Wanted: Bloggers

Imagine you wrote a blog post one day, then the next day you were dragged from your home and taken away. No fair trial, just gone. Maybe worse. Probably worse. That happens; it happens way too often. I figure, bloggers should look out for other bloggers. And so, I’m looking for folks interested in helping share a post about Amnesty’s Write-a-thon. You can pick a case you care about from this website, and I’ll send you some material to help showcase why writing letters matters so much.

Amnesty International is hosting a world wide letter writing event on December 10th. This is a day where thousands upon thousands upon thousand of people write letters on behalf of others who have sufferings that make my little stories look easy. I’m talking about being imprisoned for blogging, for tweeting an opinion, for daring to defend another’s right to express, and so much more.

’cause seriously, imagine if you could be jailed and flogged fro writing your thoughts in a blog post? Imagine that. Except that it’s almost impossible to truly imagine because it’s simply horrible, and thankfully many reading this post won’t live in that kind of world. If you’d like to help create change for those who do, let em know and I’ll give you the 411 on a post. Leave a comment, and I’ll message you to follow up.

Don’t have a blog? You can still sign up and write some letters. You can still tweet out about the event. You can still draw pictures for Zunar the cartoonist for Instagram. You can still do quite a bit  – and as a group, we can help create change.


That’s it from me. Thanks for reading my post. Have a lovely day :)


Going back to Canada

We are on our way back. After two amazing months here in Hungary, the working-holiday has come to its end. I’m both sad to be leaving Zsolt’s incredible family, anxious for the next set of scans, and massively excited for an upcoming opportunity I’ll tell you more about in September. So, let’s just say, I’m a big jumble of emotions. This is resulting in many naps today and a total lack of appetite. The packing needs to be finished, the room needs to be cleaned, and all I really want to do is sleep . . .

Sleep and share some pictures with you. :) This are from my instagram account.

As Zsolt says, it’s like we are starting all over again from scratch – for the third time. I would actually count it at four, considering England, but there you go. This time I have some wonderful things to look forward towards, as does Big Z, but it’s still hard. Leaving is always hard.


#NickArt #Pecs

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

Not happy to be leaving #Balaton.

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

#Balaton in Hungary

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

Digital age artist! And tea drinker, of course. ;)

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

#Pecs #Hungary

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

An effort of three generations to pick these peaches! :)

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

Love that in Balaton, every bod is a bikini bod.

A photo posted by Catherine (@catherinewrites) on

The First (and the only) Mindful Monday

I don’t ever do a mindful Monday, but a friend sent this quote to me the other day around blood, vibration and motherhood. She was at an event, and this passage was read, and it made her think of my novel, Claire Never Ending. (I’m quite honoured that she made such a wonderful connection). I read the passage and it made me think: DAMN THAT’S POWERFUL. Now it’s your turn to read it and feel your own response. I’ll link to the origin of the post below.

It is often said that the first sound we hear in the womb is our mother’s heartbeat. Actually, the first sound to vibrate our newly developed hearing apparatus is the pulse of our mother’s blood through her veins and arteries. We vibrate to that primordial rhythm even before we have ears to hear. Before we were conceived, we existed in part as an egg in our mother’s ovary. All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old fetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as an egg begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother’s womb and she in turn formed within the womb of her grandmother. We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother’s blood before she herself is born. And this pulse is the thread of blood that runs all the way back through the grandmothers to the first mother. We all share the blood of the first mother – we are truly children of one blood.

Layne Redmond

From When the Women were Drummers,
found on Gaiman Life

P.S. Did you ever consider how you originated in your grandmother? This is some literal linkage here! And the vibrating! I’ll say it’s the ripples of Claire, but you can call it whatever you like. :)