From Grief to Growth

During the last pandemic, my Wednesday evenings became a sacred space for about 90 minutes when I talked to my father by phone. From the calm cocoon of our DC condo, I would close the door gently against the pleasing drone of my wife’s Duolingo, and get Dad on the line in Arizona. First updates and the weekly grocery order, then as much time as we could writing down family stories together.

I grew attached to that Wednesday writing ritual, and the refuge of my father’s attention against the difficult circumstances we were all facing in those days. To be of any use at all to him — widowed and socially isolated — kept me afloat from so far away. The separations we all experienced during that time were painful. That weekly phone call was a place to reminisce, laugh a little, practice our writing, and stock up on chocolate pudding for the week ahead.

Later, I moved back to Arizona and became Dad’s primary caregiver. Wednesdays still made sense as our writing days, and his massive postcard collection became endless inspiration. The Posted Past was first invented to keep us fascinated as the days went by. The weekly pace and soft deadline provided helpful discipline. It was a trusted escape for me and mind-jerky for him to chew on at 88, then 89, then 90.

I hosted the first Completing & Creating circle in late 2023. A few of us in a similar online, weekly format: short intervals of focused discussion, followed by quiet parallel play, and a chat back. I’ve attended a number of in-person salons and studio talks over the years. I wanted to create that cozy, connected vibe online.

Fast-forward to tomorrow, my own creative calendar is starting anew. I find myself at interesting intersections of social history and family lore, with a passion for epistolary writing. The year ahead means going down research rabbit holes, getting glassy-eyed looking at old images, and plotting points in storylines from the past. That’s what I’ll be doing with my quiet time in the Wednesday circle, putting my own puzzle pieces together side-by-side with you.

For tomorrow, our prompt is: where are you coming from, and where are you going to? Put this set of questions where they fit for you tomorrow. Coming from lunch and going to your next meeting — I hear that. Maybe this online circle in the middle of the week is enough space for a simple relaxing craft — a nice place between meetings to crochet and chat with others.

The fee is modest and flexible because that’s nice, too. Try month-to-month for $5 or commit to the whole year for $50. I’ll be here weekly. If you love regular creative discipline, great. You can also drop-in anytime. I do not mind!

I will send the meeting link and instructions privately to the circle every week. To join anytime, hit the button below.

Join Anne’s Wednesday Circle

Completing this Cycle and Creating the Path Ahead

For me, the Completing & Creating cycle is aligned with the winter season, woven among the family time, holiday rituals, and colder weather. Reflecting back, the questions elicit gratitude, affirm limits, and tend to relationships. Looking forward, the opportunity is to carry on from the sacred center of somewhere in a somewhat sensible way.

Over the years, my management practice improved through this routine, though I often found it difficult to ‘complete’ against the demands of year-end fundraising. In those days, I savored my thoughts and feelings in a Sunday morning journal but did little about it until late January. Then, I cloistered away for a long weekend to make measure. The MLK holiday is often the chance to move in the creative direction.

All together now has been an important mantra this year, so I’m hosting a circle and holding the weekly Wednesday online studio space for the completing and creating process. The simple scaffold is useful to me, and of course, the experience itself unfolds in wonder among friends.

Serving as host (not leader, teacher, or guru) is intentional. The exchange model is dāna, the secular Buddhist practice of balanced exchange. Practitioners contribute a modest amount to the host, what they feel is right and can offer joyfully. The equivalent management practice is PWYW, pay what you wish. For our purposes, there is a small fee to join a circle, and a tip jar to share more if you like.

It’s a model that rests in abundance, respects personal limits, and gestures outward toward opportunity. You’re in to begin without hassle. Your presence is a gift itself. What you contribute (or don’t) is entirely your decision.

Self-directed inquiry is the basic practice with tools I provide, like the Creating & Completing questions. I have adapted the practice and tools over decades learning alongside mentors and coaches. In my time, I made the questions more cyclical, less finite, and carefully unwired notions of obligation. I love to write my responses and often explore other media. I’ve added visual thinking tools that I will share. Movement, music, cooking, crafting – it all adds to the experience.

Gratitude, personal growth, accountability, renewal, and imagination are common touchstones. Grief, guilt, overwhelm, and upset come for visits, too. We don’t fix, crosstalk, or endgame with each other. Rather, we keep that quiet, open space for reflection. We listen as you unfold the insights.

Some of the best leaders tell their own stories so that others can learn. This is a sort of self-leadership that prepares the way.

Or not. Hold on gently is another helpful notion. In an era where rest and recovery are urgent social prescriptions, my work includes unlearning old management habits and states of mind that drive negative loops in life. Moving from vicious cycles to virtuous ones — grace and patience are the main ingredients, alongside the desire to take a dip in divine ambiguity.

To begin, think about the period of time or cycle just closing. Is it simply the calendar, or something different? Then, what about the time ahead? Set your thoughts to the time envelope of what you’re creating.

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Here’s a list of writing and discussion prompts to close one chapter and open another. Do you begin at the beginning? If not, start with a question that has energy in it. One at a time, with inner attention.Download

Circle Up



Question 8 on the Creating slide really got me thinking this time.

Q: Who is in your circle, and why?

It’s a practical question for me. My next studio circle (and my own creative practice) starts anew on January 7, and continues every Wednesday afternoon this year.

I’d love for you to join me next week or any Wednesday. My commitment to my creative practice is weekly, and I’m here every week to support yours.

In a quiet moment before the holidays I wrote a long list of everyone I have to thank this past year, plus all the people who left me wiser, and often awestruck.

The task in Question 8 is to acknowledge each person, and seek to know more about how they arrive or appear in my circle. It’s not an inventory, it’s a diagram. Who am I choosing to keep close and who is drifting away? And, what does my circle say about my values and how I communicate.

Caregiving changed my circle. Job transitions change it, always. Loss changes it. Some people move closer, others take off on a distant orbit. Some surprise you when they show up. The circles we create together become life boats when everything else shifts. Leaning forward changes it, too.

What happens on Wednesdays?

We gather on Zoom for 90 minutes. I introduce one or a pair of the questions—sometimes we’re completing the work behind us, sometimes creating the path ahead, sometimes both at once. We explore it together for 30 minutes.

Then you work solo for 30 minutes, mics off. Write, collage, draw, use whatever medium you choose. No need for special supplies or skills. Whatever is at hand—a notebook, some magazines and glue, colored pencils. Not your phone. We love technology, obviously, but tactile is important in this studio.

We reconvene for 30 minutes of reflection. You share only what you want—a sentence, an image, a phrase. No advice-giving, fixing, or solving. The circle makes space for you to listen to your own good sense, work your own puzzle, and most importantly, choose your own metaphor. If you want advice from anyone in the circle, simply ask privately.

How it works

Working through the questions alone has value. Working through them in a studio circle can be transformative. Weekly creative practice builds momentum, provides the pace of trust needed for relationships, and allows insight to unfold. We watch your work evolve together. Eventually, you trust the circle and it is safer to bring what’s difficult, tender, unfinished.

This year, especially, you are welcome. When we are all navigating transitions, tending to loved ones, reinventing our work, renewing our purpose, and searching for meaningful connection. A circle you can count on once a week may be essential. It is for me.

Join me on Wednesdays

We meet every Wednesday from 2:00-3:30 PM Arizona time via Zoom. Join for $5/month or $50/year for unlimited Wednesdays.

Join Anne’s Creative Circle Today

January 7 is special because we start the new cycle together. But every Wednesday works. Pretend we’re neighbors and drop-in. I do not mind.

Who is in my circle?

People who show up consistently. People who witness without judgment. People doing their own creative work and willing to support others in theirs. People who understand that making art—in whatever form—is how we make sense of our lives.

I hope you’ll be one of them, some Wednesday in the year ahead.

The Completing and Creating Cycle is a framework for regular reflection and creative practice. The questions invite looking back and looking forward, with a focus on what needs completing in the current cycle, and what is arising ahead.

Something from Nothing

I’m launching a social enterprise to trade loneliness for connection one postcard at a time. My task this week: explain why and demonstrate how. Honestly, I don’t know yet. Maybe that’s the point.

Last week I felt sick, distracted, lethargic, confused. I tried making sense of this venture without much output. This morning brought a different view. Here in my writing studio—cool, empty, quiet, safe—I find peace in this small cocoon. A few sentences in, I reconnect with myself.

Recently deceased poet, Andrea Gibson, suggested we replace “depression” with “hibernation.” Fall is here, and something else is on the way.

Familiar, and Not

In the first year, The Posted Past emerged from tiny moments of inspiration that kept me alive through a grueling season. Three years ago, I shifted from arts executive to stay-at-home daughter in weeks.

I once made sharp plans, big decisions, and quickly executed on smart strategy. I excelled at drawing lines, taking risks, moving projects forward. We generated wide visibility and large dollars. Those skills served their purposes and I enjoyed it, mostly.

Now, caring for family, I’m also moving differently: small steps, quiet gestures, new ambiguities, old secrets. I’m excited to work with ephemera from the past. My aim is to attract attention to the overlooked evidence of us, and patiently appreciate all that we have been as we remake ourselves, again.

Small Things, Plenty to Notice

Every vintage postcard carries something left behind. Messages that made it, and those never sent — all since wandered into dusty collections, eager estate sales, and ribbon-tied boxes.

Upcycling this stuff makes for lovely creative practice. Remnants from earlier items that are too good to discard — an inky rose, a floral-sounding sentiment, or a detailed botanical drawing. Using these old materials draws something from nothing. We revisit these abandoned treasures (and our own ideas about junk) to feel the rush of regeneration.

We ourselves are marvelous collections gathered, arranged, and rearranged with intention (or not) over periods in time. So much is found in these second or third purposes for the past. Art card sessions can sometimes reveal those connections in your lifetime that only you really see. Then, you send it off to someone who will read into the image all they know and need.

Loneliness sometimes abaits with noise or distraction. True, but there is more. Creative practice provides for a courage that lives inside silence, grace, and patience. Making mistakes in the studio can bring sweet relief from ego and fear, and offer potent clues about what’s next.

The Posted Past is deliberately both/and. Grand sweep of time and subtle moments. Global networks and hand-delivered messages. Instant communication and patient evolution. The question isn’t big or small—it’s striking the balance that serves us now.

We’re not just trading loneliness for connection, we’re also swapping out old assumptions: that new beats old, that connection requires complexity, that everything starts from scratch. Here, in those creative tensions, we find opportunity. The magic of being in between.

I don’t know exactly how this will work, but I know why. We live with unprecedented connection and profound isolation. We can reach anyone, anywhere, instantly, yet loneliness persists as one of our greatest challenges. One small answer: work with what we have. For me, that’s a lot of postcards.