Shannon Crossman learned the hard way that untapped creative energy casts a helluva shadow, so she crafts her sanity with her hands daily. Nothing excites (or frustrates) her more than a blank page, fresh ball of yarn, or pile of foodstuffs - all waiting to be transformed into bits of deliciousness. Words are, and have always been, her way back home. She is a writer, artist, technical wizard, public speaker, witch, priestess, gluten free baker, time-bender, and COO who happens to possess a degree in Transpersonal & Somatic Psychology. She's a mama and grandma to a gaggle of wild girls who make her heart happy. When she's out in the business world she's figuring out how to make things faster, more efficient, and automating the hell out of sh*t. Shannon still believes in magic, craves the ocean like a land-locked mermaid, and dreams of a life without shoes.
I teach her how to speak moonlight. Allow her to hear stories born on currents of wind across the immensity of time. Show her small secret doors that transport her to places she could not even dream up.
Stability is a thing I have chased my whole life. Fell face first into the sinkhole of security. An elusive horse upon which no rider can remain seated.
Love comes wearing many guises. Not all of them are pretty. In fact, many of them are not. Because love is forever calling out to us, “Can you see me? Are you willing to know me when I am disheveled and unkempt?
Love, the slippers you shelter my feet inside as I wander your path. Ease patterns every garment you drape upon my body. Fear, you beat back with bamboo and spiky bramble.