Jodi Hills

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


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On being pink.

There is a pink blossomed tree in our front yard. Nestled against the greens, it really shines. But would it? Without this sea of green? These glorious supporting characters in this summer spectacular! And this is to take nothing away from them — each one, on any other given day when the pink is not in bloom, could play the leading role. Because they are not just green — these emerald, lime and apple greens, these olive, jade, even silver greens!  All beautiful! And maybe most importantly, all secure in their own worth. Secure enough to let the pink tree have it’s moment — to let the pink tree shine!

I’m not sure I would be able to notice this without the example my mother set for me. She, no wall flower, always wanted to present herself in the very best manner. She, who would stand in line for the Clinique promotion, memorize the best mirrors at Daytons, thumb through the catalogs, iron and pop her white collars — this beauty, was never, is never afraid to let me shine.  

What a gift! To be celebrated for all your pinkness! I suppose the only way to give thanks is to pass it on. To see, to allow, to find joy in the glorious colors of all. This, my friends, is a day to shine.  

“You do the impossible every day. You warm people with your own brilliant light, and make them believe it is they who really shine.” jodi hills


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Being Lily!

When I lived in Minneapolis, I could buy a group of lilies for just three dollars at the Byerly’s store next to my apartment. It would produce four to five giant, beautiful white flowers, that often lasted three weeks. This was a luxury I could afford.

I would buy a stem that was mostly unopened. Each morning I would check to see how she had bloomed. “Good morning, Lily!” I always wanted to catch her, in mid bloom – see how she opened, but I never did. I would be in the kitchen, or bathroom, and come back, and she would be new. Lovely.

I suppose that’s the way it is with most of us. We don’t often get to see what makes others change, grow, but it’s happening. All the time. We are all going through something — struggles, lessons, living. All of us, just trying to bloom. And if we’re lucky, truly lucky, the beautiful few that we can call our friends, will show us how they got here — how they came to bloom. A luxury we could all afford.