and mermaid themed decorations for our room, and seven blissful days of walking the shoreline, romping in the waves, and giggling ourselves crazy! Two sea loving sisters, no waiting!


I’ll take lots of pictures and tell you all about it when I return…meanwhile, please, please, please hurry and sign up for lots of classes, visit the Girlz With HeART tab above to see the very inspiring work of the young women I mentor, and come along on some of the fun Creativity Chix adventures we’ll share this Autumn.



and please do your part to hold grace, love, and kindness in your heart in these crazy times!

Happy Autumn At Last!!!!


Love and good tidings,


Images gratefully shared from Pinterest.

© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved



By Kaitlin Meadows

Learning To Breathe


I’d like to take Italian lessons and learn how to weld. I’d like to build a meandering stone wall (a la Andy Goldsworthy) and live in a tiny cabin on the edge of a musical creek. I’d like to walk the Camino de Santiago like my friend Maria or make art journals as beautiful and meaningful as my friend Anne’s. I’d like to tango like my friend Heather and zip line through a Costa Rican rain forest.

But, this summer, I’m busy. I’m learning to breathe.

Learning to pause. Learning to savor. Learning to BE.

It’s not as easy as it sounds.

It’s like meditation. How hard could it be to just sit with an empty mind? Very hard, as it turns out, danged near impossible it seems for people like me who are always thinking, feeling, dreaming, creating.

But here’s the key…


There are soooo many distractions, obligations, siren calls, and relentless assaults on our personal peace. There are a million things to do and see and get done. But this long, hot, endless Tucson summer, I am just trying to learn to breathe.

In and out. Innnnn…and….outtttttt.  Deeply in…deeply out. Calm and steady. Slow and conscious. The sacred act of breathing.

So simple and so hard.

And by slowing down to breathe I have discovered so much about myself.


I have given myself the gift of time not scripted by work or obligations, not constrained by chores or the demands of living in a broken world. 

Time to enjoy working on several big juicy art projects, writing a new collection of poetry, returning to the lost art of writing long handwritten letters to dear ones (in your mailbox soon Mariah).

Time to read scads of fantastic books. Time to watch oodles of good movies from the Pima Public Library’s wonderful Kanopy service. Time to sort, organize, and release tons of “stuff.”

I’ve been spending many fine hours with my Sweetheart, moments made so much sweeter and more poignant as our mortality looms larger.

I have definitely turned off the blare of media and bad news, the spew of drama and discontent, and decided to consciously embrace the theory that life is more about attitude than circumstance.

I have decided to be happy. Even though…the world is falling apart, the summer heat is exhausting, the car needed unexpected, costly repairs, and I somehow sprained my right wrist.

I have decided to be grateful…even though I’m worried about how to keep the Cottage afloat and the curved-bill thrashers have mocked every effort to keep the tomatoes safe on the vine, and , did I mention, I sprained my right wrist?


That means not feeding myself all the toxic spew of politics, not lamenting what I wish I had or used to be able to do or all the places it is clear I will never see (goodbye dreams of New Zealand, Borneo, and returning to Ireland).

I’ve learned as an old crone, made fragile from a long life of very hard work, blighted by Lyme Disease and a heart attack, seriously limited now in my once robust physical stamina, that for everything there is a season and this season for me is about restoration and re-enchanting my life with creativity, friends, and the small, beautiful moments that I might have missed if I hadn’t slowed down enough to savor them.


I’m officially out of the drama business. I have given up most of my ambition, striving, achieving, and exhaustive running in circles in favor of just being compassionate, kind, and genuinely loving. It’s a full-time job NOT ranting about politics, crying over the woes of the world, feeling hopeless and defeated by the daily outrages against reason, civil discourse, and human decency.  But I have firmly come to believe that…


So, hard as it is, I am working to simplify and deepen my life.


Like my dear friend Sandi in Santee, I believe part of my spiritual practice is trying to be a radiant, loving, thoughtful, creative woman, working with my hands and my heart in the small, sacred tendings of garden and loved ones.

As the world cranks itself up into one frenzy after another, one crisis and then three more, I am trying to learn to just content myself with living a simpler life, gradually paring back my human footprint on the delicate ecology of the planet.

I am working on opening my heart in these hard times when the heart can get so bruised and battered that it almost feels safer to close it off, board it up, and not feel all the sadness and woe.

Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t easy. It doesn’t come naturally to me not to work, work, workgive, give, give…but the task of elders, it seems to me, is to have time to share, stories to tell, wisdom to exchange, experience to count on. Eldership requires a long, hard look at what is, not what was, what might be, or what we might want it to be.


And part of loving this new phase of my life is that it gives me time for immense gratitude. For friends like 96 year old Mari who continues to read and think and write and be fully present in the world through her own sense of gratitude for each moment of her well-lived life. For books and music and the fellowship of the Cottage tribe. For my raggedy little shack in the desert where there is fresh food and clean sheets and a little dog named Gus who adds joy to every day. For my dear sister Kim and the magical time we are finally able to share after decades apart. For the sunrise through the clouds, the call of the hawk on the high thermals, the laughter of children. For soooo much more.


So please, take a moment, right THIS moment, to breathe…to be grateful…to give yourself a break. Stop waiting for things to get better, the stars to properly align, the lottery ticket to pay off…stop comparing yourself to what you don’t have and start making an inventory of what you do have. Stop waiting for someone else, something else to make you happy…


Know that I am a fellow wayfarer on this rocky road with you and that at the Creative Cottage I offer you a cool drink from my canteen, a safe rest from the world’s tragedies, and a place to prop open your heart to receive the immeasurable blessings of friendship and respite.

Come play…

One deep breath at a time,

Love, Kaitlin


© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.


By Kaitlin Meadows

Practicing Peace


Summer in Tucson, Arizona is my least favorite season. I am NOT a hot weather person. An Irish lass by heritage, a redwood forest hippie by inclination, 82 degrees would be my ideal summer high temperature…preferably by a body of water (I love oceans best but a creek will do)…under a canopy of trees (redwoods are the best but I’ll take big, old oaks too)…in my daydreams I live in a hut by a river or in a shack by the sea–never, ever under a saguaro.

But here I am. And here I must be. And it’s up to me to make the best of it.

There will be no vacation this year. No trip to the beach. No jaunt up to the Sierras to see my sister. No respite. I’m stuck. Two more months of “too hot for humans” in Tucson.

Can’t tackle any big projects. Can’t spend too much time outdoors. Can’t abide the heat and the glare. Can’t take another moment of the pathetic high crimes & felonies of our politicians. Can’t. It’s too much! It could drive a woman CRAZEE!

So, my “homework” for this sizzling season is Practicing Peace.


Not “visualizing” peace or “praying” for peace, but actually WORKING toward BEING peace.

Slowing down. Appreciating. Taking in. Breathing out.

Neither creating nor participating in drama.

Reading. Writing. Sewing. Staring off into space.

Re-grouping. Replenishing.


Observing the antics of two fledgling Great Horned Owls born in a high crook of our huge Grandfather Mesquite.

Blessed to see the delicate unfolding of the fleeting, one day blossoming, ceres cacti.

ceres 3

Sitting on the front porch with my Sweetheart to watch the sunset after a monsoon storm.


What I am beginning to understand is, these days, 


My days of scurrying around, trying to juggle 15 balls in the air (while whistling the entire score of Evita) are over. It’s time to let soooo much go…to make choices that promote my personal peace…


Eliminating as many old, worn-out obligations and “have to’s” as I can has helped me enter a wonderful new phase in my life. It gives me so many more opportunities to be tuned in to the amazing moments of ordinary life.

I was deeply inspired by one of my favorite mentors, Asia from One Willow Apothecaries in a recent blog post in which she wrote about choosing peace.

You can choose peace, even when everything in the world is telling you that you must push, strive, change, transform, end it all, or begin something new.

You can choose peace, even if that means upsetting the expectations of others.
You can choose peace and still change your life from the inside out. In fact, sometimes peace is the path to transformation itself.
You can choose peace and still be blessed with an abundance of creativity, love, nourishment and magic— it’ll just arrive differently. Less like an asteroid, and more like a white votive, glowing steady in a hallowed alcove.

So whenever a new opportunity or invitation comes up ask yourself: Will this increase my sense of well-being? Does this support me in nourishing my overall existence? Will this help me cultivate peace?”

It’s amazing, if you make the conscious decision to step off the roller coaster, jump off the carousel, and not feel so compelled to do do do, buy buy buy, go go go, worry worry worry, your life gradually starts filling with peace.

One day at a time.


And remember, my life ain’t easy. It’s complicated. There’s much going on. It’s not as though I don’t still have a huge number of responsibilities and chores. Keeping my tiny art studio and classes afloat, tending to the needs of my very ill husband, being a writer and an artist and a social justice activist, maintaining our small oasis at WildHeart Ranch to be a vibrant sanctuary for critters and plants…there’s plenty to do but…


That’s what I’m doing this summer–what about you?

Here’s my prayer…


what’s yours?

Let’s you and I meet, out beyond the heat and hate, out under the big oak, by the side of the singing creek. Let’s take a picnic and spend all day playing, laughing, talking, and dreaming…

Together, let’s always


Love And Peace From Kaitlin

© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.




By Kaitlin Meadows



Summer in the Southwest is like winter in the East. Time to hibernate.

Summer in the Southwest is a great time to stay indoors, out of the heat, “in the studio,” spending long, happy hours puttering, playing, and creating.

The above picture is not really my studio of course–but the one I dream of. A cute little gypsy wagon, a boho vardo, a magical retreat down a winding green path, snuggled in the deep, cool woods.


It’s a place entirely set aside for JOY!


A place where my books and paints and projects can be left out & messy because


and play is sacred work for an artist. 


Of course, in my dreams, it has fabulous storage options,


and innovative ways to store all my loot.



It would have infinite wall space, a record player (I LOVE records!),


and, definitely, a cozy day bed where I could relax with the kitties between creative outbursts.


In my magical creative space, there would be all the tools I’ve ever dreamed of


and a huge, high wall I could hang big canvases while I worked on them.


While we’re dreaming, my studio would have all the light and air and space I needed to feel inspired…


plus a colorful little lounge where I could sit with my friends, sipping intoxicating beverages and laughing all day.


In my perfect studio, I’d make raw, powerful, evocative work like Freda


because, after all,  it’s all about the ART…


So, picture me in my fantastic imaginary perfect studio, spending the whole long, hot, glaring summer ensconced; dabbling, dancing, reading, & painting in a creative chaos of joy…


because, after all,


But, for now, I find my art making space where I can–sometimes at the Creative Cottage, sometimes in my converted garage studio, The Vortex, and sometimes just on the kitchen table. The important thing I’ve learned is


So, please come join me, in your fancy studio or on the kitchen table,


Because, really, summer in the Southwest is for hibernating!


Love and Happy Creating,



© Copyright, Kaitlin meadows. All Rights Reserved.





By Kaitlin Meadows

A Healing Hiatus


Thank you for waiting for me. For sending cards and leaving messages, for bringing food and extending well wishes through the ether. Thank you for holding my place in your heart and trusting that I would be back just as soon as I possibly could.

It’s been a long, hard, difficult journey. There have been many days I was not sure I could find my way back to you at all. There were nights that I thought it might be best to just quietly disappear without a word or a trace.

But, slowly, painfully, I have climbed back up toward the light and I am grateful that you have been waiting for me here. Thank you.

The tale is too complicated to share. Suffice to say, it involved a couple of weeks of near-death pneumonia for my Sweetheart (plus several weeks of painfully slow recovery), some unexpected emotional tumult for me in the wake of my Mom’s death, a few challenging complications with my own health and heart, several  catastrophic breakdowns of mechanical things, the loss of some dear friends to death, and the abrupt realization that my tank was empty and my battery was dead.

Thich Nhat Hanh has been one of my most trusted spiritual advisors for many years and these words seemed to leap out at me and lend me permission to take a break…


And so I did. I hunkered down. I climbed deeply back into the recesses of my spirit cave. I stopped talking and doing and being so I could hear my soul whispering sternly to me.

I’d lost my way a bit. I’d been so absorbed in my mate’s cancer and care for the last two+  years that I sort of forgot about me and my own needs. I was deeply sad in many ways for which I had no words. My life seemed an endless round of chores and stressors, emergencies and setbacks, heartache and fatigue.

It was time to…


A million things combined to make an immediate and prolonged hiatus mandatory for my mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

I desperately needed to heed this good advice:


Of course, I couldn’t do it in the seething midst of the daily crisis of my husband’s pneumonia or between the tumultuous emotional waves of sadness in coming to terms with the fact that my mother died without ever really knowing me. I couldn’t do it with all the chores piling up and the very hard setback of not being able to go visit my beloved sister Kim in the Sierras this Spring.

But something deep within me let me know that what I had to do was get off the roller coaster for a minute, pull into myself, breathe, pray, meditate, make some big changes, and regroup.

In the pause, I began to remember that…


It wasn’t easy. I’m nothing if not an over-achiever and it’s always been my worst fear to let anyone down or not to be able to help others who need me. But this was clearly a moment where I needed to put on my own oxygen mask first and I did,  gulping for air, as the fragile airship of my life dangerously spiraled toward exhaustion.

There were whole weeks when I did not leave the house for anything but Albert’s medical treatments. There were days when I could do nothing but breathe and pray. I did not read emails or respond to phone calls. I lost track of the world. All I could do was try to re-calibrate my compass and re-sole my emotional hiking boots.

Healing came slowly but I learned soooo much along the way.


It took some time.

It wasn’t easy.

Often it felt danged near impossible.

But I persisted. I dug in. I refused to let myself be pulled under, drowned in the mire of stress that surrounded me. The storms continued to rage around me. The hits just kept coming. Every time I thought I might make it to the life raft, another wave crashed over me. My heart started acting up–stuttering and stopping, kicking and bucking. I had to let many things go. I had decline many kind invitations and abandon many dreams. All I could do was hold on tight and TRUST.

Gradually, gradually, Albert’s condition improved, things got fixed, my health started to improve, and I was finally able to let my Mom go with no resentment or regret.

I’m happy to report, the storm has broken and I can see the brilliant blue sky and feel the dazzling golden sun again. I’m finally strong enough to climb out of my cave and back into the Cottage to spend time with you, my faithful tribe, my sweet circle of merry creatives.

We got some good news this week–my husband’s chemo treatments are working better & holding the disease at bay a bit longer, I’ve been commissioned to create several exciting pieces of art for various wonderful patrons, my dear pal Anne and I have been sorting, cleaning, and reorganizing the Cottage, and in my garden, the tomatoes are abundant and ripening. It is time to rejoin the universe after a healing hiatus, reminding myself that…


So, THANK YOU for waiting for me and saving space in your life for continuing fun and art-making at the Creative Cottage!

We’ll be convening at the Cottage beginning next Saturday to celebrate Summer Solstice and to continue our mission to play, laugh, and create together–to uplift and support each other–to go deeper, stretch ourselves, and enrich our creative practice together. We’ll share stories of our journeys and celebrate our epiphanies together. We’ll enrich and enlarge our loving tribe, as we each heal in our own ways together. I’ll be excited to be back!

Come join me for the fun…

I’ll be the one with the happy, rested, willing heart wide open and welcoming at the door of the Cottage, beckoning you inside, where the mischief and merriment live.

Check out the summer classes, call or email to confirm space, and come play!

I’ve missed you!

With Endless Love and Gratitude from Kaitlin


P. S. This poem helped transform a compulsive “worrier” like me into someone who now takes it one day, one hour, one minute at a time–all the while singing.

“I Worried”

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.”
― Mary Oliver, Swan: Poems and Prose Poems

Who’s up for Less Worry & More Fun???


© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.


By Kaitlin Meadows

Inspired To Keep Going

feb 2 11 linda apple

Life, for me, is getting so much more difficult. My Sweetheart is increasingly ill with his cancer and needing more and more of my care. There are endless “asks” for my energy and attention. The demands of my various responsibilities are ramping up. Summer is coming to Tucson and I absolutely dread the months of pure inferno heat ahead. Not to mention, the world is teetering on the brink of utter disaster.

How do I keep going?

alb 16

I invest heavily in the notion that the only way forward is through. So, I just keep chugging along, singing a song, trying to muddle through, and even if I’m not sure I’m making much forward progress, I’m NOT giving up! There’s too much at stake.

I collect inspiration everywhere I go: art, music, science, poetry, tuva throat singers…but, at the end of the day, what really motivates me is the power and grace of women aspiring to rise. I firmly believe


So every day, no matter what, I suit up and join the ranks, put my shoulder to the wheel, throw my heart into the fray, and add what good I can to the mix. I am inspired to keep going by women all over the world, in more challenging straits than mine, in the face of more woes; wars, famines, genocides, who keep the faith alive that we can make a difference.

I firmly believe…


So, I can’t give up. I’m an activist, a witness, a  warrior, a worker, a healer, a poet, an elder. It’s my job to show up. To pitch in. To do what I can. To make sure


I have to keep my eyes open. I have to keep my ears open. I have to keep my heart open. My work is to be fully present–no matter what. There is work to do. I have been called.


Believe me, there is plenty to do. We all have a place in the struggle.


Many have come before us…and many will come after us. We can only do what we can…but we must all do all we can.  The world needs us!


There is no more holding us down. No  more shushing us. We are determined…


My work with women in transition, young women in crisis, mothers who are torn from their children, crones who have been marginalized and dismissed–my work is to listen, to help heal, to love. It’s not to “fix” anything. It’s not to “change the world” or end its evils. It’s just to show up and do the best I can.


We may not live to see the changes we want.We may not survive to see the world in peace. But we must keep at the task. We must support each other. We must uplift candidates that speak for us, protect and enhance our rights, and welcome us into the realms of power that can make the world a better place.

We must protect our food and water and air. We must support the women of the world who know more than we do about scarcity and diminished resources and living in harmony with nature.


 We must VOTE and urge our sisters to vote in every country around the world.


I’m no super-woman! I don’t have any magical powers or super-hero sidekicks.

I’m a 72 year old  feminist anarchist artist healer poet who’s seen and done and been a lot. But I’m no big thing. I have no illusions about that.

Some days I’m exhausted. Down. Depleted. Disappointed. Deeply distressed.

Often, I have too much on my plate, there are not enough hours in the day, and my Beloved needs far more of me than I have left to give. These days, (much to my huge chagrin), I have to miss deadlines, cancel dates,  release my very high expectations of myself, and suspend pretty much all my “shoulds” in favor of being fully present in the complicated, tangled, demanding narrative of the moment.

Right now, I have to let go of offering Cottage classes this month, meeting up with friends for fun excursions, finishing up my final project for my Book Arts class at Pima College, and pretty much everything else in my life cuz my Sweetheart is very ill and we are just trying to hold on to every moment we have with love.

That’s just part of the deal. It’s the only choice I can, in good conscience, make. But choosing to stay stuck there is a choice I will not make. There is too much beauty in this world–too much hope–too many people who are helping lift the load for me when I falter.

I’m doing the very best I can. And that’s all I can do. It has to be enough.


So, whatever challenges you are facing, whatever your struggles, no matter how hard and steep and fraught with perils your path is…please remember…


At the end of these very long days, these very emotional days, these very stressful days, I am still inspired to keep going. Because you are coming with me, because you are doing your part, because there is power and grace in our sisterhood and, together, together we can RISE!

In Solidarity & Love,


© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.







By Kaitlin Meadows

The Joy of Missing Out


I almost missed this gorgeous sunset some years ago.

I was busy. I had a zillion things left on my extensive “to do” list and the day was burning down around me without much progress. The phone was ringing, there was someone at the door, and the washing needed hanging on the line. I had to get showered and dressed for a school board meeting, but I was frantically trying to juggle cooking dinner and catching up on the television news while scrambling around trying to find my grocery list, because if I really rushed, if I really pushed it, if I tried to sneak out of the meeting a little early, I could, maybe, (if all the stars were lined up properly), race to the market on the way home!

But, I needed a moment.

I needed a breath.

I needed a cuppa tea.

I craved something I could not name.

So, I stepped out onto the back porch and there was this sunset.

I had to sit down in the old wicker rocker (whose cushion I really was going to re-cover some day), on the front porch (that badly needed paint), with a cup of tea (in my favorite old chipped cup), and watch the dragonflies skim the absolutely still surface of the water, while the sun melted into the cool pool of evening.

I sat there. For two whole hours. Long past when I had to leave…missing the meeting, the news, the laundry, the groceries…but feeling the beauty of the world, celebrating a very rare sense of timelessness and complete peace.

I was hooked. I enthusiastically began to


Before that, I had a terrible case of “Fear of Missing Out” (FOMO) fever.

I over-booked myself constantly, collected new hobbies and interests, cultivated new passions, took up a boat load of “good causes,” and assumed responsibilities waaaaay beyond my pay grade. I was up for everything; a tireless adventuress in a dozen realms. I read all the latest books, saw all the best new movies, and knew the names of dozens of musical groups across many decades and styles. I kept up on all the global news AND had intelligent views on many subjects. I was devoted to being an energetic and enthusiastic “part of the change I wanted to see in the world.”

And then I turned 70. I had a heart attack. My Sweetheart was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  I had to re-prioritize. Re-think the “busy.”

That’s when I heard about…


At first, it was counter-intuitive. I was addicted to a wonderfully abundant and demanding life. I had responsibilities. I’d made commitments. People depended on me. But, gradually, cautiously, thoughtfully, I started to “retire” from most of my “busyness.” I slipped out the back door of many old responsibilities that no longer fit my commitment to slooooow down. I stopped racing out the door to DO and tried to just sit more often and BE.   

It’s getting easier as I practice. I’ve unsubscribed from three dozen emails, I’ve stopped obsessively checking the news, I  don’t even have a cultural calendar of cool things I could be doing anymore…in favor of just staying near the core of my own life, in my own home, at the Creative Cottage, with the wonderful circle of good folks who love me. And I may just be happier than I have ever been in my life!


For the most part these days, I don’t feel like I’m “missing out” anymore. I can still get caught up in the old habit of saying “yes” to too much. And there are lots of things I’d LOVE to do that I just can’t squeeze in. But the difference now is that the sunset comes first. The joy isn’t the last thing on my list anymore–squeezed in around all the stuff I’m ‘spozed to do.

I can actually say these days that I prefer letting the world rush right by me!

The “news” now is about the speckled eggs nurtured by the cactus wren in the raggedy nest in the cholla. The next big event is the full moon coming up over the barn. The “vacation” is the sweet peace of a deep sleep after a long day in the garden.

Now, instead of reading about the world or seeing movies about it or obsessively “pinning” ideas about things I’ll never actually DO, I


Don’t get me wrong, it’s a constant tug and under-tow, this trying to learn to let go of being in the big, colorful fray every single day.

I miss the days me and my Sweetie did archaeological stewardship or spent the whole weekend at the fabulous Tucson Folk Festival. I miss our weekly jaunts to the Loft Cinema and hanging out in the evenings with convivial friends. And I really, really miss camping and road trips.

But, as it turns out, I can amuse myself just fine, thank you very much. I like solitude and actually prefer quiet pursuits. And the joy of missing out means there’s time to


and that’s what I’m doing.

So sometimes I go quiet and you don’t hear from me for weeks. Sometimes these blog posts are a little spotty and class schedules have to wait because there are tomato plants and marigolds that need to get planted. I don’t go out much at night or travel on jet planes anymore.  These days, I decline most invites, don’t sign-up for many cool classes or attend many fascinating lectures. And, frankly, I’ve stopped thinking I can single-handedly “save the world” from itself. 

Around all my Beloved’s chemo treatments, doctor appointments, prescription runs, worries about money, and concerns about the woes of the world, I’m trying to carve out a little island of peace. I am discovering that “Joy comes to us in ordinary moments. “We risk missing out when we get too busy chasing down the next extraordinary moment,” as Brene Brown says.

Sometimes, to really change your life and priorities, you just have  to


And that is what I did…and do, every single day. Grateful for the past. Hopeful for the future. But ardently trying to live in the NOW. Trying to embrace with open arms the great joy of missing out on all that isn’t important (or meaningful) to me anymore.

My Sweetheart’s cancer is really digging in now and his marker numbers are off the charts bad, but he’s bravely starting a new, fiercer, more complex form of therapies that may have even more challenging side effects. Life is beautiful and precious, fragile and worth fighting for.  We’re on the journey together. It’s scary and exhausting and fraught with danger but…


Just climb into the canoe, put your oar in the water, and head out toward that far horizon where there’s a glorious sunset just waiting to fill your heart up with joy again.

I’ll meet you there.


Much Love

& Gratitude


from Kaitlin

© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.


By Kaitlin Meadows

My Big, Beautiful, Messy Life!

mess 1

I’ve been in a black and blue funk for a few weeks.

Trying to process lots of stuff and think through many things. I’ve been trying to give myself time. Trying to absorb and digest my feelings. Trying to be gentle with myself.  Trying to honor the messy parts…(and, frankly, there are PLENTY of messy parts!)


I’ve been crying a lot, unbidden, over both silly and profound things. Usually the driven, over-achiever, I’ve been lazy and slothful and responsibility shirking. I’ve been wiggling out of kind invitations to do and go. I’ve been caught in a kind of limbo that I’ve not often allowed myself to experience. But, I realize,

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It’s a part of who I am–all the messy bits, the tears, the uncertainties, the unfinished projects, the unrealized dreams, the awkward, raggedy, imperfect me!

  But after a difficult winter of the soul, I am re-emerging into the warm Spring air,

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I am relaxing into the notion that I’ll NEVER have it all together. That I’ll NEVER have everything organized and “under control” and that I’ll never be/have/experience all that I’ve dreamed of.

I’ve begun to realize that…

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and it’s okay!

I’m finally learning to accept, that try as I might, stress as much as I do, I’m not ever going to be much more than a happy, loving, creative, compassionate, change-agent, artist, storyteller, poet, activist, nature-loving, wild woman who lives a wonderfully full and well-loved life.

And that is enough.

mess 9

Our beautiful Sonoran desert has had an abundance of rain and mild weather that has spawned the most glorious wildflower bloom I have seen for many years and, for the first time, I have really slowed down to delight in the joy of it. My Beloved and I have been making time to  sit out on our porch in the cool evenings to savor the gorgeous sunsets. I am finding time to garden and read and listen to music with a much keener appreciation. I’m in the middle of a dozen wildly engaging creative projects, strewn all over the house, studio, and yard!

mess 16

Sometimes there are dishes in the sink. The laundry basket is often full. Once or thrice I’ve left the bed unmade so I could go out to play. This is all new to me. I’ve never been able to ENJOY until the chores are done–and, trust me, they’re NEVER done!

But, at long last, I’ve come to know that to live a full, fun, vibrant life…

mess 14

The other night, we had a wonderful group of old friends over. For once, I didn’t stress over trying to be a great hostess or crafting a complicated meal. I cobbled together a few of my favorite easy recipes and asked my friends to bring theirs. The table was informal, the dishes were mismatched. We talked and laughed until very late and had the best time! I was left with a heap of dishes that I, very uncharacteristically, put off doing until the next morning because I realized

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So, here’s my advice:

mess 5

It’s waaaaay more fun and it sure beats being worried and stressed and always striving for impossible perfection.

Allow yourself to get out your art supplies and PLAY!

CreatiVity Has No Limits

Go check out the wildflowers, catch a sunset, make some art, fly a kite, invite some friends over (even if the house is a mess!), and

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I’ve finally figured out that…

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I’m glad to count you in that number!

Thanks for loving me and sharing my big, beautiful messy life!

Happy Spring!

Love, Kait

© Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows, 2019. All Rights Reserved.


By Kaitlin Meadows

Love Is Complicated

heart milagros

My Mom passed away earlier this week. She was 93 and in very poor health. We knew it was coming. Sometimes we even prayed it would come soon because she was in so much pain. But, still, it was a jolt. And there is grief. And there is relief. And there is the tangled muddle of emotions that come from unresolved relationships.

Love is complicated.

mom 4

(image above: a dying star creates a flower in space)

My mother never really liked me. She found it impossible to love or accept me. I was her first born. She was young. My Dad was a difficult man. Her own life before I came along was hard and she had many old woundings that she could never share with me, or anyone else it seems.

My Mom never knew me or had any conception of who I was. At the time of her death, we had not seen each other in over 32 years–though at one time we lived only a few hundred of miles apart. In recent years, we sent each other brief, cheerful emails once a month and occasional greeting cards, but she never knew any of my friends or lovers, never met my beloved husband, never wanted to know about my family or grand kids…She had no idea what I did in my life or what I dreamed of doing, and never expressed an interest in knowing. It was painful. It was confusing. It was sad.

Love is complicated.

In order to cope, instead of the sad, lonely, fractured life we actually lived, I created an imaginary family in my head. I found these old pictures in a bin at an antique shop that symbolized the mother love I so much craved…

mom 6

and I made up a happy story that my Mom and Dad were once madly in love and having fun at the beach before I came along…

mom 7

and that my siblings and I were close and shared many happy memories together.

mom 23

Love is complicated.

Because she was very secretive and often told conflicting stories, I never knew my Mom. We never shared anything faintly resembling a mother/daughter relationship. She would have been appalled if I ever confided in her or asked her for help. It would never have occurred to her to attend my college graduation, my wedding, or any other significant event in my life. I have no memory of my Mom ever hugging me or being affectionate with me in any but the most perfunctory of ways. But it all made me who I am…

mom 22

Love is complicated.

Please don’t get me wrong. My Mom was a lovely person in many ways. She loved her gardens–especially roses & lavender, she adored her dogs, she loved tea parties, she was a good cook who early on got interested in organic foods & simple living. She practiced yoga for over 40 years, volunteered at the hospital thrift store, and was tremendously proud of her Irish heritage. By all accounts, she was a good person and had a small community of “ladies” she knew from the Garden Club and the yoga studio.

mom 8

She loved the artist and illustrator Tasha Tudor and wanted nothing in life so much as to live as she did–in a tiny cottage, in a sea of flowers, simply and without artifice.

She collected spoons and music boxes. She was happiest pouring over spring seed catalogs and sharing cuttings from her garden.

But alcoholism, violence, secrets, and an ever present tension lived in our home. There was judgement and criticism. There were no family vacations or festive outings. We never really knew our aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents as people.

Yet, that difficult childhood made me who I am…and helped me realize that

mom 18

Love is complicated.

Last Spring, my dear sister Kim and I (who I reconnected with after almost 30 year apart!) were attending a workshop with a woman who had recently lost her own Mom. She played “Motherless Children Have A Hard Time” by Roseanne Cash and we each burst into tears, clutching each other’s hands, because, though our Mom was alive at the time, we both felt all of our lives like motherless children. It helped me to know that my sister felt as I did…that we had to grow up on our own and that the sadness and confusion of that childhood had tainted our judgement about what love was in our own lives and complicated our relationships for decades. But my sister and I are finally learning that…

mom 20

Love is complicated.

So, with my Mom’s death, I am letting go of all of those old soul injuries, releasing the sadness of never being worthy of my Mom’s love, jettisoning the dream I’ve had all my life that somehow, someday we could heal the space between us.

mom 2

I have been so lucky to be loved and healed by other mothers in my life. My best friend Allan’s mother Manetta embraced me as her daughter when I was 18 and her sweetness, her unconditional affection, and her loving support and appreciation of me helped me understand what a Mom could be. My dear friend/mentor Mari Stitt helped me to understand that  my Mom did the best she could with the life she was dealt. My sister/friend Sandi helped me celebrate my own gifts and have confidence in my own grace. And Pimm, my renegade side-kick, who had a terribly sad, complicated relationship with her own Mom, is teaching me that sometimes you never get the answers you need and that hurt feelings are okay.

mom 21

Love is complicated.

At 72, I now feel completely loved and accepted in my life. I am blessed to have the most extraordinarily loving life-mate. I am surrounded by deeply caring friends and my Cottage tribe continually uplifts me. My sister and I are closer than ever.

The message I share with anyone going through difficulties is…

mom 19

With my Mom’s death, I must let go of the wish I have nurtured all my life, that one day, somehow, some way, my Mom would love me, SEE me, & embrace me exactly as I am.

It’s a new day, and I am ready for it!

mom 10

So, Mom,

mom 1

For everything.

Mostly, for bringing me into the world when you didn’t want to.

And for teaching me, by default, that…

mom 13

Love IS complicated…

but beautiful and scary and worth every ounce of energy we put into it.

I love you Mom.

I wish you safe passage to someplace that is pain free and full of blooming lavender and romping dogs.

Rest In Peace.

Love Kait

©Copyright, Kaitlin Meadows. All Rights Reserved.


By Kaitlin Meadows