Inspirational Storytellers on Blog Talk Radio
Listen to internet radio with To Inspire on BlogTalkRadioArticles About The Path
My Other Sites
Archives
-
Recent Posts
Twitter Updates
- RT @monicabeer1: Photo taken at the right time🦒☁️ https://t.co/Sjr9qiVjuv 3 weeks ago
- RT @BetteMidler: #AmandaMcBroom, who wrote “The Rose”, just sent me this…. https://t.co/kiRWpSADAd 3 weeks ago
- RT @JenniferWarters: Happy Thanksgiving to my American Friends. Painting by @NancyWait from Brooklyn https://t.co/HY10oki9rm 1 month ago
- RT @HeroesToday: "Your deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevo… 2 months ago
- RT @splitendedpoem: A most beautiful thing: an artist in France fills holes in sidewalks with mosaics. He is known as the "paving surgeon"… 2 months ago
Tag Archives: inner awareness
Hearing Bells
In days of old when we sat in awe around the lighted tree, my father told us that if we heard a bell ringing, it meant an angel was present. We had to be very quiet, and then unbeknownst to … Continue reading
Posted in Memoir
Tagged angels and bells, autobiography, Christmas, frequencies, hearing on the inner plane, inner awareness, magic, Nancy Wait
Leave a comment
Aligning with Enchantment
The man and the bear are drinking Amstel Light, which to me meant, I’m-still-light. I drank in the fact that I was still light. I gave it to the man to share with the bear. Continue reading
Connections Never Die
Dedicated to the one who once drew me, and I drew back, in my drawings… Continue reading
On Seeking
The search began when I sat at this desk one morning in 1976… Continue reading
Posted in ART, Memoir, Uncategorized
Tagged Art, art and feeling, expression, inner awareness, memoir, Nancy Wait, painting, seeking, soul memories, the nancy who drew, writing
2 Comments
To Look Within
I write my life to know my life. When I write my life, the inner truth comes out. It’s like when I draw, a barrier disappears. Or fades to the background. And suddenly I’m in touch with this other vibratory field. This other awareness that rises to the surface and makes itself known. Continue reading
The Truth About Acting
What I learned as an actor should be shouted from the rooftops by every single one of us who has ever trod the boards – that along with the heartbreak that so often comes with a life in the theater, comes the knowledge that we all have in us the possibility of every human thought that has ever been considered. We don’t have to act on it, but we can act it. Play it. Because we know how to play. We know how to imagine “what if.” Continue reading
Letting It Come Through
I can now paint and draw small, sketchbook-size pictures of the world around me because now I see how focusing on the small particulars of the outer visible world, can also reflect a deeper insight to the world within. Continue reading
Posted in ART, Art of the Path, Memoir
Tagged Art, Brooklyn, creativity, drawing, expression, inner awareness, memoir, Nancy Wait, painting, Park Slope drawings, soul memories, the nancy who drew
2 Comments
The Cabin in the Clearing
Whenever I looked out the window I saw two scenes, the one from the present, and this other one, so obviously from the past. From Brooklyn as it once was. Continue reading
Posted in ART, Memoir
Tagged alternate reality, Art, art and feeling, bridging worlds, Brooklyn, consciousness, creativity, drawing, expression, inner awareness, memoir, Nancy Wait, Park Slope, soul memories, the nancy who drew
Leave a comment
The Thing Is To Draw…
Who the figure was doesn’t matter. She was, and is, Ma, Mary, Mater. Mamm and Ama, Muder and Moeder, Mati and Moer, Madre and Mai and Mama. And in Vietnamese, she is called Me. But what’s in a name… The thing is to draw. To paint. To feel. And to paint and draw what you feel. In the moment. Expressing what you cannot say in words… Continue reading
The Earrings
It was a tiny shop. There was no one there but a woman in a sari standing behind the glass counter. She smiled at me as I came in. Or rather, her face lit up, causing me to wonder if I had been the only customer that day. I smiled back. She wasn’t young, somewhere in her forties I would have thought. Her long sleek black hair fell in a thick braid down her back. I pointed to the earrings in the window and asked if she could bring them in for me to see. Continue reading
Nancy Wait ~ Artist, Writer, Radio Host 