Standing barefoot on the wet grass, sipping coffee as the sun slowly rises

An at-home manicure that doesn’t need to be fixed

Cold breezes that make the curtains dance back and forth

The first words written in a brand-new journal

Pulling out the right number of clothes hangers on the first try

A house so quiet all you can hear is the slight trickle of coffee brewing

Stacks of books perched next to an already overflowing bookcase

A spooky movie enjoyed with the lights down low, with candles aglow

Waking up without an alarm

Eating takeout right out of the containers

The first sleep nestled in the warmth of flannel sheets

Freshly baked bread served with a bit of butter

Finding the pen that makes your handwriting look beautiful

The smell of the first rainstorm of the season

When your hair curls just right

Opening a used book and finding someone’s shopping list

The post More of This, Please first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

I recently had one of those moments where my heart filled with complete joy.

You know those moments … the ones where you look around, take a deep breath and say to yourself, “More of this, please.” And it was nothing of significance; just a simple fire roaring in our backyard, filling the air with that campfire smell and providing a little extra warmth as the night grew colder. But in that moment, I wondered to myself why we didn’t do this more.

Why don’t I do any of the little stuff that brings me such utter joy more?

I’m not talking about those big important things, like vacations or even fancy dinners out (though I do enjoy those quite a bit too).

I’m talking about those tiny little things that take almost no effort to do, yet make a profound impact on how I feel.

Like …

Asking for my latte to be served in a mug when we stop by the local coffee store

Brewing that cup of Sleepy Time tea that always relaxes me before bedtime

Having friends over to share a pizza and some laughs

Painting my nails that shade of lilac that always makes me smile

What are we so busy with that we can’t take an extra five minutes out of our day to do something that makes us so happy? Why do we commit ourselves to doing things we really don’t want to do? It’s this thought that has made me create a summer bucket list for myself. It only has one item:

Prioritize joy.

True, authentic joy.

The post Prioritizing Joy first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

Perhaps it is the glossy pictures in magazines or the romantic gondola rides featured in films that romanticise Venice. Yet, as I meandered across the canals of the city of water, I struggled to find the romance or beauty in the maze of streets.

So, on my second night in Venice while the setting sun drew in to the clouds overhead, I entered St. Mark’s square. I nurtured the hope of drawing away from the bustling tourist-packed passageways that ran like veins through the city.

The largeness of the space I had suddenly entered birthed breath. An open-air restaurant floated between fairy lights while diners sipped on frosted wine glasses.

I paused and pulled it in.

The pigeons flew up from the pavement like a curtain pulling up on the first nights’ concert, and there I saw them, a man in a black pair of pants and a woman wearing white. He held out his hand and she touched it gently, closing her eyes as she closed the vacant space between them.

The restaurant musicians smiled and played with deeper conviction. I stopped, the diners turned, and the music played for this audience of two. Drawing her leg up beside his, they paused to remember each other’s moves, to remember this moment. The tiny tiles beneath their feet seemed to glide with their Tango, and I watched them, ignorant of the slowed pace of people and pigeons. They clung to one another as though this casual dance was a painful goodbye.

Something stilled within me and my eyes filled with tearful wonder. The unashamed desire to dance together was something I hardly witnessed in the world I inhabited. The music finally stopped and the tiny crowd clapped. Red cheeked, the lovers laughed and bowed, so unaware of their impact and their offering. I watched them leave, breathed in, and knew that I had unexpectedly stumbled on to something beautiful.

The Venetian streets curled and twisted, every alley identical to the one before. The orange lights hung overhead, struggling to stay awake. As I wandered in to the maze of unmarked roads, I marked the absence of ambulance sirens and televisions sets. I was alone with the eerie specter of silence.

I yearned for the beauty of home, South Africa, with its casual cacophony of sirens and smells. I was a stranger in Venice and something inside of me ached, homesick. I promised myself that I would not go further as darkness settled around me, but as I passed in to another street, a burst of happy light smiled on my pulled face.

Boxes of books spilled out on to tables.

An old woman sat on a low chair, reading from a yellowed paperback. Intrigued, I walked over to the foreign works and ran my fingers across the dust-licked, unwanted works of art. I could not understand the titles or the Italian that dotted the covers. Without thought to my hearts honest cry, I began to sing a song about home. A popular Afrikaans South African song.

From behind a stapled wooden shelf, a man in a brown suit popped out, his smile big, his eyes bright. He greeted me with a traditional Afrikaans greeting and his strong South African accent was a symphony. He neared my side and we spoke, he shared the details of his business trip to Venice. I drank in the wonder of how a heart’s raw cry for home can pull home towards itself, no matter how far the distance between body and country. I traced my steps back towards the hotel, my heart refreshed with the ringing sound of home. I felt complete.

The next day, I lay on the bed, tired. The afternoon sun was perfect as it draped across my arm. The gentle breeze sighed in from Juliet’s balcony. It was my final day in Venice and as I closed my eyes, I prayed for something comforting to ease my sleep. My eyes grew heavy and closed in to hammocks of sleep.

Halfway between the present and unconscious, a tender melody licked my sleep. Ave Maria crying on violin strings. I waited there, moved by the sound of the aching violin. I slipped off the bed and on to the balcony, searching for the song’s bearer.

A few meters away, beside a spouting fountain, stood a long-haired virtuoso of the violin.

So meticulous were his movements, so timed were the notes, and so perfect was the prayer resonating from silk strings. I walked out to where he stood and sank down beside the fountain, allowing the sound to rock me.

No one else seemed to notice him, but I noticed the answered prayer: the gift that beauty can be found anywhere, even when eyes are closed. The gift of the sound of an ancient prayer. Offered on the strings of a stranger.

Lauren lives at the edge of Africa, where two oceans collide. She is a novelist, poet and freelance writer who believes in the power of red shoes and chocolate. She is happily married to her best friend, Tim and shares her heart’s songs over at her website, www.laurenjacobs.co.za. Find her on Facebook and Instagram @profuselyprofound.

Have you ever unexpectedly stumbled upon something beautiful? Share with us in the comments.

The post Stumbling Upon Beautiful in Venice first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

Dearest Pretend,

I’m writing this letter to thank you for never leaving me, even after all this time, after I went ahead and grew up. Even now – you stay. And I love you, because I need you, and to be able to pretend, and you know me like no one else could.

I feel you close by, just a whisper’s distance, even when life gets overwhelming and my Second Star seems quite far away. You are in my periphery always, and I want you to know that I catch a precious glimpse of you each time you come to visit like the treasured company you are.

I get a peek of you when I spot fireflies, sporadic, and twinkling with a light I could swear was lit just for me.

The briefest glimpse of you is everywhere when my daughter dances in the trails of glitter strewn about her fairy garden.

I discover you passing by where the wind picks up, and the leaves crescendo into a symphony only you could have composed.

When my son’s eyes grow hazy and lost in the pages of a book, imagining worlds beyond anything we know, I know you are there.

So much of you reside in the brightest corners of my imagination, where my thoughts itch and tickle to be written upon a page. You are here, beside, and within me.

Whether life is filled to the brim or dry cup empty, flashes of you are all around me.

Like a shadow that stretches behind me, reappearing with the light, I know you will follow me, quiet and unassuming. You are better than a muse because you’re never fickle or fleeting. You stay.

And this, Pretend, is just to say you are as wonderful as you are wonder-filled. So I hope, with all the sparkliest bits of hope I can muster, that you will always find space enough within me, to grow. I promise to keep your window unlocked.

All my once upon a times and dreams come true are yours,

A Grateful Friend

Elle Harris is a believer of impossible things. She is a lover of words, wonder, and the whimsical delights of everyday living. Caught in the creative place between reality and imagination is her favorite place to be. Please join Elle in pursuing life with intention, and grand conversation on her blog thisquotablelife.wordpress.com. Find Elle on Instagram and Twitter @ElleHarris82.

The post A Thank You Note to Pretending first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

He carried a floral gift bag bigger than any purse I owned into my kitchen. My birthday present. I wore a dress the colors of the ocean, my hair curled, my makeup done for our night at the philharmonic. I couldn’t wait for the night to start, but lingering excitement came over me as I suspected what might just be in that floral bag.

The tissue paper susurrated as I swept it aside and withdrew a wrapping paper-covered box. It was a carrying case, and inside was my 1948 Remington Rand typewriter. The tiny metal arms stamped with letters and numbers fanned around the green-gray shell and the black ribbon that transfers the ink to the creamy linen pages. The silver lever that moved the type to the next line gleamed. A tiny part of me suspected, but I didn’t let myself believe, that this glittering slice of magic was in that bag. It was the most romantic gift I’ve ever received.

I felt like Hemingway or Fitzgerald or even Zelda just looking at the thing, even though my typewriter is from a completely different era. As I pressed each fingertip into the key, I realized how much more effort it takes to produce even a word, to make your fingers move in tandem.

When I type, I think of the person who possessed it before me.  Did she type only at work, or did she place that typewriter into the black carrying case and write among the trees?

I think now of the similarities that must exist between my typewriter and the machine my granddad used to have, back when he could type 90 words per minute on a manual typewriter without mistake. I think of the writers who wrote every single draft on these things, replacing ribbons when they dried out or arms when they broke off, and lugged their machines to desks and park benches to write.

Typewriters weren’t always such a novelty. The backspace bar existed even in the forties, but you could never completely erase your work. It was inconvenient then, but now there’s something freeing about allowing yourself to make egregious typos over and over again. It’s a gift to hear the gears click and the keys clack as the letters walk across the thick, linen page. There’s something magical about slowing down to write, taking the time to think gently about the things that matter without worrying about how long it takes.

I’d always wanted a typewriter so I could finally escape the glowing computer screen. Now, I can’t imagine a more charming way to reengage with technology and simultaneously disconnect.

I admit that I didn’t end up using the typewriter for much beyond my first drafts. It soon became the best way for me to map my characters’ emotions onto the page before a plot took shape. My first drafts on my typewriter often start with a tail of dialogue or a shocking first line. I’ll usually throw that part out, rejecting it again and again until I find the right entry point into the story.

Most days, my typewriter spends its life on my bookshelf waiting for me. Days go by, and sometimes I don’t always get to write. The truth is, a typewriter doesn’t make writing any cleaner than it ever was. I still jot down notes in the margins and lose track of pages, but the most satisfying thing about a typewriter is that they are one of the most beautiful relics we have of an era we have no memories for.

When I write, I wonder if the person who bought this typewriter in 1948 was a writer like me. When the words are borne onto the page with a clack and the sentences punctuated with a ring at the end of the line, I know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I may never know for sure who owned this typewriter first or the journeys my Remington Rand might have taken, but that piece of the past will always be the elegant alternative that lets me find a window into the past.

Kayla Dean is a Vegas-based writer who reports about arts and entertainment. She also interviews writers and blogs about living a creative life on kayladean.com. Find her on Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest @kayladeanwrites.

The post The Magic of Writing on a Typewriter first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

There are moments where I wish life was wrapped up and under my control, but I also want openness and ease. I crave certainty, but I’m most alive when life unfolds in messy and beautiful ways.

Like many people, I hope for a quick fix — a magic pill that lets me leap over difficult circumstances. This is the craving of my small mind. When I listen to the big mind of my heart, I find wisdom: I only grow if I do the hard, honest work, knowing I’ll begin again and again.

People ask me about my photography. They inquire about necessary equipment for beautiful bokeh or quick tips for stunning images. My response is bare bones: watch light, slow down, pay attention, try new things, and make mistakes. It’s not about the equipment; it’s about how we see the world. Beneath these questions, I hear the longing of our small minds: If it’s about the equipment, I have a quick fix; I have an easy path. But photography requires time, patience, and commitment. A new camera doesn’t make art and beauty. That’s supplied by our souls.

When I teach meditation, I have people sit in chairs. No cushion needed, just a chair. There are no perfect conditions for mindfulness. We sabotage ourselves by thinking change must be grand or circumstances must be perfect. There is great gain in a 3-breath pause. Regular meditation, for just five minutes, creates a clearing. The practice: show up, be present with honesty and gentleness, and start again when needed. No quick fixes in meditation. No quick fixes in life.

During my time in academia — working long hours, feeling important yet equally feeling unworthy — I focused on equipment. I bought new books. I searched for the perfect floor rug, serving bowl, or colorful scarf. I used multi-stage, expensive skin lotions. I longed for new camera lenses. Yet this external focus removed me from what I most needed: self-kindness, connection with my inner compass, and space to listen inward.

My current life is less complex. With simplification, I gain clarity: It’s not about the camera, it’s about how I see. It’s not about the clothes, it’s about how I feel inside. It’s not about the meditation bench, it’s about how I stay with myself: stay as I would with a close friend. We often seek externally that which is only found internally. A contented life is not about equipment or circumstances. A contented life is built brick by brick from the inside out. Each day I remind myself to slow down, pay attention, and be kind; to start exactly where I am; to trust that everything I need is already inside of me.

Joy Jordan is both a teacher and student of mindfulness in Appleton, WI. She lives, teaches, writes and photographs with a curious mind and an open heart. You can find her at BornJoy.com.

The post It’s Not About the Equipment first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

“I believe in magic. Subtle, everyday magic. Each morning before I give myself a chance to to doubt otherwise, I smile knowing that this day is laced with wonders, and it’s my plan to focus on finding them.”

– “Mining Magic” by Suzanne Robbins, Bella Grace Issue 7

When I started working on the Grace Notes Blog Hop in March, I was a beginner to the process. It was my first time coordinating anything like this and truth be told, I was a little nervous. I wanted this blog hop to be just as inspirational as the Bella Grace Blog Hop hosted on Somerset Place. I also wanted to have it be reflective of the kinds of heartfelt narratives found in the pages of Bella Grace, and to showcase the fantastic stories that readers could discover within Grace Notes. In retrospect, I didn’t need to be nervous. There was an indescribable kind of magic in the air that I trusted to guide me. By believing in that magic, I knew this blog hop was going to turn into something very special.

Before I knew it, we had 26 soulful bloggers, writers, photographers, and poets on board to share their own tales of everyday magic through Bella Grace-inspired stories, personal narratives, and photographs. These talented storytellers took us on a thoughtful journey, taking the A train to magic and exploring new places full of wonder that were somewhere over the rainbow.

Our co-hosts paused to discover joy in simple, everyday practices like the love of laundry, writing, and the ritual of tea. We read musings on the power of keeping a promise and fearlessly embracing big changes. And much like the everyday magic you would find within the pages of Bella Grace, they shared tales of discovering your wings, quiet confidence, and how life is in the lyrics of a great song.

I’ve only shared a handful of the magic from our co-hosts, but if you missed out on savoring the comfort, beauty, and inspiration, take a moment to go back and dive into a world of original, encouraging posts that are now a part of our Grace Notes adventure.

None of this would have been possible without our brilliant co-hosts, so thank you to each and every one who participated. Thank you for sharing your words, images, and hearts with us and the Bella Grace and Grace Notes communities.

Share your favorite soulful story in the comments below!

The post We Conclude the Grace Notes Blog Hop: Life’s Ordinary Magic first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

As I balance my left foot and move into tree pose, I anchor myself as if a life-giving root sprung suddenly between me and the ground.

I look up and see myself in the mirror, confronting the person I see: she is more in tune with her mind. Her heartbeat and breath have become the measurement by which she estimates herself. She is alive and breathing, the clock that moves her towards mindfulness.

Yoga always makes me aware of the things I take for granted. In the peace of Shavasana, the real last pose of the class, I feel an untranslatable calm wash over me. I’m not making a mental list of all the things I have to do when I get home. I’ve broken my attachment to my phone. Most importantly, I’ve stopped comparing myself to others.

The creative process has the same quality. We often fight our impulse to make beautiful things because we don’t feel good enough or simply believe we can’t make anything worthwhile with the few minutes available to us in our busy days. Just like yoga poses, exercising our creativity can leave us refreshed. It may not be easy to get over creative fear, but the effort will always be valuable. Don’t feel overstretched. Take a moment to consider these 11 lessons I learned at yoga that taught me about creativity.

1. Make things even if there isn’t a clear end result. Many people say exercise should make you lose weight, but your mental sanity is worth infinitely more. Writing a story or painting may not have a clear path, but it’s worth the effort.

2. It’s OK to not get things right the first time. Yoga instructors may correct you, but it’s okay. It’s also freeing to write and rewrite, knowing that the effort makes the work better.

3. Don’t avoid creating because you’re afraid. Sometimes, I find myself running away from writing even when I’ve carved my day around the activity. Getting past this fear is the only way we can, literally, sweat it out until we learn. It makes us feel more alive.

4. Don’t compare yourself to others. When we’re in a yoga class, we’re not supposed to look to the experts around us who can do the poses effortlessly. Be you. Do the poses your way, just as you should create beautiful things your way. Singular focus helps you learn.

5. Do things that aren’t easy because they’re worth it. Just like those challenging yoga poses (ya hear me, utkatasana?), we should endeavor to create things that aren’t easy. The effort may reward you more than you think.

6. You can always gain more creativity. Just like balance, creativity is something you can always get back and gain more of.

7. Make more quiet space for yourself. The quiet space after yoga is like the space we should make for ourselves at the end of the day. It’s like that Chinese proverb: Make your whole year’s plans in the spring, and your day’s plans early in the morning. Now is the perfect moment.

8. Do more deep breathing. The other night as I was falling asleep, I was tense with worry about the changes in my life. I remembered my yoga breath and exhaled deeply into my stomach and felt the tension leave my body. In moments of creative doubt, breathe deeply to relax yourself.

9. Realize that getting to know yourself is just as important as getting to know other people. When you take the time to enjoy quiet, you can regain your impressions and turn them into art.

10. Show people what you’re working on. If we always hide the things we make, how can we share with others what makes us so happy?

11. You, your art, and your life will never be perfect. Let this be the freeing fact that it is.

Instead of leaving class exhausted, I feel revived. Breathing through the rigor of an intense stretch allows me to focus on the little ideas left wandering in my head that could one day be powerful.

For this moment, I feel peace.

What has yoga taught you about creativity? Share a comment below and let us know or tweet us @BellaGraceMag!

Kayla Dean is a Vegas-based writer who reports about arts and entertainment. She also interviews writers and blogs about living a creative life on kayladean.com. Find her on Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest @kayladeanwrites.

The post 11 Lessons Yoga Taught Me About Creativity first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

When I was little, I built forts with my brother, whether it was in the living room with chairs put together and blankets for a roof, or in the backseat of the car on long trips, setting up the blanket as our creative wall between us. I had my space, and he had his.

We may not have survived those trips with all the fire and dreams inside of us if we weren’t able to be alone! It’s no surprise that when we would arrive home from these trips, we would dash out of the car, grabbing all the stuff we accumulated, and we were already on our way to doing or pursuing whatever was turning in our heads on the drive — like the birth of my detective agency, or my act for the elementary school talent show.

I don’t know why there is such a stigma or fear with having alone time as we get older, and yet we crave it all the while. Alone time is right! Alone time can be magical!

Now read carefully, because I’m about to give you THE SECRET to creating your own “me” time.

The secret to carving out your alone time is making alone time a requirement in your day. It’s about finding home inside of you — finding out what you love deep down, and pulling that up each day. Here’s what you can do to find home and carve out your own special pocket of alone time:

1. Wake up early. If your work day starts very early, it’s good to make a habit of setting your alarm for at least one hour before you need to physically get started.

(Photo credit: Jillian Lukiwski, Bella Grace Issue 3)

2. Make a car-specific music playlist or take a quiet drive to your destination. Let your mind wander, and once again, find home in its wanderings. Think about where you’re at and what you’re doing. Does it reflect your life positively? If it does not, what else would you like to do? Consider your options and open your mind to the bigger picture. Think. Dream. Believe. Appreciate.

3. Spend the night in. We don’t always need to be going out and staying forever overscheduled. In doing this, you’re ultimately not creating order in your heart. Put on those favorite pajamas, get cozy in a comfortable chair, and reflect back on all that you loved as a child. Why not go back and reminisce a little? It’s still who you are. Go ahead, put on Full House, and binge watch a little — “You got it, dude!”

4. Color! Coloring is great for relaxation, and freeing your mind.

5. Pick up an instrument you haven’t played in a while, paint, write, try out a new poetry style, or revisit a favorite book.

(Photo Credit: Elizabeth Lehman, Bella Grace Issue 3)

6. Take yourself out on a date. Go to your favorite café with your art, or book in tow, or to a museum, or the park, or wherever you would like. It’s your date, so put on a favorite outfit, and revel in all that you are, and all that you love!

7. Put aside some time at work to be alone. Make the most of your lunch break by finding a quiet corner where you will be undisturbed. Even if it is just a fifteen minute break, let the quiet enter you. Meditate, reflect, and use the time for YOU!

Home can be found no matter where you go. Whether you are at home or out, the mind gets busy. Home is always there inside of you, but it needs to have attention, like any relationship. Your fort needs to be built into your daily life — the place you go to where no one else is allowed in but you. It’s a place you can always draw up, and realize all the more that you are unique, special, and you are meant to live a beautiful, magical, and adventurous life!

Christie Leigh Babirad lives in Long Island, New York. Her blog “Living in Dark Blue” with the premise, ‘to be passionately following your heart,’ can be found at christieleigh87.blogspot.com. She welcomes email at christieleigh.babirad@gmail.com.

The post 7 Tips For Creating Home No Matter Where You Go first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.

One thing I’ve learned in my life is that most of us are looking for reassurance that we aren’t alone.

Whether it’s a personality trait you worry is odd, a penchant for the unusual, or difficult life circumstances, we just want someone to say “Me too!” or “I know just how you feel.”

This is something I learned as a teenager, when I chose Jane Austen and knitting over nights out with friends. I longed for someone who would sit next to me with some yarn and knitting needles, ready to talk about Emma Woodhouse or Elizabeth Bennet. Surely I wasn’t the only 14-year-old who preferred to spend her time this way.

Bella Grace began as a series of “Me too’s!” shared between Kellene Giloff, the President of Stampington & Company, and myself. We both had a similar outlook on life and similar passions. It was comforting, and we knew there were others like us out there. We wanted to start a magazine that was filled with women who found overwhelming pleasure from the simple things in life. They were women who, despite difficult circumstances, continued to seek out life’s beauty. Women who shared and celebrated their unique quirks. Women who wanted to support other women.

We knew we achieved our goal when we received letter after letter from women connecting with Bella Grace. Many compared reading the stories to having heartfelt conversations with a close friend. That we are able to provide comfort and company to women around the world is something we are extremely proud of.

From the pages of the magazine and into real life, “Bella Grace” has become somewhat of a person to Kellene and me. She savors life — from that first sip of her morning coffee to the 15 minutes to read in bed she steals for herself each night. She doesn’t find it funny that you like taking pictures of your feet all over town because she enjoys the very same thing. She writes letters — real, handwritten ones — to her friends. She stays up all night talking to you about how lovely it would be to pack up her things and move to a small town where she can live a quiet life.

Most of all, she is there for you when you need her most. Bella Grace is all of us.

My best,

Editor-In-Chief, Bella Grace Magazine

The post If Bella Grace Was a Person first appeared on Bella Grace Magazine.