How To Spot a Stroke

Today is six years since I had a stroke.
Because I struggled to find my writing words after the stroke, I turned to art, hoping to find a way to be a writer again.


What do you call that?

A moment that diverts your course and sends you in a completely different direction?
A turning point? A boomerang?

At the time, it just felt scary, and discouraging.

Like when you go through a labyrinth, and you think you're getting close to the center, but instead, you find you have to go in the absolute opposite direction before you end up where you think you want to be.

But see?

How beautiful is it that hard things can become soil for new gardens?
Thanks to the stroke, I am here.
Making books!


Who knew?

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say how thankful I am.
To be alive today.
Thankful for the way my community lifted me up during that time.
Thankful that this extra hard thing contained ingredients that helped me become an author and illustrator today.

Friends, for every hard thing you face,
I wish you courageous hope.

For every detour, I wish you creativity
that grows and blooms and heals.

And because I'm especially thankful for the people in my life, I made a little thing for you. Knowing the signs of stroke can save your life. 
Please feel free to read and share with your loved ones.
#strokeawareness #strokesurvivor #strokeinfographic

Strokeversary

It's my stroke anniversary. 

Five years!

Because I had trouble finding my writing words 

after the stroke, 

I started making art in earnest. 

Isn't it beautiful 

that troubles can become the soil 

for new gardens? 

Bucket List

Things to do on your third stroke-aversary:

Sketch. 

Read.
Write.
Dig for treasure. 
My treasure might be hiding in the mountain of dirty laundry downstairs.
Or maybe in shuttling wildebeests to lessons, or practice.
Or maybe the treasure is in every speck of this beautiful daily dirt.

The sun is shining,
the flowers are out.
It's beautiful.

Being alive is good, my friends.
It's so good.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Words still glomm together in my mouth
like lumps of peanut butter.
I speak to people and wonder if they notice, too.
Can one be socially stuttered, but robustly well?
Because I am so alive, so well 
since the surgery.

Maybe these word troubles are writer's block,
part of my recovery from troubles;
an awakening to the idea that life is short.
that more than publishing stories,
I want to love.
to make it count wherever I am.

I still want to write, but my words are hiding.
So...
I'm taking an art class.
 
And oh, what a class!
It's UCSD extension course llustrating Books For Children
with renowned book designer Joy Chu.
And it's amazing.

Maybe I'll find a back door to writing this way,
through visual storytelling.
Or not.

Maybe I'll just enjoy it -
watering a different part of my brain.
creating art.
(happy sigh)


And how does the rest of this garden grow?
How is that sacred dirt of every day?
 
We have a lot of dirt lately.
Lots of squiggly worms that I don't take pictures of -
like scowly faces, and kids throwing fits,
messy hair,


















piled-up laundry,
crumbs under the table.

But how can I not be thankful?
Even for the wormy parts.
There is less to show from this garden now.
but more to feel.
more to soak in and wiggle around.

more family days.
paint and shaving cream.

 a new outlook for Pip!

Sugar Snack turning five!

Not much of a gardener in reality,
still I will tend this sacred dirt,
I will water my back doors to writing, 
and see what wriggles.
what grows.

What are the back doors in your creative life?

What are your cover crops?

When you get stuck, discouraged or allover uninspired,
what do you plant?

How do you water your creative self?

Cooking class? Archery lessons? Trapeze?
Balloon animals? Book club?

My friends,
I thank you for your friendship and patience. 
for the many ways you make this world beautiful.
through your actions and special talents.
for your unique words and work.
for the nurture of your families and friends.
for the many creative ways you give of yourself to the world.

May your garden grow and grow
and grow,
with lots of good dirt
and wiggles. 

Another bonus from my new class? Library finds!

Here are some of my latest faves:

Journey, by Aaron Becker (Won a well-deserved Caldecott Honor this year!)
Mr. Wuffles, by David Weisner (Another Caldecott Honor winner)
Sea of Dreams, by Dennis Nolan

Flora's Very Windy Day, by Jeanne Birdsall, illustrated by Matt Phelan

Harry & Hopper, by Margaret Wild, illustrated by Freya Blackwood
Missing Mommy, by Rebecca Cobb 

On a Beam of Light, A Story of Albert Einstein by Jennifer Berne, illustrated by Vladimir Radunsky
Nelson Mandela, by Kadir Nelson
Bon Appetit!, the delicious life of Julia Child, by Jessie Hartland
Martin de Porres, the Rose in the Desert, by Gary Schmidt, illustrated by David Diaz

Roots

In true page-turner style, the night before heart surgery,
I was rain-checked.

For a good month, I gnawed at this news like an old bone,
waited to hear if the docs would favor heart surgery after all,
or have me remain in this temporary place of not-quite-well.

 
What can we do when things aren't all better?
How can we meet the sacred in illness,
in poverty, in sadness,
in our imperfect selves?
 
Drink tea. Read good fiction. Take bubble baths.
Go outside and watch clouds.
And then, take a serious look around. 

Ill or not,  I am rich!

clean water. warm home. books.
food. literacy. art.
paint.

waves on the beach. limitless sky. stars. 

music. beauty. family.

love.
I could recount these riches all day.

Even ill, I am abundantly well.
 
I haven't been able to write.
That's the outlet that's suffered most since the stroke.
I'm tired, dizzy, and struggle with an aching head.
My dear friend Margaret Bloom of We Bloom Here
sent a breeze of wisdom my way,
likening this time to winter.
Sometimes leaves dry up and branches are stark,
but roots still go deep. 
 
Every time we struggle, may the roots go deep.
to grow us in compassion.
to grow us in perspective.
to grow us in steadiness,
and light.

What do we do with our troubles?
Find the gifts in front of us.

Even in our troubles,
there is sacred to be found:
laughter, forgiveness, grace, love.

Here's to deep roots and good dirt, my friends.

Epilogue:
I finally made peace with this middle ground,
and the next day: news!
Heart surgery is back on.

Friday, November 8, here we come!

Feel-good books:

Violet Mackerel's Remarkable Recovery,
by Anna Branford, ill. by Elanna Allen

(Thank you for the get-well-read, Margaret Bloom !)

The Mighty Lalouche, by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall

Tea Rex, by Molly Idle

!, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld

A Sick Day for Amos McGee,
by Philip C. Stead, ill. by Erin E. Stead