Thursday, April 16


I'm really falling in love with taking classes.
Drinking in all the knowledge and learning new skills.

This week I finished a 3 part class on electroforming. 

I'm calling these ones "The Teeth Breakers." 

♥ Carin

Wednesday, April 15

Softening Within the Stretch

I find myself in this place for many reasons.
I've chosen this life, but it also chose me.

My ability to push myself. 
To drive forward.
To learn.
It's the mode of transportation that got me here.
I set the destination, but this ability drove the way.

I now know, this is something unique and special.
I have used it to get to this beautiful place.
A place where I can make with my own two hands.
Where I can create day in and day out.

But this, this is not always a gift.

For the past week or so, I've shut down the torch at the end of the day empty handed.
I turn off the lights and close the door tight behind me in hopes of forgetting the frustrations of the day.

I submerge myself in family.
In conversation about anything but the studio.
I play games with my son.

Yesterday was the worst.
I left the studio feeling broken.
The lowest of lows.

Working on a project that is so outside my comfort zone brings so much frustration.
So much self doubt.

Searching for answers, I came across something magical.

"My advice to you is to soften into the discomfort. Accept it. Know that it's gifting you growth, fuel, and grit.  Whatever it may be that you're claiming this year as your desire and dream, I wish you the comfort within the discomfort. The stillness within the unease. The softening within the stretch. And mostly, I wish you the match that lights and revives the fire to keep you going. Because you can. Keep going."

And it was just what I needed.

And so today, I took a step back. 
I realized that I do have walls and limits. 

We all do.

But they are not permanent.
These boundaries can move, but with slow gentle pushes.
Deep breaths and mindful movements.

It's how I got here, and it's how I'll get to the next level and the next.

I'll never be stagnant. 
It's not in me.

But I will be good to myself along the way.
Keeping my body and spirit in mind.

I won't ask myself to do too much.
But also not too little.

And I hope you do too.

shop here.

♥ Carin

Monday, April 6

Because of Lemons

A year ago, I sat knees tucked tightly underneath me, forehead to the floor, balled up tight and rocking ever so softly back and forth.
The news that he was gone sliced through me like a razor sharp knife. 
The fresh wound bleeding a river of tears.

As we laid him to rest, I remember just hoping time would somehow move faster. Wishing I could put some distance between the loss and find time for my wound to heal. 

I really thought that the next year would bring answers. 
Answers to so many questions swirling in my head. 

At the time, I remember asking myself the how's and the why's of it all.
How it happened.
What his day was like.
Maybe I felt like if I could paint a clear picture I would somehow come to understand it all. 

But in these 365 days I haven't answered any of these questions. 
Sure I know a little more, but ultimately I stopped trying to find the answers. I think the questions somehow grew to seem superficial to me.
Maybe I realized even those answers weren't enough.

In their place, much bigger questions took root.
Things like, why does sadness even exist?
Why are we capable of feeling it? 
Why does sadness matter?

I really believe everything has a purpose. 
Nothing in this world is a waste. Every moment has meaning, at least if we let it.

So what is the purpose of sadness and grief? 
What is the purpose of feeling so bad?

As we approached the anniversary, this has really been weighing heavy on my mind.

And I keep pondering this....


If we had never experienced that sharp piercing bite and had nothing to compare it to, would a juicy ripe peach seem dull and bland? 

I'm not here to down play the sadness. 
There are days when my body, my mind, and my heart need it.
Sadness is a part of life, but if in some way we can recognize something positive or even create something positive from something so tragic, does it give the lemon more meaning?
Does it now have purpose?

Without sadness in our lives, it's easy to perceive the daily goodness as dull and boring. It's easy to only see the negatives in our life and drowned out the positives.

Loss and sadness can add perspective.
Allow us to see how wonderful we really have it.
How grateful we should be for every day life, and how we shouldn't take it for granted.

The doldrums of daily life tastes as sweet as a fresh, ripe, fragrant peach on a hot summer's day, after you've had a bit of life's bitter lemons. 

So go on friends, look up from your sadness, and see what life has to offer.


Carefully textured hand sawed sterling bi-layered peach.
Etched sexy cursive lettering.
Wire wrapped lemony yellow quartz.
Lovely bar chain.

♥ Carin

Thursday, April 2


Maybe this is the story of my life.
Maybe it's the story of the salmon.
Maybe it's both.

I say I've lived in this magical place my whole life.
A place where the snowy mountains meet the sea. 
Where the trees create a landscape so green and so thick it's hard to see past it.

To be honest, growing up, I wanted nothing more than to leave. 
At the time, this place felt too small for the gigantic dreams I wanted to fill. I felt suffocated and trapped.

As a young adult, I only saw what this place couldn't offer and none of what it could.
I saw it's downfalls and little potential.
Mostly, I think my body had changed and so had my heart.
I was no longer that little fry that needed the protection offered by the stream.
I was ready to explore. 

I first tried the luscious views of Upstate New York. I landed as the golden deciduous trees were dropping their leaves. 
Almost as far away from this home as possible, I was eager to adventure. 
I wanted to see who I was away from everything I had known. 
I was ready to test my crazy thoughts and theories on the unsuspecting world. 

New York was beautiful.
This is really where I fell in love with hiking.
Gushing waterfalls.
I tasted it all.

And for a moment I felt happy.
I was happy.

The space, that's what I needed at the time.
To explore.
To experience.
A new adult in a massive ocean.

I left the Atlantic, only a few years later to find myself again in the North Pacific,
but this time in Alaska.
A place as gorgeous, if not more than home. 
The land full of texture and color.
Spewing life from every pore. 
I saw majestic white belugas dancing their way through the Cook Inlet.
I played on ice cold blue glaciers.

And to this day I will tell you that I long to go back to where the spit extends a mile from the land. Narrow as ever, just enough land to call it a place. 
Saltwater surrounding you, but where it misses, the gap is filled in by snow capped peaks. 
Halibut a story tall, hung up and ready for eating. 
Homer, AK is in my heart.

But all these sights I've seen. 
Places I've lived.
Memories I've made.
They were never home.

The moment I leave this place, the Pacific Northwest, and step out on a new land, may it be long term or even for a short trip, I immediately feel called home.
My body feels unsettled, almost visibly shaky. 
Something is out of place, 
I am out of place.
My mind often wanders, and I find it thinking about home.

I guess that's how I know. 

Funny how understanding works sometimes, learning by trial and error.
You spend your whole life experiencing where you don't belong, only to realize all you needed you had all along. 
Where you started.
Where it all began.

And so, like a spawning salmon answering a call from within.

Not a conscious thought, but rather something deeper.
A story written on their DNA. Bound to happen because of who they are.
Just like the chum, returning to the stream to spawn, I return home.

And when my feet are firmly planted on this ground, gone away is the restlessness.
In it's place a calming sense of peace.
A huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
Home brings an overwhelming sense of belonging.

And now, when I look up and see that glorious mountain peeking over the horizon, I believe it's mine.
And in return, I am it's.
We belong together. 

The same for my ocean.
The same for my home.


These pieces were dreamt up while I was away.
They were sketched and the ideas solidified while I was on a plane soaring towards home.
They were forged right where I belong.

An understanding of exploration.
A gift of belonging.
A celebration of home. 

Shop here.

♥ Carin