Poster (Size 8 1/2 x 11)     ADD TO CART

Poster (Size 8 1/2 x 11)     ADD TO CART

A collection of beautiful tools to help you connect with others in meaningful ways. By Mary Anne Radmacher.

Writing paper, envelopes, and seals  $11.95

ADD TO CART

A powerful reminder of the possibilities that life holds when you imagine in this journal by Mary Anne Radmacher.

Soft-bound cover with placeholder strap, $12.00

ADD TO CART

A perfect, compact journal that calls you  to lean forward into life by “inspirator” Mary Anne Radmacher.

Soft-bound cover with placeholder strap, $12.00 

ADD TO CART

Mary Anne Radmacher’s signature poem adorns this lovely journal, an ideal size for carrying with you.

Soft-bound journal with placeholder strap, $12.00

ADD TO CART

One of Mary Anne Radmacher’s most powerful quotes graces the cover and inspiring quotes are shared throughout this journal.

Soft-bound journal, $13.95

ADD TO CART

Real Beauty is…

• the courage to stand up for what you believe in,
• extending a hand (or more) to help those in need
• experiencing life in all its richness…the good…the challenging…the unexpected…with the openness of a child and the eye of an artist
• sharing your best self and to accept your imperfections as part of that best self (those things that make you uniquely you)
• offering encouragement and energy and enthusiasm with the world, and acknowledging when you need the same from others
• being filled with wonder and awe about what life has to offer and what you have to offer that life
• allowing grief to flow through you until you can raise your head again and say “I have not only survived, I have learned, I have grown, I have taken something powerful and meaningful from this experience”
• learning all you can and sharing what you can with those who also want to learn
• siting in silence and being comfortable with who you are and what you are experiencing in that moment
• mentoring others so they can explore their greatness and serve the greatest needs of the world
• savoring the simple pleasures and the extraordinary “once in a lifetimes” with equal abandon
• loving your “real” self and honor the “real” self in others
• sharing a spiritual connection with everyone you meet, regardless of religion or philosophy or opinion
• offering blessings (both in word and in thought) to others on a regular basis
• caring for and about yourself in the same ways you care for and about others and the world
• regularly asking, “is what I’m about to say or think or do serve the greatest good for all concerned?”
• celebrating the tiniest of “wins” and the most modest of progress as lusciously as you celebrate the most significant of accomplishments
• living in a powerful state of gratitude and showing authentic appreciation to others in your life (including yourself)
• realizing that real beauty is not seen or appreciated only in the shell of a body, but rather felt and shared because it is everything inside that shell and everything you interact with and impact that surrounds that shell.

Real beauty is a state of mind and a series of actions and a sharing of experiences. It is the stuff of miracles.

Last night, my sister, Alicia, felt highly motivated to strategize a way to get me into the bathtub full of Epsom salts to help heal my back.  Having missed my luxurious soaks in the healing waters of my “tub for two,” I was tentative but open to the idea.

So, she proceeded to prepare the bath, filled with Epsom salts and several healing types of aromatherapy oils, and even took the step of setting tea-light candles all around the perimeter of the tub (partly because she’s really that thoughtful and partly because I was having a complete physical and emotional meltdown in the other room from pain and frustration).  We’ll never really know which factor was the overriding one.

She recruited Michael to help orchestrate a pretty impressive (and successful) transition into the tub, which required her to roll her pants up and step into the back of the tub  to be on the receiving end of my alternately limp and spasm-racked body.  She braced herself like a linebacker and Michael started the hand-off.  Suddenly she stopped short of the full execution, leapt up, and said “what the…” followed by wording fully inappropriate for polite company.

She whipped around and yes, indeed, she had lit her butt on fire with one of the thoughtfully placed votives at the side of the tub.  Thankfully she caught it just as it was beginning to fully blaze, but I might say that he once very adorable white crop pants are now creatively adorned with a lovely shade of charcoal.

And after I learned that her skin was intact and she was ok (with the exception of grieving the loss of her super-cute-go-with-anything pants) I realized that this was a moment that truly illustrated unconditional love.  From the thoughtfulness to the practical help to the recruiting of support to the flaming butt, I am loved.  Now that, fair readers, is a nice feeling.  A far nicer feeling than she experienced during the whole interlude, but a really lovely feeling for me none the less.

With guests in the house (and their twin one-year-olds), Malina is sleeping on the floor in our room for the next week because she gave up her room to allow extra space for them (not only willingly but uncharacteristically pleasantly), and she actually took the initiative to put clean sheets on the bed without being asked.  Yes, weird.  Yes, nearly unheard of.  I know.  I don’t understand it either, given my well-documented aversion to housekeeping of any kind (see several chapters in Laugh, Cry, Eat Some Pie for vivid and disturbing details).

In any case, I walked into my (quite messy) bedroom this morning to spy Malina’s little corner of the room tidied just so, with sleeping-bag bed neatly made, clothes uniformly stacked on the makeshift bed, books stacked with precision on her pillow, and her slippers placed “just so” at the foot of the bed.  I again had to ask myself “can I really claim this child as my own?  It just doesn’t make sense…my genes could not possibly produce a child this meticulously tidy and organized.”

To prove it, I’ll let you in on a little secret:  I then had to take a snapshot of her mini-domicile from four different angles to make sure it ONLY  showed her bed so it wouldn’t reveal the “chaotic but warm and lived in” nature of the rest of my bedroom (AKA the “scene of the grime”).  The proof’s in the picture, people.

I’m thinking something skipped a generation.  No doubt about that. But we all have to celebrate our own strengths, right? RIGHT?