Jodi Hills

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


Leave a comment

Delightful.

I picked up an old sketchbook this morning. One I was making a few years ago while traveling in the southern part of the US. We stopped in a store in Mississippi. It was filled with home goods. I was admiring some material between thumb and index finger. The clerk, with great pleasure, not knowing me, nor where I lived, said, “These tablecloths are so French, you can’t even find them in France!” Even as I type this, I’m not really sure what that means, but she said it with such pride, such exuberance, how could I not be delighted as well! Delighted enough to write it in my journal on a January 27th.


Sometimes I think we use the excuses of time, money, location, situation — excuses not to find the joy, the beauty, the magic of the moment. I have been guilty of this for sure. But years ago, I made it my intent to see things. Everything. Everywhere. Anytime. In people. Places. Things. And this intent became habit, and became a life.


I had terrible dreams last night. The kind that want to rattle you through breakfast. But I entered my French kitchen. Heated the croissants. Drank the coffee. Mixed up the bread dough. I love making bread. I love that soon the scent will waft through the halls. Soon we will eat the most delicious bread! Bread so good, so French, it takes an American girl in provence to make it! It doesn’t have to make sense — it’s just delightful!


Let go of the night — any darkness that surrounds you. Enjoy your day!!!


1 Comment

Surprise

Not that much surprised her anymore and she felt badly about that. She wanted to live in a world where it was surprising when someone left the one they promised to love. In a world where the words homeless and lonely weren’t commonplace. A world that was surprised, horrified, by violence and lies. Where it was simply unheard of to hurt a child. Where were all the surprises? Where was the pure and astonishing beauty of kindness? Was she foolish to believe such a world could exist?


This morning at breakfast I tasted something for the first time. When making jam, you have to boil the fruit with sugar for a long time. As it boils, a frothy substance rises to the top. Google told me that you spoon that off so your jam isn’t cloudy. Dominique told me to save it. It seemed strange to me, but so far, he hasn’t led me astray, so I saved it. We put it onto our croissants this morning. It was the most creamy, peachy deliciousness I have ever tasted. I guess goodness still rises to the top. I have tasted it. I believe in it.


Just the fact that I can trust the person that sits across my breakfast table, with my whole heart, is a beautiful surprise. The world may not be a perfectly surprising place anymore, but some people still are… therein lies the hope, and the most beautiful surprises of all.


1 Comment

Flavor


I began sauteing some chicken cajun style and added some juicy green peas. It was delicious. That evening, I added some more peas into the same pan, and a little more spices. The next day, we still had peas, so I barbecued chicken and herb sausages on the grill and added them to the pan of peas. Delicious. We ate all the peas, so I sauteed some asparagus in the same pan and we ate with the sausages. All the flavor from each day mixed and melded and just got tastier! Last night we only had a little asparagus and a tiny bit of sausage left, so in that same flavor-filled pan, I made an aspargus/sausage and cheese omelette. Everything used. Nothing wasted. I washed the pan. And we begin again.


Every day I use this body to create something. Some days I add a little paint. Some days I add some words. I sprinkle in a few salty tears, and some sweet tears of tenderness. A dollop of laughter. And a huge helping of joy. Along the way, I do fall. Sometimes I get dirty. But everything is valuable. Every experience used. Nothing is wasted. And if you ask me how I am today, I will tell you, “Well, I’m just getting tastier!”

Fill your heart. Feed your soul. Taste this life.