 And now let us welcome the New Year-- full of things that have never been. -Rainer Maria Rilke- ♥♥♥♥ Here's to all the possibilities. HAPPY NEW YEAR! -Mia- -painting, LITTLE PEOPLE PARTY, by Kate- 2 Comments ♫♫ ♥♫*~♫♥¨*:•*¨♥. ! OH LET IT SHINE ! .•:*¨♥¨*:•¨♥♫~*♫♥♫♫ A special presentation from HG and his classmates. One of the most precious sounds around. Press play below and ring in the jubilation. ♥ HAPPY HOLIDAYS! SPREAD THE JOY and LET IT SHINE! ♥  *Above Photo: Pre-K self-portraits in all its magnificence.  I am inside my home at my writing desk. In the corner by the French bay windows. I am in my chair with a whole new day before me, and a story to write. There are whispers of doubts, and I wonder if yesterday's struggles to create with words will come again with the gremlins and fears. You know, the ones that stop us from believing in ourselves and seeing possibilities. The fears that can shout down our dreams and make us retreat with embarrassment for having dared to try. I hear them now, the mighty gremlins scratching at the surface of my thoughts and blocking my creative path. I dread being stuck and trapped with my fears:
I read and repeat as necessary, the words on my inspiration line: LOVE. BELIEVE. REJOICE. DREAM. INSPIRE. Today I say out loud: BELIEVE. I begin my writing day. -Mia ✶ A special thanks goes to Tammy Hamilton for creating the inspiration line and for the use of her photo above. Visit Tammy at her studio to see her latest creations.   The flurries flew east and west, sparkled in the city lights on the first day of December. The wind brushed its circles of soft and hard strokes against my face. Winter had arrived. I walked east and turned north at the lake, going home two miles away. I thought about my friend's Wishbone Chandelier, her wishes and memories, the sadness wrapped in the loss of her father. I thought about words to write. Was there anything I could say to ease the pain I felt her feel. The wind blew harder. Doubts were setting in. My friend and I have never met face-to-face. We met online, on Twitter. We have only known each other a few months. Maybe all that had to be said and written were words expressing how sorry I am for her loss. But in the wind I heard a father's voice (it could have been my friend's father) that was a whisper, then a cry. He said, "No. My daughter needs more. You have to tell her about your father, his father, your grandmother." I battled with the father's voice that followed me home. I said to him, "No." I feared saying the wrong thing, feared my words may cause more hurt and harm than good. I closed the door. Another memory came. I went to my friend's blog, not knowing what I was going to write. I wrote a letter. When I had reached the end ... I hit publish to send. December 1, 2010 Dearest Jennifer, As I walked home today from work, I thought about your post, WISHBONE CHANDELIER, and the meaning of it on your Dad's birthday. It brought me back to my historical fiction in progress, MORNING SUN, to my father and his father. As you already know, the story is mainly set in Viet Nam from 1932 - 1975 and is inspired in great part by my father's journal. In the journal, my father wrote about losing his own father at age twelve. He wrote: "It was the saddest day of my life." During my research for MORNING SUN, I had asked my father, his two brothers, and their mother (now my late grandmother) this question: "How did you survive the war?" They said it was their faith and my grandfather watching over them, keeping them safe. They may not have always known (or believed) this as soldiers during the war, but sitting in the kitchen with me when I asked my questions, they knew they were alive because their father had been guiding them through the light and the dark, through the war. Early in my novel, my main character's father died. His mother said to him: "Ask for him. He is not dead. He is listening." Your father is with you. He is at your side. Ask for him. Keeping you in my prayers, Mia * Wishbone Photo: by Jennifer Valentine. A TRAVEL PHOTO JOURNAL, a slide show from Tet Shimoda-- October 2010. A week with friends on the White Rim Trail in Moab, Utah. Uncommon views. Unforgettable moments. Stories and memories. Beyond the trail ... It's why we travel. ✶All photos by Tet Shimoda, chef at the Mountain Flying Fish in Breckenridge, Colorado. When Tet is not cooking, he is most likely traveling and exploring the world around him. ✶ Create your own travel experience on the White Rim Trail. ✶ If you have a chance to visit Breckenridge, definitely stop by for lunch or dinner at the Mountain Flying Fish. I have eaten there, and the food is delicious. Say Hello to Tet for me. -Mia CELEBRATE THE MOMENTS ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Welcome to Mia van Beek's haven at four days a week. Bringing life to art. Children's drawings turning into treasures that keep forever. A bracelet, a key chain. A necklace, or a bookmark. Custom design jewelry. Gold, silver, platinum, pearls, and gemstones. An heirloom renewed. A broken piece remade. It's all possible. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Meet Mia van Beek and continue the journey. Follow your dreams, they know the way.  From a scribble to a special gift. It began with Mia van Beek's desire for something special, something that she and her then three-year-old daughter, Josefine, could create together for her teacher. Mia, a master goldsmith jewelry designer from Sweden, turned to Josefine and asked her to design a pair of earrings. Later Josefine showed her mom something that was more than a scribble. She showed her mom the way to a new idea, gave to her a magical moment. Mia took Josefine's drawing and turned it into a special pair of earrings made from sterling silver, a gift her daughter's teacher loved. A new turn in the creative journey unfolded for Mia. Today she and her five- and three-year-old daughters, Josefine and Nellie, love to work together in the studio and create. For Mia, it is always a joy when she hears her daughters say to anyone who asks about her jewelry or business, FORMIA DESIGN: "My mom made this, but I designed it." "My mom can make that jewelry from YOUR drawing." Join us here next week on November 22, 2010 for a special feature and interview with Mia van Beek, a mother, wife, master goldsmith jewelry designer, and business owner now living in Charlottesville, Virginia. THE PHOTOS ♥ The bracelet shown above is a recent design from Mia's three-year-old daughter, Nellie. ♥ The scribbles shown below on yellow paper were the original designs from Mia's daughter, Josefine, that gave birth to a whole new way of seeing and creating a magical moment. ♥ At center are Josefine, Mia, and Nellie having fun last month with Halloween. ♥ Bringing life to art. To the right: A child's drawing becomes a family treasure at FORMIA DESIGN.  The training wheels were set. The helmet secured. "Are you ready?" Mom said. HG nodded and tightened his grip on the handlebar. He pressed his feet on the pedals, ready to try, ready to learn. He saw his path. Mom and Dad were behind him, cheering him on. HG pushed his legs forward. He pedaled away and said, "I'm learning to ride a bike!" With each spin of the wheel and motion, his confidence grew on a beautiful, October day. "I go fast," HG said. "I am."  The magnificence and magic of making a start: Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets: "Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now."-W.H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition Follow your dreams, they know the way. What do you dare to be?  The New Year 2010 was a few days old, and the promise of hopes and dreams had been shattered. In my living room. I sat alone with the broken pieces, my scribbled notes from a one-hour consultation with an editor. Each word revealed the ways I had failed in my story, my MORNING SUN. With dread I read the critiques: your story is flat ... it is missing an arc ... it needs a plot ... the voice is too distant ... the characters are not believable ... the story is not publishable in its current form ... Outside the wind howled, and I thought I had heard the sound of death. It was my breath trying to recover on fragile grounds. A dream was dying. I put away the sheets of paper, uncertain if I could write another word again. A quiet voice inside me said, "Time to accept the truth. You may have a story, but you do not have the skills to write it." Winter turned to spring. The cold of yesterday had left, but the chill of a lost dream remained. Each day the birds sang in the trees their songs of hope. At night my parents's heritage and all my ancestors circled my thoughts, wouldn't let me go. I heard their voices in the dark, heard them speak. Summer came. I traveled west to the Lighthouse Writers Retreat. The story I believed was miserable was now awake with hope. I dared to return to my story, my MORNING SUN. Not everything was lost. I recalled the editor's words, the ones I neglected to hear at the end of our telephone conversation: You have everything you need ... changing the voice from third person to first person will solve the story's shortcomings ... add an epilogue ... lift that veil ... let us know your characters ... I began to write, revising my story line by line. Deleting whole pages became a common occurrence. I inhaled and remembered to trust the journey.  At Sacred Cake: Every piece tells a story. Today I share with you a new scene from MORNING SUN. This one came to life after a stroll at Jennifer Valentine's Sacred Cake, after days of being stuck. Thank you, Jennifer, for asking me to share a snippet of my novel in progress. Thank you for reminding me that I had everything I needed to move forward in my dreams, for the encouragement that eased my fears. Thank you for these words at Sacred Cake: "You may discover beauty in something you overlooked before ... something beautiful ... My wish is that you leave here with feelings of inspiration and an uplifted heart." I left your place renewed. I returned to my story and began to type. The muse was at my side, and I remembered what had been lost but has since been found: no matter how dark the morning, the sun always rises. Close by was editor Alan Rinzler's email to me on August 8, 2010. I had sent him a preview of my revisions in progress. He wrote: I like the new opening very much. Good work. Keep going ... -Mia *******  IN MORNING SUN, WE REACH THE END OF ONE SCENE IN VIET NAM TO A NEW ONE IN GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN-- It was a Saturday morning in September. The sun had not risen, but my father and I were awake in the kitchen. I sat at the table and watched him pour boiling water into the sink and over a silver bowl of uncooked noodles. Steam rose from the relief. Father blinked and backed his head away. He waited. The steam evaporated like wisps of a spirit in the air. Father picked up a pair of chopsticks and stirred the noodles softening, expanding inside the bowl. His eyes were focused, his neck tilted down, his arms flexed with thick and elevated veins. It all seemed a miracle, my father standing there and preparing the day's family meals. Each inch of him in full concentration. Each inch of me feeling the pulse of my father's life. He slid the noodles into a colander and rinsed them under the fresh, running water at his fingertips. His broad shoulders stretched wide beneath a green T-shirt tucked inside his blue jeans. A black, leather belt hung around his waist. He was no longer the frail boy and young man he used to be when in Viet Nam. Today his stomach was full and his body padded with added weight. The pain of having known days without food was a faraway memory. He shook the colander. *******  |  ✶CONNECTING AND SHARING OUR JOURNEYS through the moments, travels, stories, treasures and dreams. ✶AT FOUR DAYS A WEEK. ✶Aspiring and inspiring. FROM HERE TO THERE. ✶LET'S DO. DREAM. BELIEVE.✶ -Mia T. Starr
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MIA'S TWEETS
CONTRIBUTORS & GUESTS
Click here for our special guest posts from 2010 - 2012, or click on an image above to take you there.
READERS SHARE
✶ Mia, you do such beautiful and inspiring things. Simple, effective, wonderful. Thank you. -Stan Stewart
✶ I loved your post and your description of the secret garden! Your words to me right there. :) Thank you for that experience. -Carolyn CJ Jones
✶ Beautiful post! You have such an excellent ability to impart the feeling of the retreat experience. I love this. -Stephen
✶ dearest mia, your presence is breath-
taking. as is your writing, your face, your pictures. -Rachel Awes 
✶ Action! I can almost hear the director pulling this film together, firm voice rising above the din. I know, it's a book. But you write with the taste and feel of film. The gift of vivid, clean storytelling. I look forward to the next installment! Thanks for sharing this. @virtualDavis
✶ How lovely, Mia! Thank you for sharing these poignant thoughts about
your beautiful, strong grandmother and the excerpt from your WIP. It
reads like poetry. -Caron Guillo
✶ Mia, what an amazing thing to wake up to ... that was the most beautiful imagery I've ever seen ... and your words, as beautiful as your spirit ... I can't thank you enough for sharing it. And to think I never would have seen it if it weren't for lovely you ... -Jennifer Valentine
✶ Thank you for sharing the wonderful story about how you found my artwork ... these comments are treasure for me as well as it's fuel for my next creation. -Naoko Stoop
✶ Thank you for your kind comments about my post "expanding my horizons" ... I popped over to your site for a visit, what a wonderful place you have there! I am adding you to my blog roll, I definitely need to visit, often ... -Kelly Letky
✶ Mia, you are such an inspiration with your writing, travel, advocacy and all. I am so happy to have met you here. Bless you! -Anita Bondi
TOP STORIES ~ the ones that captured your hearts. Thank you so much. ❤ ✶*¨¨*•*¨*✶☼
✶ In Venice ~ an awakening. In a swirl of art and joy. Above the grandeur. Photos, moments, and poetry.
✶ HG handed the story to Mom and said, "Put it in my packpack. Please. I want to read it in school. Okay?"
✶ MORE TOP STORIES ✶ ƒ๏ℓℓ๏ω YOUR HEART AND INTUITION ✶ experience ✶ TAKING FLIGHT WITH LIFE ✶ something new ✶ BEYOND THE TRAIL ✶ THE WAY TO THE SKY, THE WAY TO THE STARS ✶ AN IMMERSION into Writing, Bliss, and the ARTFUL LIFE ✶ MOM'S GARDEN From Vietnam to Michigan ✶SPRING ETERNAL ✶ WISHES AND CRANES WITH LOVE ✶ JOURNEYS OF HOPE ✶IF YOU FOLD A Thousand Cranes ✶¨*✶•*¨*☼✶
BELIEVING AND FOLLOWING OUR BLISS. FROM HERE TO THERE.
 ✶ PHOTO CREDITS ✶ Most photos throughout this site were taken by Mia T. Starr. All others provided by our readers and featured guests. Please contact us for additional information and permission to use the photos. Site banner created by Van T. Nguyen.  |
