Author: Katie Huey

The Beauty of Color – Guest Post by Christine Christman

Living in the season of gratitude, I am thankful to have the chance to share yet another guest blog post. There may be a few more before the year comes to a close. This week’s author has been a foundational staple in my life, a friend, a mentor, a leader. I’m thrilled she is willing to share in the journey to find beautiful things by posting here.

Author: Christine Christman

Website: http://goodwordsinc.net

“At the Foot of the Mountains” – Van Gogh

What’s your favorite color? Oh, I do struggle when people ask me that question. I have known my ready answer since I was in third grade and wrote it on the inside of a cootie catcher. Yellow.

But as I got older I would feel that I had to explain. “Not that lemon yellow,” I would begin, “but something more like the sun when it sets in the fall. You know leaning toward mustard. No that’s not it, more brown. And as I got more sophisticated about colors I could say “ochre.” But then nobody knew what I meant so I just went back to yellow.

Why yellow? Well I learned at a young age what artists and writers have told us since the beginning of time. Color is beautiful in the way it evokes emotion. Yes, yellow is known as the “happy color” since it represents the energy of the sun and the fresh scent and welcome tang of lemon. But that’s not why it’s my favorite. Ochre is my favorite because every time I am around it I feel settled. Ochre is a complex mixture of yellow and brown that combines earth and sun in some beautiful and evocative way that I can feel into.

I want to describe autumn, my favorite season, as ochre. And yet it is painfully insufficient to describe even one of the many versions of yellow in the leaves tossed up around us. Is that really ochre? No, not really. What color IS it? And the reds, ah the reds. What is that particular red that emerges in an oak leaf? Even using the word ‘red’ feels so inadequate.

Slate blue is another of my favorite mystery combinations but with blue and gray; ocean and sky, deep blue water and dark heavy clouds. It might feel ominous to some. But, instead, it pulls me into a pause at the edge of creation. Slate blue evokes an entry into the unknown that will somehow nourish me back to creativity.

And now you are thinking about the complexity of your favorite color and the emotions it evokes for you. At least I hope so.

Color is also beautiful because it points us to something infinite. I learned that from Vincent Van Gogh. From a distance, the colors in his paintings look magical, mysterious, not like anything you could find, even in the 64-count Crayola crayon box. I used to just walk right by those magical colors in the Starry Night print, or even in original paintings at museums.

But on my last visit I was able to get up close to some of Van Gogh’s work. And I was astounded at the myriad combination of color he used to create one small section of each painting. Say a field of grass. The way he layered paint allowed me to see into each image a seemingly infinite number of brush strokes each with a different color that also had been created by mixing another set of colors.

If all color starts with Red, Blue, Green and Yellow, then the possible combinations must be infinite, as painters throughout time have demonstrated. It takes just a moment to consider the vast combinations that go into a single painting, along with the complex and nuanced emotions that can be evoked by a single color and to be drawn into infinity. To experience the Divine.

Christine Christman works in marketing communications and online learning. She explores her world through literary writing on topics such as archetypes, symbols and feminine spirituality. She is also my mom. You can find her at http://goodwordsinc.net.

Live Together – It’s Prettier That Way

40 fabulous humans.

30 chocolate cupcakes.

5 pounds of ground beef.

5 bags of hamburger buns

4 cans of Manwich.

4 bags of cabbage.

4 onions.

3 bags of potato chips.

3 dozen brownies.

2 types of cheese.

1 massive veggie tray.

1 birthday cake.

No… there are no prices adding up here, but all of this food led to sloppy joes and mounds of coleslaw. This also inspired a beautiful happy heart as I facilitated a house filled with family and friends, laughter and beer. We filled our new home with light, joy and housewarming blessings. I was tickled to see so many parts of life come together yet again. I still get party planning anxiety – sure I can invite people over – but will they come?

They did, and I was happy. Bringing people you love together, who also love you back, is a beautiful thing.

Before the party, I was at my parent’s house for a brief moment and saw this hanging on their fridge. It caught my eye, and my heart, as my first reaction was asking myself “Has this truly been a good year?” There have been some challenging situations that brought beautiful growth. There has also been immense blessings in the ability to step out in faith, with a little bit of fear, that led me to the deep sense of gratitude I experienced standing in my new kitchen, hungry friends all around me.

This line from the image caught me up too….. ‘Life is always giving back to me what I give out.’

That statement is a little, well, confronting. What am I giving out to the world? Am I sharing blame, hurt, confusion, or guilt? Or am I allowing myself to move through these emotions while understanding that I can give kindness, compassion, empathy, and honest expression of my truth. Can I invite my friends out and about in the hopes that they too will reciprocate an invitation rather than stay home for fear of not being included? Does this juxtaposition make sense to anyone else? For I feel there is beauty in paying attention to what you are giving the world.

No. This does not mean overextend and sacrifice and deplete yourself for the sake of others. Rather, I interpret this as a shocking call to action. Am I living in an authentic way that invites others to be authentic? Am I choosing to share my life, my food, my living room with my friends as I hope others will do with me? Life is meant to be lived together, its prettier that way.

I find it odd that Americans make fun of our propensity for gratitude this month. Sure, we may not remember to be thankful all year, but what is wrong with reminders to stay grounded in gratitude for at least thirty days? Dylan and I have been sharing what we are thankful for each day at the dinner table this month. Maybe we will continue as we move into a new year, maybe we won’t. Either way the practice is grounding when focusing on the present.

I have also chosen to participate in a fun social media project using the hashtag #30daysofreal. I find that gratitude comes with acceptance for me, and there is nothing better than breaking down the fake illusions we often create on social media. The hashtag is meant to portray the good, the bad, and the beautiful in real life – at least for 30 days. Join us if you will. It’s fun.

What are you giving to the world? Is it gratitude, is it authenticity, or perhaps something else?

No biscotti.

New Essie Polish: Frilling Me Softly – SO FUN FOR THE WINTER HOLIDAYS

Work in Progress

You know that Home Depot commercial, or maybe it’s Lowes, with the young couple flirting their way through painting a room in their half furnished house? The woman’s hair is pushed into one of those unattainable messy pony tails, the sprigs of hair perfectly framing her face, while the man’s navy shirt accentuates his nice muscles as he applies paint to a wall with a roller. As he writes a love note on the wall with a nice ocher color, she basks in his cleverness. Joyful music plays and the advertisement laughingly suggests, ‘Oh if you only buy from us, how blissful this process of home improvement can be.’

That was us this weekend! My hair perfectly poised atop my head as we worked as a team to start the process of repainting our multi-colored house. Not.

There were no love notes rolled onto the wall, no drama either, but instead the shocking realization that, dang it, the color Dylan wanted is way more, well….white, than previously anticipated. Two coats of Behr Ultra paint and $30 in and we are probably going to start over.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon at around 3 pm. I am yelling instructions off of the online manual from inside our kitchen through the space in the sliding door as Dylan crouches under our deck, attempting to drain the hot tub we inherited in the move (long story – I’d be happy to share if you are interested). “Pull the black plug towards you and attach it to the hose,” I yell. “There is no black plug Katie,” he responds. “Find the number to the Aqua Spas place!”

Five hours, lots of gallons of water thrown on our lawn from a bucket, a headlamp, teamwork, and $70 of hot tub chemicals later the silly machine has been drained and the water replaced. The pH strips tell us we are ready to enjoy our spa without the harrowing effects of well, too much acid to soak in. Good to go for the next six months.

This weekend our projects felt like works in progress. I am a finisher, according to all the personality tests out there, and so these open ended projects drive me nuts! I want deadlines and to wipe my hands on my dirty paint stained pants and to look at the wall and say, “All in a day’s work.” It’s going to take us longer than that. As I sit and write this, I stare lovingly at a lemon yellow wall in our den, windows without coverings, and I can peek into the half finished room of white white white. I have to remind myself that this adventure we just embarked on is a continuous journey in improvement.

Life. Is. A. Work. In. Progress.

It took the blessing of homeownership and the last eight weeks for me to realize I am, in no way, going to figure out this thing called life in a weekend. I can set goals and learn as I go, and call and ask for help but the beauty is in the progress. I am thrilled we chose to steer away from a “fixer-uper”. I would have gone crazy.

I love this Ralph Waldo Emerson quote. It’s going to be my mantra for the rest of the year.

I can’t function any other way and their is beauty in that. Too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. Progress, not perfection.

Nails are a mess and biscotti has been non-existent for months. Progress, not perfection.

Healthy It May Not Be

Fall is falling. I looked out my kitchen window this weekend, and the cascading crunchies covered our lawn. Until yesterday, we did not own a rake. We quickly solved that predicament with a trip to the local hardware store, and our Sunday afternoon turned into a lovely time to work on projects, chores, and maintenance of the season. Dylan raked the yard and with the way the winds are blowing, he will likely have to do it again next week. I know, I know, I’ve mentioned my love of this month repeatedly, but there is something magical about the four weeks of the year that make up October. We’ve only got one full week left – are you taking the chance to savor it?

Beauty exists in carving pumpkins- the slime of orange goop dripping down your hands as you balance a knife between your fingertips. Oh! And the delayed gratification that comes from the promise of tasty pumpkin seed snacks roasting in the oven. This weekend we joined family to make treats of caramel apples, and popcorn balls, and little morsels of chocolate. My counter at home is buzzing with sugar asking to be eaten and I find comfort in the beauty of this season’s ritual, routine, and tradition. This year has brought a multitude of unanticipated changes – mostly good for our lives. As I navigate these self-directed detours I take comfort in knowing that I, too, can create some predictability. Carving pumpkins near Halloween? You can count on it. Eating candy corn, making pumpkin bread – these are the activities that ground me as I look around and say the world is changing yet again.

This week we have had three full days of cloudy drizzle, and I can say with confidence that I have brought out my cowl, and am wearing cowboy boots, and look forward to my North Face puffy jacket becoming a part of my daily routine. I wear this coat from November to March. It’s a well-loved staple for my transition to fall. Fancy Sunday dinners may become a part of our routine as we head into dark evenings, cozy socks and fire places. Do you have any “fine Sunday night dinner” recipes you can share with me? I made this one last night and it was delicious. Healthy it may not be, but gravy sure is a beautiful thing. Wine and sage and thyme, chicken broth and cream. Yum.

I’m nearing the two year mark for this blog, and I sometimes have trouble coming up with original content because I’m noticing themes in my journey to seek beauty. I love books, coffee, and treats, time with family, self-exploration, and get-away vacations. I seem to gravitate towards these things when I feel low and just as often when I feel energized and beautiful myself. These trends bring great awareness, and great potential, as I have the ability to influence their presence in my life all by myself. As you walk through the crunching leaves ask yourself this question – “What beauty can I manifest for myself that helps me to maintain stability as the world spins madly on?”

Nope – That’s a Phrase

“Osh*t is not a word,” says the dad.

“Nope, it’s a phrase,” says the daughter.

“Sh*t is a word,” says the dad.

“Yup, sure is,” says the daughter.

“Here are the definitions,” says the dad as he proudly reads off his iPhone, using his very own dictionary app.

excrement; feces
an act of defecating; evacuation
the sh*ts – diarrhea
Slang. pretense, lies, exaggeration or nonsense
Slang. something inferior or worthless

Dad skips ahead a few

12. Slang. used to express disgust, disappointment, frustration, contempt or the like

12 give a sh*t – Slang. to care; be concerned

Daughter and mother laugh and laugh.

Playing Scrabble with my parents is a beautiful thing.

Note* – I did not win. My mom always kicks our booties.

Be a Beginner

Here is the awareness that I experienced this week. I hate being a beginner. I like, instead, having accomplished a level of mastery that is comfortable, predictable, and extremely safe. However, life continues to give me some grand opportunities to begin again, pushing me down my tunnel of safety into unknown land of what the heck am I doing? I almost cried this week while staring at a budget worksheet for a proposal I’m working on. Is this ever going to get easier? I wanted to throw the paper down and wipe my tears in the hallway bathroom. Instead, I tried again, and after two hours, the numbers finally added up in their columns appropriately.

Other areas of being a beginner?

Owning a home – luckily my husband is very zealous about projects and maintenance. I instead plan meals from the couch and feel a little anxious about water heaters and home warranties.
Being a wife – in the grand scheme of things, I’m still pretty new at this. Hence why I sit on the couch and plan meals. Wives do that right?
I have a new job. I’m more than six months in, but still learning a new skill, navigating a new team of people, and trying to balance my desire for leadership with lack of experience. Hence my tears over a budget worksheet.
Being a child that is an adult – maybe some people get used to this way before I did, but navigating relationships as an adult with both parents and in-laws can be fun and a little unclear. Is it ok to ask for help? To have my father-in-law doing our electrical and still eating dinner with my dad on a Wednesday night? I hope so.
Making new friends – this year I’ve watched numerous people I care about continue their own journeys, moving away, and going in different directions. I feel this has left a void in my own life, and I want to build new relationships. This process is awkward, requires risk, and vulnerability. Do you want make new friends too? Come over, let’s have a dinner party.

There is beauty in beginning. In admitting I don’t know quite what I’m doing, but I am trying to bring new and prosperous things to my life. At times, no all the time, I’m uncomfortable, but am finding ways to say learning is often an uncomfortable process. There is beauty here.

Something I am not new at is enjoying the full radiance of October, my favorite month. I can quote Anne of Green Gables like the rest of us, and I look forward to boots and sweaters and the return to hot coffee over iced. I haven’t brought out my sweaters yet; the weather is still over eighty degrees. I am loving the beauty of the Colorado blue skies splashed with aspens changing, and the rich hues that the trees offer as they transition into their resting space. I need to buy a bag of candy corn and eat it nibble by nibble, one color segment at a time. I look forward to these precious thirty one days each year. Chili and pumpkin bread, and crock pot meals are promising. There is something magical in this season of transition, when the mornings are cool and the sun rises later making me wake in darkness. I anticipate the return of cozy nights with blankets and big glasses of red wine. These are beautiful elements of my world that I can create and choose to participate in.

As I sit and write today, the light is dancing on my wall through the glass on our front door. The shadows move back and forth, glamorously sharing their own beauty as the leaves wave in the autumn wind. Observing these little things bring peace. I don’t feel particularly purposeful in this moment, but maybe just sitting and watching the leaves dance and bring their own beauty to my living room wall is enough.

What are you beginning? What makes you feel like you are enough?

No baked goods or manicures this week. However, this mac and cheese in the crockpot is delicious.

The Window Seat

B12. That was my boarding assignment. And A51. And B22. And B35.

I flew on four different planes in the last ten days. That is a lot of flying. I’m not sure how people who spend a multitude of time in airports do it; the shuffle, the lines, the noise, the elbowing your way onto a plane, and into a seat.

Luckily, on three out of four of these flights, my husband gave me the window seat. I still have a child-like awe for feeling the surging engines beneath me as we lift into the air, and later the rushing squeaks of breaks and lurching forward in my pleather seat as planes land. The whole process brings me much excitement. It is the taking off and arriving that is the most fun when flying. Last night, we got on our fourth plane of the week and I spent minute upon minute gazing into the sky as the sun crept into the sleepy horizon, only to disappear in a smear of color.

Remember those crayons that had the red, yellow and blue sticks all rolled into one? If you wrote one way with the crayon, you’d get a perfect line of each primary color. If you turned the wax on its side, the colors would meld into one another. That’s what I felt we were doing in that large metal bird. Racing towards the perfect line of colored crayon marked by the setting sun meeting the end of its day, drawn by our creator, as we inched towards home at rates of hundreds of miles an hour.

I spent a lot of time thinking on this flight, about change, about peace, about family and the beautiful tangled webs that we live in for sustenance, comfort and guidance. I thought about what being an adult means, where kindness lies, and how important it is to send myself reminders of self-love. As we descended into Denver, with darkness outside my window and my head pressed against the plexiglass frame, I noticed slowly, how spots of light would appear through the fog. I could look up above the wing of this plane and see stars and look below to see the lights of our cities slowly ignite their way back in to our presence. I felt like Peter Pan, dancing through the stars, above the little cities, and our tiny cars, screaming on the way to Neverland. Who wants to grow up? Some days I’m not so sure. I’m doing it though, growing up, and you probably are too.

This week, I was thrilled with the pleasure of the window seat. What beauty can be seen through a small little window as the world shrinks and expands with my change of perspective. I had a friend post this quote on Facebook the other day and I thought this wise person’s explanation of change in beauty related to the way in which we change our perceptions of beautiful things.

“You can know someone who, at first, may be very beautiful. Many days or months or years go by and they are still very beautiful. And you decide “this person is very beautiful!” And you hold them close, want to keep them.
Then, one day, they seem not so beautiful. Maybe even kind of ugly. And for many days or months or even years they are still quite ugly. And you decide “Oh, this person is actually quite ugly!” And so you push away, maybe want them to go or to figure out how to get away. We do this with everything – decide if it is ugly or beautiful – if we will stay or go. But if we practice living from our hearts, if we work very hard, we might realize that the appearance of beauty or ugliness lives in us. That things that were once ugly can become beautiful and things that were once beautiful can become ugly and it all depends on the awareness of our own hearts. Perhaps you have experienced this a little? Perhaps you have loved someone you thought would be eternally beautiful and are a little surprised when their beauty suddenly disappears and they are now repulsive, only to find a few weeks later you find them beautiful again? When we realize that beauty and ugliness are merely reflections of our own state of awareness we can start to work very hard to penetrate through this. Not work hard to find everything beautiful, but to no longer need things to be beautiful in order to love them – for love to exist in us regardless of the external.” Sadee Whip

From the road, a car is just a car, turns into traffic, a gas guzzler, annoying. The road marks our Earth, and lights are said to pollute our senses. From a window seat, though, oh how very different.

Biscotti – none – I made pumpkin bread instead

Essie Nail Polish – Gel Manicure – did you know Essie is doing gels now! What a luxury this little self extravagance was for me.

Mark the Wall

Look closely. I know this photo is hard to see. If you squint and focus on the textured wall, shaky lines of pencil graphite mark the height of three boys from the year 1994 – 2000. I took this shot of charted growth in the closet in our new second bedroom. Tic marks on the wall capture not only little guys’ height, but imagined stories of lives well lived. I’m not sure who Todd, or Bryan, or Kegan are, but they lived where I now live and created their stories before we lived here. This sweet indicator of presence and progress is too much to paint over. We can’t. I won’t erase the truth that other people have grown where I am about to experience significant personal growth.

Dylan and I have been on a whirlwind ride these last few months, and have chosen to buy a house. It was one of those experiences in life where you pray to the universe for guidance, and all the sudden your prayers are answered at a pace much more quickly than imagined. After tears in the rented kitchen, blubbering through snot and confusion saying, “I don’t know what escrow means and how the hell am I supposed to understand this mortgage paperwork” to reassuring calls with my dad who happens to sell insurance and general contractor father in law, we made it. We’ve been guided to this point, and for the most part homeownership feels good. It also feels very adult, surreal, exciting and a bit risky. I suppose it is a complicated, beautiful mess of all of the above. I was shocked, however, how easy it is once you’ve proven your income and your stability, and your birth certificate, that you just sign a stack of papers and then wham, you own a home. “Millions of people all over the world own homes Kate. You can too.” At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I’m happy the boxes are emptied, and our organization has begun, and my husband enjoys fixing things.

There has been immense beauty in this process, as doors I thought would never open have swung gracefully, accepting my presence. Through prayer I’ve experienced a beautiful peace to know that we continue to make changes that are beneficial to confidence building, and generate a comfort in place, and creative potential in projects. So many projects. I think picking colors for our new living room will be a bigger test on our marriage than choosing to co-sign on a mortgage. Side note – I was listed as “co-buyer” on our new purchase. Patriarchy be damned.

When I think back to those lines on the wall left behind in our closet, I wonder where those kids are now. I wonder if they have been experiencing the same growing pains that I have. I’m reminded to be proud of the little me that continues to get bigger. That growth is not something you ever really “achieve” and say “Ok enough of that, I’m done growing now.” I’m reminded too, to be introspective and spend time thinking about how I’ve grown in less obvious ways. On the outside our choices reflect many of the values of success that America strives for. In that, I am proud. This journey holds more truth than those standards. I am also proud of the beautiful process that lies in the self-examination through all of these big changes. The incremental leaps and bounds taken in the same amount of time that it takes a child to grow just a few inches at a time. I hope we can be in this place for awhile, continuing to stretch and assess who we want to be in this world.

If you are good at picking color samples, I need your help. If you want a coat rack, we have one for sale. I also need some sort of book – homeownership for women – that can teach me about pipes and washer/dryer hook ups, and how to make my house look like a picture from Real Simple Magazine. The pressure is beginning. All tips and tricks are welcome.

Biscotti – umm locate where the flour jar is and you got it girl

Essie Nail Polish – Material Girl – manicured hands do make you feel so much better

Buffaloes, Buffaloes, Go CU!

You know what song has been blasting through our home this week?

This one:

No. I wouldn’t exactly say that this is a beautiful thing. It’s actually rather obnoxious, but we have been playing it so much that it makes me laugh, and laughter is beautiful. I showed this clip to my mom and watching her learn these dance moves, that was beautiful.

Jimmy Fallon’s rendition is even more hilarious, and this has been keeping me laughing all weekend.

I would love if Ellen could come play the Lip Sync game with me. That woman is amazing. There are so many parts of life where you just have to find things to laugh about, and if this gets you giggling, I hope it brings some joy this week.

There was a rather large football rivalry this weekend. I just want to send a shout out to my beautiful Colorado Buffaloes! Woot Woot. I was raised in CSU territory, and attended CU, and so most days my loyalty is subpar for my alumni status. I do get really excited about the Buffaloes one weekend a year – the Rocky Mountain Showdown.

I, myself, am a lone Buffalo in a family of Rams, and so I send smack talk texts to my cousins, my mom, my uncle, anyone who will listen on one day a year. I get a little cocky and make bets that never come to fruition. Unfortunately, both teams aren’t exactly top ten in the nation.

I was so excited that the Buffs won this year. Our tv isn’t quite set up since we moved last week, and so my parents and my in-laws gathered around our radio and listened to the game. Just like in the 1940’s. Quaint. They probably ate buffalo chicken dip in the 1940’s right? Frank’s Hot Sauce was totally a thing. Enough calories for the week. Opportunities to talk smack about the Rams and mostly make fun of my family as we cheered on our favorite four legged mascots. I loved screaming the CU Fight Song from my newly organized kitchen with Dylan. My father-in-law was shocked I remembered the words. I’ll tell you a little secret – when you are a freshman at CU they give you a t-shirt with the fight song printed on the back. That way, every game you go to, you find a freshman, stand behind them, and memorize the song. When you graduate, you take that shirt, and still wear it on game days.

You sing the song. You cheer loudly. You have something to be proud of. Even when your football team has “room to grow.” Room to grow is a beautiful thing. Watching Ralphie run the field, that’s powerful. Much more than Cam the Ram.

In our culture that is seeped in competition, in proving ourselves or protecting ourselves, I was able to see through some of the rivalry, the false promises, the ridiculous shows that we put on, and laugh. That is beautiful. And oh my goodness, buffalo chicken dip is beautiful. So. Delicious.

No biscotti or nail polish this week. Stay tuned I guess.

When Goals Become Accomplishments

I just looked at the calendar. It is September 20th. You are likely reading this and thinking, well yes, just look at a calendar. You have one on your phone, and on the wall. I’ve been thinking it’s September 17th for the last four days in a row. Time is going quickly and the year is almost in the fourth quarter.

I’ve been reflecting on goals, and resolutions, and have asked myself the question, “Have you accomplished what you set out to accomplish this year?” I was drawn to my post about new year’s resolutions and realized, yes, I have done some of these things on my list. Currently, my cupboard is bare of biscotti and my nails are naked, so I’m not doing as great as I thought I would on those weekly goals.

Baked goods aside, one of my goals for the year that was not included on that list was get more involved in sharing my writing. I wanted to write an article, and get it published. And I did!

I had the privilege of connecting with a fabulous group of women who are in tune with themselves and the world around them and I had the opportunity to share a small part of my story. Thank you to Invoke Magazine for letting me join in the journey.

To read my article, click here: My Mother’s Voice Inside My Head – A Journey to Individuation.

52 Beautiful Things

An imperfect attempt to find some beauty the world has to offer. One week at a time.