Thursday, August 13, 2015


photographs by Adelaide Shalhope
'the ghost of frozen raspberries' 

Do not try to make anything.
Be present.
Allow what IS to appear.
Witness your relationship with what IS.
Be present.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

I'm Trying

Where do we think we are going when we try so hard?
What if we relaxed, rested our minds and our bodies for a little while and let the softness of our own hearts lead the way?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Step In

Sit quietly.
Gently and slowly find your own breath.
Step in.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

You Can Only Get There From Here

You Can Only Get There From Here
Adelaide Shalhope 2015
mixed media

You say you want to make something? 
Something Big. Something Bold. Something Great.
Tear up a piece of paper and toss it on the floor. 
Look at it.
Notice its shape, its texture, how it scattered when it landed.
Begin here.

Friday, February 20, 2015

The Breath of the Moon

photo: Adelaide Shalhope

 my feet upon the earth
my heart towards the heavens
i listen to the breath of the moon

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

I'm Still Here

Buried deep within the snowy drifts of your own thoughts
Simply waiting for you to notice.
I'm still here.

Thursday, October 16, 2014


Clearing the bottom garden. photo by Adelaide Shalhope

This notion made it's way into my mind several weeks ago as I was clearing away years and years worth of undergrowth and overgrowth in the large bottom garden of the home where I now live with my husband. It's a labour of love as it's his family home and on a beautiful site just along the river Endrick, in Scotland. It has been, and continues to be, however, lots of hard work.

It's work, though, that I so enjoy. I get to put on my grubbiest gardening clothes, spend time in the fresh air, and use serious tools. Secateurs! Bushman's saw! Pick axe! Never in my life would I have imagined my joy at sawing off a tree limb or cutting and pulling out so much overgrown hedge that my hands and arms ached for days.

How lovely it is after all the toil to stand under an old Hawthorn previously covered with tangled overgrown privet, and to feel the Apple tree breathe. How satisfying to have opened up the view to the other side of the river not seen in years.

We need these clearings. We need them not just for our gardens but for our places and spaces, our emotions -- our minds, for they open us up and make us available.

Sometimes the task is daunting. We've let years of things accumulate be they weeds in the garden, personal possessions, thought patterns, habits. The work can be difficult for us but that, too, is part of the process.

We put on our work clothes, gather the necessary tools, and begin to clear. It's a labour of love.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Small Poems From Inside the Studio

photos by Adelaide Shalhope 2014
paint, ink, and a little printmaking in its simplest form.