In a world that often demands constant hustle and unrelenting strength, Lisa Hurley’s debut book, Space to Exhale: A Handbook for Curating a Soft, Centered, Serene Life (May 6, 2025), is nothing short of revolutionary.
"Underdrive", what an exquisite term! I would love to include this word and this work in my newsletter this week. It's about the Resolution of Less is More. I will link this post and the Amazon site for Lisa's book. Thank you for introducing me to this author! I look forward to reading more!
In a world veiled in darkness, my grandmother found her light in the tactile whispers of point print. Her eyes may have betrayed her at three months old, but her spirit was as sighted as ever. The Bible and books that filled her days were not defined by their heft or the thickness of their pages, but by the life they breathed into her through their raised dots-a language of touch, a precursor of Braille.
Her slate and stylus were her instruments of correspondence, a bridge between her world and that of her blind friends. With each letter she crafted, her thoughts were etched into existence, her words tangible in a world she could only hear and feel.
Her books would rest on her lap, a foundation of knowledge and faith as solid as the earth. Her fingers, nimble and sure, would dance across the pages, a ballet of sensation and understanding. The dots beneath her touch would rise to meet her, eager to share their secrets and stories.
I remember the sound of her rich and warm voice as she read aloud. It was a melody that resonated with wisdom and resilience, a testimony to her ability to navigate a world that was not built for her. Her dexterity was a marvel, her fingers moving with a grace that belied their age.
Those books, the stylus, the slate-they were more than mere objects. They are the legacy of a woman who refused to be defined by her limitations, and who embraced the world with hands wide open. They are cherished not only for what they are but for what they represent: the indomitable will of my grandmother who saw more clearly with her heart than most do with their eyes.
Roxie, whose name echoed within the walls of our home, was a beacon of resilience and grace. Blindness never dimmed her spirit; it only sharpened her other senses, transforming other daily chores into a display of her remarkable capabilities. Roxie's domain was the heart of our household kitchen, where she reigned with gentle authority and an unerring touch.
As our dishwasher, Roxie's fingers were like whispers over porcelain, detecting and erasing the slightest imperfection. Plates and utensils gleamed under her meticulous care; each one emerging from her hands as if they were new. It was a dance of fingertips and water, a silent symphony played out on ceramic and metal.
She performed the snapping of green beans with a surgeon's precision. Each bean was a conversation between her fingers and the vegetable's hidden strings. She would hold the snapped pieces to her cheek, a gesture as tender as a mother's touch, ensuring not a single string remained to mar the perfection of her task.
Shelling peas was a task she cherished, a moment of peace in the rhythm of the day. The pea pods would yield to her deft fingers, splitting open to reveal their hidden treasures. The bowl would fill, each pea a testament to her skill, and the sound of the shells parting was a familiar refrain in the melody of our family life.
Grandma Roxie, as we fondly called her, was more than just a member of our family. She was a symbol of unwavering strength, a reminder that the human spirit can adapt and thrive. Her legacy is etched not only in the well-worn pages of her point print books but in the very essence of our home. She is unforgettable, a cherished memory that continues to inspire and guide us.
This is proudly my memories of a grand blind lady who greatly influenced my life and character.
Beautiful title! Love this... "Curating a Soft, Centered, Serene Life" That in itself is meditative 🙏☺️
Thanks so much!! ☺️🙏🏾
"Underdrive", what an exquisite term! I would love to include this word and this work in my newsletter this week. It's about the Resolution of Less is More. I will link this post and the Amazon site for Lisa's book. Thank you for introducing me to this author! I look forward to reading more!
So glad to hear that it resonated for you! Always happy to share.
Diamond, thanks so much for this wonderful opportunity, and for amplifying my work. Honored to have been interviewed! ☺️🙏🏾
So happy to feature you. Appreciate you Lisa. 🙏
ROXIE, MY BLIND GRANDMOTHER
In a world veiled in darkness, my grandmother found her light in the tactile whispers of point print. Her eyes may have betrayed her at three months old, but her spirit was as sighted as ever. The Bible and books that filled her days were not defined by their heft or the thickness of their pages, but by the life they breathed into her through their raised dots-a language of touch, a precursor of Braille.
Her slate and stylus were her instruments of correspondence, a bridge between her world and that of her blind friends. With each letter she crafted, her thoughts were etched into existence, her words tangible in a world she could only hear and feel.
Her books would rest on her lap, a foundation of knowledge and faith as solid as the earth. Her fingers, nimble and sure, would dance across the pages, a ballet of sensation and understanding. The dots beneath her touch would rise to meet her, eager to share their secrets and stories.
I remember the sound of her rich and warm voice as she read aloud. It was a melody that resonated with wisdom and resilience, a testimony to her ability to navigate a world that was not built for her. Her dexterity was a marvel, her fingers moving with a grace that belied their age.
Those books, the stylus, the slate-they were more than mere objects. They are the legacy of a woman who refused to be defined by her limitations, and who embraced the world with hands wide open. They are cherished not only for what they are but for what they represent: the indomitable will of my grandmother who saw more clearly with her heart than most do with their eyes.
Roxie, whose name echoed within the walls of our home, was a beacon of resilience and grace. Blindness never dimmed her spirit; it only sharpened her other senses, transforming other daily chores into a display of her remarkable capabilities. Roxie's domain was the heart of our household kitchen, where she reigned with gentle authority and an unerring touch.
As our dishwasher, Roxie's fingers were like whispers over porcelain, detecting and erasing the slightest imperfection. Plates and utensils gleamed under her meticulous care; each one emerging from her hands as if they were new. It was a dance of fingertips and water, a silent symphony played out on ceramic and metal.
She performed the snapping of green beans with a surgeon's precision. Each bean was a conversation between her fingers and the vegetable's hidden strings. She would hold the snapped pieces to her cheek, a gesture as tender as a mother's touch, ensuring not a single string remained to mar the perfection of her task.
Shelling peas was a task she cherished, a moment of peace in the rhythm of the day. The pea pods would yield to her deft fingers, splitting open to reveal their hidden treasures. The bowl would fill, each pea a testament to her skill, and the sound of the shells parting was a familiar refrain in the melody of our family life.
Grandma Roxie, as we fondly called her, was more than just a member of our family. She was a symbol of unwavering strength, a reminder that the human spirit can adapt and thrive. Her legacy is etched not only in the well-worn pages of her point print books but in the very essence of our home. She is unforgettable, a cherished memory that continues to inspire and guide us.
This is proudly my memories of a grand blind lady who greatly influenced my life and character.
Her grandson:
peppermiller3011@gmail.com