Jodi Hills

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

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Friend.

I can’t say it’s the table. Nor the cupboards. I do like my kitchen, but it’s more correct to say I like who I am in my kitchen. Be it bread or cookies, I like that I’m creating something that wasn’t there before. I like that my Elsie confidence allows me to add flour without measuring, and grin as if I’ve always known. And certainly that’s not the case. I never baked before coming to France. And now my house shoes have a permanent ring of flour in the cracks.

And isn’t it the way with friends:

“I really like who I am with you…
I hope that doesn’t sound bad to say…
I mean it more as a compliment to you, more of a “thank you” really.
You free me to be this person who laughs and
cries and feels and enjoys and loves.
What a relief to be myself,
without performing, or worrying…
just being and becoming who I am…
That’s some gift…
I hope I’m returning it…
because you know what,
I really like who you are with me.”*

Welcome to the kitchen.

*from the book, “friend,” by Jodi Hills

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Coiffed and caffeined.

Getting to know each other, she asked me what books I had written. It was my publisher who had referred me to this hair stylist. As I listed them off, she said, twice, “Oh, I have that book!” Both delighted, we began to wander freely in each other’s story. I knew my hair was safe in her hands. 

At any book event that my mom attended, people would say, “Oh, this is so me,” or “You must have written this about me,” or “It’s me!!!” — to which my mom would reply, “Actually it’s about me!” We would all laugh, knowing that everyone was actually right. 

We all want to be seen. We need it to survive. There is the ineffective shortcut of shock, that so many want to rush into, but this is not sustainable, nor fulfilling. No, we need to be seen joyfully, gently, heartfully. With empathy and wonder. Kindness. Slowly.

I saw them on display as I made the coffee this morning at my friend’s house. My cups. My story. Resting next to the Lefse recipe of her mother — her story. I suppose that’s what friendship is, the combining of our stories. Newly coiffed and caffeined, I smile out the window, ready to write a new page. Will you join me?

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The power of a wow.

I recently bought a new desk pad. I like it very much. They sent an email asking for a review. I didn’t erase it. I thought maybe I could get around to it. I scrolled past it for a couple of days. And then my publisher posted a recent review from my website. The “wow” and the “amazing” filled my heart and directed me immediately to the place where I bought my desk pad. I used the same words that I was given. It matters — the things we do and say.

It would be so easy to let the moments slip by. We often feel, “well, it goes without saying…” And maybe that’s true, but does it have to? It doesn’t cost us anything. And it takes almost no time at all. Really no effort. So what makes us hesitate? What makes us hold on to the compliment when we see her looking beautiful in that dress? When we see him going beyond a normal effort? I want to be the one who says — “That’s a great color on you!” and “Bravo, monsieur!” I want to be free and easy with my praise. I have felt the power of a wow – and I want you to feel the same. Everyone should feel this.

My pockets are usually only filled with dreams. Along with a little joy. Neither take up any space at all. So today I will throw in an extra “amazing!” and a few “wow!”s and be eager to give them away at a moment’s notice. No scrolling. No I’ll get to it later. Just a pocketful at the ready.

Have an amazing day today, my friends. A wow is just within reach.

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