Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Monthly Archives: September 2021


by 2 Comments

Brilliant.

As we change hotels almost every night, we also change the lighting in the bathroom. The ever so important lighting by which we begin each day. I fear my vanity may be showing, but I do like good lighting. It’s funny, perhaps hopeful, optimistic, but when I’m getting ready in poor lighting I think, “well, this can’t be right… this can’t be the way I look.” And then we get to better lighting and I have to admit I think, “yes, this is me, this is how I look!”

And why not? Why not think the best about yourself? Is it vain, or simply brilliant? I’m going with brilliant. And perhaps even more brilliant — if I’m willing to do this for myself, see myself in the best light, I think I should be able to do this for you. I think we all can.

We catch each other in so many moments during the day, and they may not all be flattering. But maybe, just maybe, on the days we are feeling “well lit” we can share that light with others. And maybe we’d all have a better day.

Step into the light. It’s going to be a beautifully brilliant day!

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Remembering Heather.

I forgot. We arrived in Charlottesville yesterday and I forgot. We walked the outdoor mall and I forgot. We bought sea salt carmels at Whole Foods and I forgot. We ate dinner, and forgot. Dominique was searching on his iPad for “what to do” in Charlottesville, and it popped up. “This is where that girl was killed,” he said. I took a beat, and there it was. Charlottesville. Of course. We had heard it on the news so many times. The girl who was hit by the car. The girl who only wanted to end hate, her father told us on the news. Heather Heyer. Heather Heyer was killed in Charlottesville. It wasn’t an accident. It was pure hatred. She was killed, not only by the car that rammed into the crowd, but by every torch carrying, hood wearing, hateful person in that crowd.

People are killed daily in the name of hatred and become easily forgotten sound bites on the news. Forgotten, as another passes on the screen. I don’t want to become immune to this. Heather, I am sorry for what they did to you. I am sorry that I forgot. But today, I say your name. Heather. Today, I sketch your beautiful and hopeful face, and make my simple and small attempt to help end the hatred. In your name. In the names of all who have fallen in the attempt. In the names of each battlefield we pass on this Constitutional highway. In the name of love.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Big Harriet.

We stood next to her statue in Annapolis, Maryland. Harriet Tubman. I towered over her in physical size. She was so small. Yet, she towered over me in strength.

The only way I know how to thank someone for their gifts, is to show them that I really see them. I begin by making a sketch. “I do see you,” I say with each pencil marking. But knowing this, I also know that she can see me. We are connected now. And what does she see? Am I continuing the work? Am I doing the work? Because there is work to be done for sure. And acknowledging this is where I begin. Where I continue. Until each color comes to life off the page. Each statue dances off their podiums and rejoices in the progress. The victories. The work has to continue.

Yesterday I saw Harriet. She lifts me. She inspires me. Could anything small do that?

Shop Now!


by 3 Comments

Constant journey home.

I found myself at home in front of the US capitol. I didn’t expect to be so moved, but I was. Tears streamed down my face. Because I was home. And my French husband was home. And the people around me, people of every color, people speaking different languages, some laughing, some crying, all peaceful, all joyful, all were home. This is who we are. Who we have to be. Welcoming. Kind. Joyful.

Next we visited the National Gallery of Art. I stood in front of the collection of Cezanne. In front of the painting of L’Estaque. And once again I was home. I stood with my French husband, who’s mother had a house there, and we were home. Once again the tears were streaming.

What a privilege to feel at home. Perhaps it has to start in your own skin. Once you are comfortable within, I think you have the courage to seek, to reach out, to wander. Once you are comfortable within, you also have the courage to welcome those different from yourself.

So this is where we begin. Within. All on this beautiful, this constant journey home.

Shop Now!


by 1 Comment

I am here.

You won’t find it on a website. Siri doesn’t have it in her system.  But I stumbled upon it. (On accident? Are there any really?) The Vanadu House. It is not a museum. There are no lines. Not even other visitors when we went there, (the next door neighbor worked slowly on his porch) But make no mistake, it was art. The house, the camper, the three cars parked along the house — all art. If you rush by, you might think it is junk, but no. Each item seems curated. Thoughtfully placed. Each quote intelligent. Quotes like:

“The place in which I’ll fit will not exist until I make it.” ― James Baldwin


And this person, this artist, is doing just that — making a place to fit in. And aren’t we all doing that? Trying to do that? Find our place in this world? And I suppose that is art at its finest. Showing the beauty of the curated heart, the curated mind, the curated life. We piece together the knowledge, the relationships, the struggles, the victories, and we try to make it as beautiful as we can. And it is. Not all the same for everyone. It doesn’t have to be, and why would we want it to be? We can stand in lines, stand in place, and wait for someone to tell us what is beautiful, how to live our lives, or we can create places of beauty – lives of beauty. And whether or not anyone drives by, bothers to notice, you are still beautiful. We are still beautiful.


Today I move. I create. I fit. I am here. And it is beautiful.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Anyone.

After seeing it, the Liberty Bell, I had to look up the actual definition of the word. The thing is, we always think we know. There are many interpretations of course, but the words that kept popping up were freedom, rule of law, and not depriving anyone else of their freedom. Oh, we get the first part so easily, freedom, freedom, freedom. Me, me, me. But do we get the second part? The anyone else’s? That’s the hard part, I suppose. That’s where the crack comes in. This is where we fail so often.

We stood in line to view it, this line of anyone else’s, this line of every color and age, this respectful line that moved slowly in the heat of the sun – the great disinfectant. We were quiet, polite, respectful. For we were all in search of the same thing – proof that this was still the case – it could be done peacefully – this search, this daily march toward liberty. This daily march together in our differences, together in our similar pursuit.

We only got a few minutes to stand before the symbol, this bell. But it rings in my heart. I pray it rings in yours. I am your anyone else, and you are mine. And we march together, search together, work together, to ring out the great truths we all want to hear.

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

An education.

We have visited most of the Ivy League schools now. Stepping on to each campus, I can feel it. Maybe it’s the knowledge, the learning, but most probably, I think it’s the curiosity in the air – the possibility. It’s not lost on me that the most glorious beam of sun just shone through the window at the moment I was typing “curiosity in the air.” And I guess that’s the real beauty, isn’t it? It is everywhere. And I want to feel it everywhere. Now some might think it shines only for the elite, but if you can see yourself, in the grasp of that morning beam, then aren’t you too, one of the elite. Aren’t we all?

But we must be curious. We must be able to see the possibilities – feel them. I feel it right now, as I’m telling you this. And I want you to feel it. The lightness in your feet. The extra rhythm of your heart. Eyes wide open.

I didn’t attend an Ivy League University, but I feel privileged. I got a good education from the University of Minnesota. I got an “Ivy” league (my mom’s name is Ivy) education from my mother in how to survive anything with grace and dignity. Combining the two, along with the ever curious spirit I was given, we were all given, at birth, I feel more than elite, I feel heart-filled, mind-filled, joyously alive.

Today is filled with possibility. The world is your campus. Wander. Enjoy. Learn. Live!

Shop Now!


by 1 Comment

The calm after.

The sun was shining. Not a cloud in the sky. A beautiful blue. No puddles in the street. No sign of the storm. “Devastating,” they said. “It took me three hours to get to work today,” he said. “You can understand why we don’t have any cars,” they said at the rental office. We did understand. Or we wanted to, but we really didn’t see any evidence of the storm. But of course it had ravaged them. The wind. The water. It hit the east coast of the US hard! And we were lucky enough to arrive yesterday, just after it had passed.

We won’t always get the proof we think we need. But why do we need it? We seem to think we have the right to know why everything happens. When someone tells you they are suffering, this should be enough. “Well, they look fine,” we think. They should be fine. We don’t know the storms that pass through each home, each heart. And we shouldn’t need the details. The proof. When someone tells you they need a minute. They need a rest. They need help. Believe them. Be the calm after.

The sun is shining today. And we are so excited to be a part of it! So grateful. Whatever you’ve been through to get here, it shines for you too!

Shop Now!


by 2 Comments

Whole wheat bread.



Yesterday I made whole grain wheat bread for the first time. I had never made bread of any kind before arriving in France. A good first. Then I starting making the jam for the bread. Another first. We love the bread, but Dominque convinced me that we should try some whole grain. It was absolutely delicious! We both loved it!

It’s easy to let a day go by, days go by, and before you know it – you’ve lived a lifetime of sameness, or passed through a lifetime, but I’m not sure you’ve really lived. I don’t want that to be me. I want to taste something new from the palm of my hand. Feel something new from the palm of my heart.

I’m writing to you today from the airport in Amsterdam. My first blog from here. I’m sitting next to the first (and only) Frenchman I ever loved. The bread, the blogs, the travel, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken a leap of love and tried something new. Perhaps it takes a lot of firsts to find the things that last. And that my friends, tastes like a life!

Shop Now !


by 1 Comment

Find the good.

I don’t have all the answers. But I have a lot of them (that work for me). And I guess that’s the key.  

You know what’s best for you. You know what will fulfill you. You set the bar for yourself. Others’ successes do not hurt you. Be happy for them. Others’ failures do not lift you.

They may not even feel they’ve failed. They get to decide that for themselves. You have the answers for you.

I was about to say that yesterday was a bit of a stressful day, but I’m stopping myself because the day itself was actually perfect. The day was sunny, open, and offered every opportunity.  There were stressful moments though, within this lovely day. And in those moments, this is where all the work pays off. This is when I need to use all the tools I have been given, created, found, discovered – that work for me. First on the list is always my happiest of places – the painting studio. I took out my bird sketchbook, and penciled in the first bird. My heart rate slowed. I took out the paints. I must have been smiling. The paint moved from palette to brush to paper (sometimes to fingers and clothes), and I became the weight of the bird. I let him dry and did the second one. I know what calms my heart. The day held the same ingredients of every good day I have ever experienced – it was up to me to find it. Find the good.  

Today is beginning with the same sun. The birds are singing, as if to remind me who I am. I smile because I know the song. I know myself. It’s going to be a wonderful day.  


Shop Now!