A Non-Movement

Ladies. I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I fear we’ve been misleading ourselves. In a cultural sea of mixed messaging – inspirational vs. aspirational, real vs. authentic, truth vs. honesty – I fear we’ve run off course. And today, I want us to think deeply about the road we’re walking. From where I stand,

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New-Fashioned Beauty

This morning, may we brush our teeth in gentleness, flossing with a taut line from Plato: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” Rinse in confidence – swish – spit the doubts – splat – and watch them swirl into the sink. Let them go.

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Summer & Song

So, I don’t watch the Bachelorette, but I’d totally give July a rose, absolutely. The weather has been spectacularly moody, vacillating between angsty teenage thunderstorms and polite 70-degree afternoons and hey, as a minor coffee addict, mood swings are something I can get behind. The rain makes the sun brighter, is that how the saying

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Getaway

And there were tanned shoulders and chilled rose and chocolate-covered potato chips and brilliant sunsets and fistfuls of blackberries and sandy beach blankets and long, good chats in the most perfectly mild 70-degree evenings and Calgon, take me away.

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Q & A

Bernadette Francis and Laura Albee Barton created Per-Tim (which stands for Period-Timeless) as a Melbourne-based shop/brand to “enable the questionings of the Hows, Whats and Whys of people’s lives.”

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A Gray Area

I’ve heard it said – in many variations – that peace is not the absence of chaos. It is, instead, a state of mind – the ability to rise above anxieties and fears and gain a sense of perspective that might dispel a brief, but great, moment of tension. And if that’s true (I think

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Gravity

A few weeks ago on Clementine Daily, we ran an incredible interview with Mae Jemison, the first female African American astronaut to enter outer space. It’s such a monumental thing to speak with someone who has accomplished so much – with such grace – and I was amazed at the perspective she held close to

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Looking

There was this old man that used to come in to the coffee shop where I often write, plopping himself on a big red sofa and spending hours sifting through wrinkled books and weathered photographs, magnifying glass in hand. Every now and then, he would look up and breathe in a deep, satisfied sigh, as

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