by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 31, 2012 | All The Rest of Life, Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss, Spirituality
One fall-out of all the workshops, classes, conferences and workshops I've attended are the plethora of notes. I have storage bins and shelves of note-crammed journals. Transcribed here, from the little black notebook that hitches a ride in my purse, are these...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 26, 2012 | Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Spirituality
It was an eclectic bunch from around Middle Tennessee who clustered at the mammoth log-cabin-style retreat home of a friend's father. Those gathering on a sun-blessed November Thursday shared a common sense of spirituality and a potluck of earthy-homemade...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 19, 2012 | Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss
We. Are. Everywhere. We are your children. We are your grandchildren. Your nieces and nephews. Your cousins. Your neighbors. Your co-workers' children. Your co-workers. The offspring of friends of your friends. Your spouse/significant other. Image source: The...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 17, 2012 | Art, Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Spirituality
Do you know how important your voice is to the world? Every person has a story. Really. June 1, I was priviledged to join forces with Lacey Lyons, Belmont University adjunct English professor and Courtney Taylor Evans, of the Vanderbilt Kennedy Center to...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 12, 2012 | Art, Autism/Disability, Nature, Travel
Photo: ©LeisaHammett.com, Orcas Island, WA.; view from Mt. Constitution, 2010 Stealthily. Much. Too. Slow. It. Creeps. Seeping. Up from my toes. Dark. Somewhat somber. A blanket of stillness. It crushes my chest. Sits on my heart. Masks my voice. Wanted: this...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jul 6, 2012 | Art, Autism/Disability, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Spirituality, Travel
Funny….Time, when in the midst of it, seems an eternity. Long gone, it is a fleeting memory. Summers past. Precious days. Years-on at a camp inclusion. Then: aged out. Now, 18. We have little such possibility. At the start of our journey, two...
