a list kind of day.

1. bagels for breakfast. the good-french-dense-chewy kind.
2. the heat of the summer, the way it slows me down like molasses.
3. remembering how much i love Justin Rutledge’s No Never Alone album. 7 years old and never sounded so good.
4. en masse felting with a brave, if somewhat reluctant, group of women.
5. warm wind and beach glass and waves crashing against shoreline.
6. clothesline weather.
7. heart shaped pebbles and driftwood logs that makes my heart ache.
8. brave on the rocks.
9. summer skirts.
10. devilled eggs on the back deck. decaf coffee in the grass. gratitude.

early in the morning, when the church bells toll

1. orchestra of song birds singing the sun up outside my bedroom window

2. sad news on morning radio

3. the stillness of a dark room



and this is how it works

(i came across these lyrics scrawled in an old journal today. i still love them as much as i did the first time i heard them.)



And this is how it works

you’re young until you’re not

you love until you don’t

you try until you can’t

you laugh until you cry

you cry until you laugh

and everyone must breathe

until their dying breath.

And this is how it works

you peer inside yourself

you take the things you like

then try to love the things you took

then you take that love you made

and stick it into someone else’s heart

pumping someone else’s blood.

and walking arm in arm

you hope it don’t get harmed

but even if it does

you just do it all again.

– Regina Spektor, On The Radio


sometimes you’ve just got to say it



there are a million reasons to be proud of my family. i don’t write about them much because they’re a bashful bunch and i’m a private sort of bird. but sometimes you’ve just got to say it.

i’m blessed to keep company and bloodline with the finest bunch of people i know. they are each, in their own way, beautiful, creative, and full of heart. we all have large tear ducts and strong bones. we were born of deep roots and taught to live with eyes wide open. we are learning, always, still, but we love with a ferocity that is not to be questioned.

we have watched each other take big risks in the name of things that matter. from parents down through to youngest child, i think we’ve all come to believe in the value of taking chances. we’ve never been rich, but we sure know how to dream.

today this music video came out.

the lead singer is one gem of a man who also makes for one hell of a big brother. the release of this video is one part of him living his dream. and i couldn’t be more proud.

i think it is always an honor to see anyone in this life pour their heart into what they love. when you get to witness that in your own family, in the lives of those you love the most, it just makes the joy that much sweeter.


spent a lot of time…

palm full of pebbles

palm full of pebbles

it’s Sunday evening, winding down. i’m sipping on some tea brew that has chocolate and mint in it, and it’s going down smooth. Amos Lee has been crooning around this nook for the last few weeks, and this song more than any of the others gets put on regular repeat. tonight is no exception.

there’s granola, still warm, sitting on the stove. the kitchen table is strewn with shrunken sweaters. i’m practicing the art of making good stuff come from what i’ve already got. stop looking for more when chances are, all i need is already right here. easier said than done sometimes. the grass is always greener…you know. yeah, we know.

there have been thresholds crossed this week. days dreaded, days anticipated, days survived. there have been long walks in all sorts of weather. there have been sweet moments and sad moments. there has been creation…there has been letting go. there has been the tender joy of a little babe; laughter of old friends; silence of celebrations no longer shared. there have been moments of honesty in the produce aisle, the barbers chair, the neighbourhood diner, the kitchen table.  there has been snow and sun and ice and rain and wind so powerful it all but took my breath away.

and what does any of this have to do with a blackbird and a studio and a woman wandering her way through what it means to make art, to be an artist? i ask myself that sometimes. even though i always know that i already know the answer. it has everything to do with everything.

i’ve got a palm full of pebbles. bits of things, scavenged shards. beaten down by waves and wind and time. mountains in the small of my hand.

i’ve learned a lot. i’ve really learned a lot. broken down on the bedroom floor… nobody told me that living was easy, but i’m not living in fear anymore.

peace for the journey, little birds. may we all keep finding ways to make something good come from what we’ve got. may we each have the patience to watch the mountains become pebbles in our hands…


ways to make the cold nights warmer

Idea No 1.

remember a moment when the whole world felt alive



Idea No. 2.

listen to some music that helps settle you in your bones. when that song finishes,  listen to some more.

Idea No. 3.

find a story to take you somewhere.

“I was once telling stories to a group of seven-year-olds, and when the program was almost over one little boy hollered exultantly, “Never finish!” Perhaps this is the whispered, peek-a-boo truth of stories: life ends and stories, too; but stories end in their own good time and with as much “working around” as the teller can fashion, and even in the silence afterwards they are able to keep speaking to us. Stories let us hear the footsteps of our own transformation coming towards us on the pathway of everyday life. We learn from our stories how to dream, tell and remember beyond our own ending, and this may be as close as we can get to never finishing.”

– Dan Yashinsky, from Suddenly They Heard Footsteps


Crabbuckits and itchy bones

there’s always a million reasons to say no.

excuses are plentiful. strong arguments for why-not-to aren’t hard to come by. few will blame me if i just don’t bother.

it’s easier, you know…


what if i just said yes this time?

what if i dropped the excuses? focused energy on why i should, why i could, what good would come if i did? where would i be if i just stepped out and went for it?

life is short, you know…


it was tuesday night. i’d spent the day rolling dough and pouring coffee in the darling village bakery. i had a looming deadline of an art show fast approaching and nothing prepared. i had things i could be doing. you know – stuff. important stuff. practical stuff. stuff stuff.

there’s a tightness that comes with cold weather sinking in. and a weight to some of my days as of late. and, well, some tension/tiredness/ache from a rollercoaster year of living. yeah…there’s a pocketful of reasons for my body to be tired. and somedays i let that tiredness win. i pull out the excuses and my list of why not to, and i settle into the weariness and steep there.

tiredness and to do lists. you know?

but it was tuesday night. and life was feeling too short. and my shoulders were feeling like i’d been carrying it all around for too long. and i didn’t want to do lists. i didn’t even want tiredness. i just wanted to dance.


my bones were just itching to move. like they were fed up with being dragged around and wanted to let loose and stretch out and show me what they were made of. tired of being tired, i just wanted to feel really alive.

what if i just said yes this time?

yes to moving and laughing and stretching and relaxing and playing and forgetting and remembering and breathing…and living.

just say yes, girl.

so i did.

and on tuesday night, after a long day, i found myself on a dance floor with a dear friend, letting loose and letting go and finding my breath and feeling my heart (race, not break)…and i laughed and smiled and felt full of life…

there’s a million reasons to say no.

but life is short, you know…

the tuesday night dance soundtrack

k-os dancin' man

k-os dancin' man

sunday in 5 parts.

1. slow morning rising…poached eggs, pot of tea, perfectly ripe pear.

2. Over the Rhine on repeat. again.

3. all these words unwritten, unsaid.

4. needle felting in good company while the rain hit the window and the sky fell dark.

5. Tom Waits while thoughts wander, bones settle.


song for a rainy saturday


i haven’t posted a saturday song on here in a while, but this rainy saturday sky seems to call for one.

yesterday, on a whim, i stopped in my favorite little record shop here in town just to see what i might find. within the first few minutes of being there i found a jackpot of Townes Van Zandt , which was the best treasure i could have hoped for. and the timing couldn’t have been better – Townes will make the stretch of rainy days ahead so much more bearable.

so here\’s a favorite of mine, to help sing us through the grey skies.

may good things grow today.

the failure keeps us humble and leads us closer to peace.

Pic (65)

thanks to my sweet friend amy for sharing this song with me the other day.

it’s the kind that needs to be shared.

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Words + Photos + Credit

Unless otherwise noted, all original photography and text are property of Raechelle Kennedy. If you see or read something here and feel inspired to share it somehow, please be considerate and give the artist (me!) credit, or even better, drop me a note and make sure I don’t mind.
Thank you!

Here + There

Secondhand Sainthood and the gift of losing it all – Topology Magazine, December 2015

Ten Things Made – Topology Magazine, December 2015