Resilience In My Fingertips

During those tough times, and even now when the flickers of sorrow occasionally return, I’ve sought solace in things that rekindle that warmth in my heart. You know, those favorite hobbies or cherished people who can make your heart flutter with happiness. I’m talking about my love for gardening, the feel of rich soil on my hands, the serene rhythm of planting and nurturing life, the joy of seeing a tiny seed grow into a blooming plant. It’s about those quiet evenings when I lose myself in the world of writing, crafting narratives, and expressing my emotions through words.

And then there are the invigorating walks, my faithful dogs by my side, their tails wagging with every step. The simple act of reading, of diving into another world, getting lost and found in someone else’s story. The therapeutic nature of drawing, the creativity flowing from my heart, through my hands, onto the canvas. And the joy of redecorating, transforming a space, making it my own.

Each of these activities required a different part of me. Some needed my nurturing spirit, others my creativity, and a few my physical energy. But they all shared one thing in common – they required my presence, my active participation in the moment.

These projects, be it decorating, crafting, or gardening, had another benefit. They allowed me to plan and look forward to something. In the midst of the turmoil, they provided a sense of purpose, a goal to work towards. They were islands of stability in the sea of uncertainty.

And by spending time doing these things, I found myself reconnecting with the joy that was buried deep within. It was like brushing off the dust from an old, forgotten treasure, one which was there all along, waiting to be rediscovered.

Focusing on these positive moments, these sparks of joy, served as gentle reminders that there was still goodness in the world, even when I was going through the wringer. They reminded me that life, with all its ups and downs, still had the capacity to surprise, delight, and heal me. And that was an invaluable lesson.


In gardens and writing, a comfort I find, 
in companionship of dogs – a peace of mind. 
Every seed sown, every tale spun, 
a testament to moving on with each rising sun
In projects and passions,
directions take hold, 
in each stroke and line, 
stories unfold. 
An anchor and compass in life’s stormy sea, 
reminding me gently 
of who I am and can be.
From the canvas of chaos, 
to a space of my own, 
in each act of creation, 
my resilience has grown.
In every seed, every word, 
every artful line, 
in silence and storm, 
in the everyday divine, 
I seek and I find 
in the depth of despair, 
a world without waiting, 
a joy to declare.

(2017 © Julia Delaney)


The Sparks I Weave

Through seasons of sorrow, 
where shadows grow long, 
I seek out the solace 
where my heart finds its song. 
In the hush of a garden, 
under the soft sifting light, 
with hands in the earth, 
my spirit takes flight.
Each seed is a promise, 
a secret unfurled, 
in this richness of soil, 
I cradle the world. 
From planting to blooming 
life hums its vibrant song, 
In the rhythm of growth, 
my soul finds its belong.
When dusk softly settles, 
words whisper my name, 
with a pen as my lantern, 
I kindle the flame. 
Stories unravel, 
emotions set free, 
swept by the currents of narratives 
I weave…
Strolling through twilight, 
dogs faithful and near, 
in their wagging-tailed joy, 
all my troubles disappear. 
A book in my grasp, 
I take flight through its pages, 
lost and then found 
in other lives, other ages.
With a sketchpad and colors
creativity flows, 
from the heart through my fingers 
onto canvas it grows.
In the joy of reshaping my space, 
each corner, 
each wall, 
in the spaces I shape, 
I can see my all.
Each passion’s a piece of a larger design, 
calling for care, energy, a creative line. 
But all demand my presence, 
active and true, 
in these acts of creation
I find my own view.
These projects, these passions, 
they light up the way, 
give purpose and promise 
to each dawning day. 
They’re my anchor in chaos, 
my solace in the storm, 
islands of calm in a world often torn.
Beneath the dust of despair, 
joy stirs deep within, 
a forgotten treasure, 
patiently waiting to begin. 
Each spark of delight, 
each moment of peace, 
are gentle reminders 
that sorrow will cease.
Life’s a spectrum, 
valleys and peaks, 
but the capacity for joy 
forever speaks. 
Through every struggle, 
every tear I’ve shed, 
It’s the art of living 
that moves me ahead.
Because in every stroke, 
in each seed, each line, 
in the quiet and the chaos, 
the mundane and divine, 
there’s a song to be sung, 
a story to tell, 
in the heart of creation, 
where I feel most aware. 

(2021 © Julia Delaney)

The Sparks I Weave

Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia

Healing through Loss


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