Joma Films

01/01/2021

What a year. A full twelve, arduous months of pivots, exhaustion, tragedy, angst, joy, love and gratitudes.

Forcing us into resilience, compassion, and an acknowledgement of our extreme need for one another.

In the midst of the chaos and unreliability of business roll-coasters, unemployment, disease, and wildfires, and on the days I've wanted to explode, the only constant, grounding stability has been love, family, friends and community.

And maybe that's all there is or ever has been. The rest is an illusion.

It's the final day of 2020 and the final day of my 365 day blogging challenge. I did it. I can't quite believe it's over. I remember the utter panic the day I committed. It felt like today would be forever.

I've been doing "challenges" for almost three years now. I love the wrapper of a challenge. It allows novelty, structure, and excitement for something that otherwise might feel boring.

For 2021, I'll be doing 30 ten-day challenges, not necessarily consecutively. And most likely not publicly. I want to experiment with different categories of tasks and disciplines to see what it might take to make lasting impact and change in certain areas of my life.

As it did when I started the 30-week challenges and the 365 daily challenge, this new structure feels exciting, inspiring and hopeful.

Thank you for following along on my journey this year. I wish upon you blessings of love and hope and courage as we enter this new year. Together.

Signing off with thanks. And with love.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/signing-off-with-thanks/

31/12/2020

This "real-time" distribution case study started two years ago while we were in the final stages of editing Phoenix, Oregon.

The first year chronicled the April 2019 premiere and the Summer 2019 national release tour as we drove cross-country in an RV screening in 60 cities over 10 weeks.

In Fall 2019, we partnered with domestic, theatrical and foreign distributors and planned to release theatrically in the US on March 20.

In early March 2020, the pandemic shut down the country. We had to pivot to an online release. With few options available to us, we created our own streaming platform within a week. We showed the film online to audiences and shared revenues with theaters.

Our goal to reach profitability by the end of summer 2020 was dashed as the industry came to a standstill.

We found hope in working with partners - theaters, film festivals and non-profits. This may be the true way forward for an indie film now and into the future.

In June 2020, we released on all digital platforms - including iTunes and Amazon.

Our distributor is still working on an exclusive subscription deal for the next phase, and we continue to have foreign sales. We expect digital and foreign sales to continue into next year.

In September 2020, the town of Phoenix, Oregon, the movie's namesake, was burned in the Almeda fire and our team shifted efforts to fire relief. We distributed proceeds from online sales of the film and t-shirts to fire survivors.

As we begin 2021, we will continue streaming the film on our own platform and working with partners, as our distributors continue to sell the film and make new strategic deals within the industry.

I will give new updates as available, but for now, the real-time distribution case study will wrap up until we have new momentum or news. Thank you so much for following along these last two years!

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/real-time-distribution-case-study-end-of-2020/

30/12/2020

In 2020, my word of the year was Connect. This coming year, it is Space. Not the starry space. And not as Flannery laughed, "give me space."

But Space as in - Create Space for More.

I love projects, and in 2020, I took on many: a streaming service, the release of Phoenix, Oregon, a new house, fire relief, gardening, agency work, etc.

With each new project, my habit is to leave debris - a trail of tasks behind me. They are tasks I don't want to do, "wastes of time" left incomplete.

These tasks haunt me, bury me. I'm great at ignoring them, and indeed that makes some of them go away. But not all. Eventually someone will have to clean up. Either me or someone I hire.

So, this is the year for addressing and throwing off the blanket of left-over tasks.

And creating... Space.

For more.

I can barely see the "more" yet, there is so much brain clutter. But the more includes...

More love, fun, work. More family, friends, walks, hikes. More peace and energy.

More time.

I've always thought that boring tasks are time wasters, but I'm beginning to see that a little daily monotony may save time.

Ultimately, I want time for more new projects. My strength, my life force, is in projects. That's where I contribute, help people, reach out, make a difference, use my unique gifts. But I've buried myself.

The day after the fires, when I saw the need, one of my first thoughts was, I wish I had taken care of all this stuff (tasks, paperwork, wrap up, clean up, etc) so that I could fully commit to helping with the relief efforts. I had a huge sinking feeling that I couldn't. I did anyway. And things fell apart for awhile. I was rewarded in helping, but eventually I had to give it up to pick up the other pieces of my life.

So this year, I choose to give myself the gift of space. It will be a monumental challenge for me, one I've been putting off for years. One I hate to face in any given day or week. But the debris trails are so large now that I can no longer put it off. They have moved in to strangle me and show their demanding teeth.

My resentment and stubbornness is falling away. I've turned a baby step to face them. I believe they have something to teach me.

Something about being grounded and appreciative.

And choosing to live here, to be here. On this earth. Instead of escaping in every moment.

To slow down. To see and be.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/word-of-the-year-space/

28/12/2020

Usually, I choose a word of the year. It's a new year's resolution without the laundry list of tasks. A theme.

This year of covid, my word was Connect - which now feels ironic since we spent the year holed up in tiny offices peering at 13 inch flickering rectangles.

Somehow it worked though. And strangely, between Zoom and mini-blogs, I was brought a little closer to strangers - out of my private, turtle-shell.

I've worked from home for ten years - on the other end of conference calls. Hidden.

Zoom and covid unceremoniously crashed my introverted world.

For the first month, I felt invaded and irritated. While everyone else was lonely away from officemates, I found myself in an energy-sucking whirlwind of faces, outreach, and crowded meeting rooms.

After ten years of hiding on conference calls, I was, in an instant, required to "show up" to meetings. In person. On Zoom. With the video on.

It took me a good five months to focus without getting distracted and get used to the discomfort of staring at faces on screens without the ability to look away and keep my mind and hands busy with doodling, taking notes or playing online-bridges and bejeweled. I longed for calls where I could keep the video off.

After four months, I stepped out, created a paid account, and sent my first Zoom invite - something which at the beginning of the year, I swore I'd never do.

Ultimately, I've embraced video conferences. An hour to "connect" with a new (or old) friend is nice.

As for my 365 daily mini-blogs, they have become less stressful. While at the beginning of the year, they consumed most of my days with worry, dread, rerunning words in my head, wondering how they landed and planning the next - now I rarely spend more than 15-30 minutes writing or rethinking. I could apply more effort, and maybe they'd be "better", but that was never the point. The underlying goal was to be less scared, less hidden. In that, I've succeeded.

So maybe this strange year has allowed me to "connect" after all. To be vulnerable, to surrender, to allow discomfort, to show weakness, to make mistakes, to offer up imperfect words, to show up.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/word-of-the-year-recap-connect/

28/12/2020

Having almost completed my first 365 day challenge, the question that keeps pounding at my mind is this:

Now that I've shown myself I can commit, what is the one thing I could do every day that would most impact my life?

And impact my life towards what? My goals, love, care, family, relationships, growth?

Do I really know?

Was the blogging such a thing? Was its impact any more than showing myself I could keep a commitment?

Possibly not. And maybe that will be enough. It was a commitment to myself, not to anyone else, even though its public ex*****on increased accountability.

The private commitments which may truly impact my life this year will not be done in public and therefore will lack public accountability. But their impact may be greater for me personally and then possibly for others later once I've grown.

Wishing you all hope and progress in 2021 - towards your goals but especially towards love and joy in whatever shape that takes.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/commitments/

27/12/2020

Once Christmas is over, my mind immediately goes towards planning, hoping and dreaming for the new year. This last week always feels so quiet, restful and slow.

Last year, I had big plans and dreams. Most were upended. So much has changed, and I'm not sure what I've learned. I'm still in the middle. I can't wait to look back six or twelve months and see that I've changed, grown. But some days I worry that I'm becoming less resilient, more fragile, less wise.

When I was younger, I used to watch the faces of women and men in their 80s and 90s - the ones with laugh wrinkles, whose eyes still sparkled and whose chuckles came easily.

I'd wonder... what did they do, what choices did they make to still be smiling. Because even if life starts out easy, by the time a human is 80, they've seen tragedy and hardship. It's unavoidable.

But these smiling faces still choose joy and laughter. How?

Many days, I think of their faces and try to make choices to create laugh wrinkles and lasting chuckles.

It's been harder this year. Every day offers opportunities to practice, to decide which fork to take - towards joy or towards the alternatives.

♡ Annie
http://www.jomafilms.com/the-fork-towards-laughter/

26/12/2020

Today I feel joy and hope - despite the clouds of anxiety and caution which hang over our worlds.

We mostly unplugged, put away our phones, ate, told stories, shared gifts and laughed.

Connected.

With the people two feet from us.

For hours, not minutes.

It was good. And needed.

More of this please in 2021.

Merry joyous, Christmas to all.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/merry-christmas/

25/12/2020

Grateful today for friends and family. Those in my home, those I can only wave to from across the street, and those hours away who would usually be close.

Covid closes in. Friends of friends and friends of family have died or are very sick. We're careful but maybe not careful enough. Days like today, I feel like returning to the seriousness of March when the streets were a ghost town, we stocked up and stayed in for weeks, held our breath in the grocery store and saw no one.

We're so used to it now - the rhythm and routines, the masks and hurried shopping, heads turned, eyes down, moving cautiously through crowded stores, and giving extra eye-crinkles to show our masked smiles.

There's no helping it, but we seem to have gotten our cautious backwards. If only March could have borrowed some of December's knowledge and December could wear a little of March's fear. Maybe then we could hold it off.

The vaccine is coming. Soon. We're almost there.

But why does everyone I know... know someone... right before the finish line.

My heart aches. For them. For us, still living in uncertainty. Questioning our daily decisions.

Tonight we celebrated Christmas with all who live in our home. We are beyond lucky that this includes three generations. My parents and our daughter.

We are taking in every moment of Christmas joy and are so thankful for what we do have. Right now.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/now/

24/12/2020

As work wraps for the holidays, we naturally start to plan for and dream of next year. Trips, events, strategies, new films, career growth, and getting organized.

Phoenix, Oregon still has some life in it, and we'll see that through. Theatrical-At-Home is still chugging along with basically the same features and foundation as when it began in March 2020. It could use some dusting off, upgrades and automations.

After mostly remote work this year, we dream of being on set again. Gary will do some filming January through March for clients, I'll continue remote producing, and then later this year, maybe we'll get another project off the ground.

In the meantime, we're still moving into our new home, unpacking boxes, pruning, fixes gates and fences, and "getting organized" once and for all.

I feel apprehension and anxiety as 2021 barrels towards us - an internal war of cautious optimism and desire vs. dismay and exhaustion. Between hope this year's grief will end and fear that it won't.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/the-end-of-the-year/

23/12/2020

i remember...

santa claus

stomping in with a big ho-ho
boots sloughing snow
gloved hands wiping ice
from hat and beard

a huge red sack
slung over his back

seated in the corner chair
belly heavy and full
children gathered round
while he told the christmas story
and handed out gifts
to each of us by name

as quick as he came,
he'd be gone...
back to his reindeer he'd say

daddy, daddy did you see santa? he was here!
but dad had gone out for firewood
and just missed santa

such joy

those christmas eve parties
with laughter and friends
sparkling dishes and decorations
cookie trees and gingerbread houses

and santa

whose hands finally gave him away
when I was nine
curled up on his knee
waiting for my gift
listening to his story
holding his hand
the hand I knew
and loved

such joy
and generosity

his gift

it wasn't in the bag
slung over the shoulder

it was the hug
the gentle hand
the love

and my mother
wrangling the kids
creating the space
laughing and beaming
witnessing and orchestrating
the magic

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/christmas-joy/

22/12/2020

Spent an hour wrapping presents today for a Christmas toy drive for fire survivors.

I've been pretty disconnected from the larger fire relief efforts these last eight weeks while I've been in production.

I was so grateful and moved to see the hundreds of carefully wrapped gifts - bikes, scooters, games, books.

I saw friends who I haven't seen in weeks. Throughout the last four months, they have shown up to serve daily with kind, consistent, open hearts. They inspire and encourage me.

It's easy to enter that building and want to dive in again, full steam. There is still so much need, so much to do. Thankfully there is still strong, ongoing community support.

One lesson I learned in September and October is that it's better to commit to small tasks over a long period of time than to commit everything, burn out, and have to retract.

I certainly feel that urge to help again. But I have a full time job and can't be two places at once. It was understandable to throw ourselves in fully during those first few weeks of panic when everything was chaos. But this time, I'll take it slower - find ways to keep showing up for the long haul, even if only a few minutes here and there. To show consistent ongoing love and support. Not swoop in, then leave.

My heart is so in awe with love and gratitude for all the members of the community who give in small and big ways every day. There are so many of you. I feel your arms of love and generosity daily as we hold each other up. Thank you.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/long-term-consistency-vs-short-term-swoop-and-heave/

21/12/2020

This year started with hope and ends with hope.

The middle was filled with the ingredients of a witches brew - swirled, singed, and steaming. Angry and directionless.

My 365-day blog is still titled "Real-Time Distribution Case Study", but the percentage of posts on the film release have dropped well under 50%, replaced by covid and wildfires.

Our film, Phoenix, Oregon, is still finding a home. Distribution stalled because of covid and industry changes.

Our distributor is still seeking a subscription deal which they believe will happen in Q1 of the new year.

DVD sales are strong as our audience skews over 50.

Foreign sales are in progress.

Digital sales are continuing.

Everything is taking longer than expected, and we're not in the black. We're not sure if 2021 will see an uptick in sales, if the stall will continue, or if there will be new changes in distribution models.

The revenue stream that worked best was virtual screenings with partners. We may do more of that in the new year, but we've been focused on non-release work the last few months.

This case study is not wrapped up the way I hoped it would be at the end of this 365 day blog. We're still in the middle ground, and I'm not sure what is next.

I'll try to come back to this at some point in Q1 and give updates. I'd like to summarize the wins, challenges and lessons with the intention of helping other filmmakers. It's possible that even with the shifts, the learnings from this unique year may map to future projects.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/counting-down-to-2021/

20/12/2020

I'm experiencing extreme senioritis with respect to my daily blogging challenge.

I feel both sadness and intense procrastination, not wanting to write.

It's as if I've put myself two weeks into the future and believe I am already there. Sad and resistant. If I've already "finished", why do I need to write tonight?

But now is not tomorrow. And now I am still writing...

We hiked in the snowy woods today. There was a moment when I realized my head had been spinning for an hour, somewhere off in space. Not in today.

I opened my eyes and saw the view, the trees. I listened to the popping snow droplets falling from leaves - the only sound in the quiet snow besides the crow. And it was now. Now.

I'll try not to wish away these last less-than-two-weeks of 2020. Maybe I'll look back, recap, and recount the year, and maybe come to grasps with how a distribution case study was taken over by a personal, internal account of this baffling year.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/senioritis/

19/12/2020

It's Friday night in the Lundgren household, and we both just finished up 8 weeks of crazy production work all culminating with two live shows tonight. I hosted a show on Theatrical-At-Home, and Gary finished two weeks of all night editing with a live pre-solstice show.

Phew. Eight months of no paid work, followed by two months of insane work. I guess we didn't quite get the balance right this year. But then, who did...

I was just offered another job working over Christmas, but I've said no.

Instead, I agreed to work Sunday through Wednesday and then be done until the New Year.

It's so hard for me to say no. I feel like I'm letting people down. But if I said yes, I'd let my family down.

None of us have seen each other for much more than a half hour in the last month, and it's time to reconnect.
.. Starting with an all day snow-shoeing and ski adventure on Saturday.

We'll find muscles we didn't know we had - or at least ones we haven't needed at our Zoom desks.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/stretching-our-zoom-desk-muscles/

18/12/2020

We are so looking forward to Christmas break.

To lift our heads from computers and get outside.

Up to the mountains, to the snow and maybe to the beach where we haven't been in over a year.

Since our ten week tour last summer, we've barely ventured from home. Covid, jobs, school and a move have kept us planted. I love being home, but I'm ready to roam.

Especially with this family, where laughter reigns when we're removed from the confines of routines, deadlines, homework and edits.

Wishing some reprieve from the last ten months and a happy, joyful, restful, laughter-filled holiday break for all.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/wishing-all-a-laughter-filled-and-restful-holiday/

17/12/2020

Join our community tomorrow and Friday for a moving and impactful collection of stories and music told by survivors of the Almeda fires.

"The Things That Do Not Burn / Las Cosas Que No Se Queman"
https://theatricalathome.com/collections/hearth

Proceeds from this storytelling event will benefit the Rogue Valley Fire Relief Fund.

I am so proud and honored to offer my support and the Theatrical-At-Home platform for this event hosted by The Hearth and De La Raíz.

I've been able to listen to short clips from the stories this week as I've helped upload files and add subtitles. But I've avoided listening to any story in its entirety.

I want to curl up in my chair, with my family, and with my community through the ethernets...

And listen.

From the brief bits I've heard... yes, there will be shared sadness and mourning, but mostly, there will be hope, healing, togetherness, love, community and laughter.

And for the millionth time this year, in this midst of great grief and struggle, I will feel massive gratitude.

For resilience. Love. Hope. Life. Connection. Generosity.

For all of you.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/the-things-that-do-not-burn/

The Hearth and De La Raíz present stories and music by local residents affected by the Almeda fires. // The Hearth y De La Raíz están colaborando en un evento especial en línea que presenta historias y música de los residentes locales afectados por los incendios de Almeda. Click below to get ti...

16/12/2020

Only two weeks left in 2020. Can it be?

Do we get to be excited yet? Or will 2020 seep into 2021? Overflow?

Community.

That's what I keep thinking of now.

Despite online meetings, covid-hair, late-night screams, illness, fires, exhaustion and all the things that get us down...

What seeps is love. It oozes through cracks.

In us

In systems

In heartache

And prys us open

Hearts, eyes, ears

And community shows up at every turn

With gifts of time and resources

Poured out by strangers

My heart bursts

-

So get lost 2020.

Even in the grief you brought, goodness and love prevailed.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/community/

15/12/2020

This weekend Theatrical-At-Home is streaming a collection of stories and music by local residents affected by the Almeda fires. The event is hosted by The Hearth and De La Raíz.

Tickets can be pre-ordered here: https://theatricalathome.com/collections/hearth

I've been so happy to help my dear friends with this event by providing the streaming platform.

I'll post the link again as we get closer.

I have to admit that I am nervous as I see so many familiar names purchasing tickets.

Until now, I've been able to keep the platform relatively secret. Great business strategy...

Most people I know had already seen Phoenix, Oregon so didn't use the platform. New films and festivals brought in their own audiences.

While my friends know about the platform, mostly I've kept it separate from my regular life.

Now through a strange turn of events, nine months after I created it, many of my friends will be using the platform. I feel fairly confident, but it is definitely stretching my boundaries and comfort level.

It seems I've hacked the system this year. Tricked myself. Been public, but just barely. Blogged daily, but with limits. I don't go out of my way to increase readership or expand my platform. Instead, it's as if I've become private... in public.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/private-in-public/

14/12/2020

We had a beautiful day getting our Christmas tree, decorating, and curling up on the couch to watch the lights.

When I was little, we would bundle up, head to the hills, and trek through snow to find a tree. We were rewarded by mugs of hot chocolate to warm our hands and tummies.

Gary and I have tried almost every kind of tree - Bi-Mart parking lot, Boy Scouts, plastic, and hard-earned snow-hunted.

The last four years, we've found a tradition. The perfect compromise. A local tree farm, run by the kindest gentleman and his family.

We still get to choose and cut a tree, but we skip the half-mile trudge into the backcountry.

I'm not sure how my folks did it. As a kid, I loved our annual, snowy, tree hunt. But I wonder if I'm only remembering the good stuff. There must have been tears over icy fingers and frozen toes. There must have been arguments about the perfect tree and how far to search off the road.

Or maybe my parents were just excellent and persuasive adventurers, with just enough boundaries to keep us sane.

I'd bet that each beautiful, awe-invoking tree was no farther that the third row from the road and was harvested within no more than fifteen minutes. It must have only seemed like a glorious all-day adventure.

I'm just guessing... Or maybe we were all hardier back then.

Or maybe it was just that they never forgot the hot chocolate.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/never-forget-the-hot-chocolate/

13/12/2020

Definitely starting to contemplate the year and my 365 day blog challenge. What was it for? How will I feel when it's over? What did I learn, etc? I'm not ready to answer yet, but a few initial thoughts...

Habits take me a year not 28 days. No wonder!

I know myself better.

I'm less afraid of mistakes.

I will never love being public with my thoughts, but I no longer panic.

2021 will likely be private.

I worry I'll forget to blog in the last twenty days and ruin my streak.

Thought blurbs can be as valuable as lengthy blogs.

I'm clearer in my knowing and more confident in my expression of what's important to me.

When I started, I promised myself - as a criteria for agreeing to this challenge - that I wouldn't call anyone out, be mean, or express animosity in my posts. I've kept to this, and I'm grateful. For me, for my sensitive heart, this was the best decision. I've expressed dismay and grief for sure, but as in life, I aim to circle back to hope, love, generosity, resilience, gratitude and growth.

I know I'll be grateful for this year when I look back. That's so strange to say... I meant the blogging challenge, not the rest. But maybe when 2020 is many years in the rear-view, we'll also feel grateful for its tourniquet of upheaval, isolation, disorientation and change.

May it squeeze us towards our best...

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/looking-back-on-2020s-tourniquet-of-upheaval-the-daily-blog-challenge/

12/12/2020

I see why folks need case managers to walk through the fire relief process.

Today I spent a few hours on the phone with an agency tracking down information and getting forwarded to new numbers and voicemails.

Gratefully, I did get through to several incredibly kind people who shared their knowledge and put my friend on the appropriate list for housing.

Now as I review my notes, I can't quite remember the nuances of each conversation.

Not everyone had the most up-to-date information, and in some cases, I had to pry details, attempting to puzzle out the right next steps.

And now we wait - for the next phone call with news of available shelter and renewed conversation on eligibility, criteria, length of stay, and suitability. Nothing is guaranteed.

The survivors I've talked to recently are so exhausted. Their brains are sputtering as they manage full time jobs, survival, and months of navigating applications, phone calls, insurance, and agencies.

It really is too much for any one person to handle all on their own. There is not emotion, energy or time enough in a given week to complete all of the required tasks or to remember what is next.

I grieve now, not only for their losses of September 8, but for their crushing burden of working through recovery, especially now into the winter cold.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/the-crushing-burden-of-recovery/

11/12/2020

Many things to write about today - good things, hard things, family, work, fire things.

But instead I will dream of the mountains, the spring, lakes, and backpacking with friends.

Hikes into the hills, snow-shoeing, and the garlic coming up around the apple tree.

Post-covid concerts, dinners out with friends, and laughter around the Christmas tree.

Family, friends, and boisterous hearts.

The things we had and will have again. The love we still have now.

Now.

My heart is full. And sad. And happy. Content. And irritated. Distressed.

And mostly grateful.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/a-million-things/

10/12/2020

While some days feel all up hill, there are days like today when an agency's funding is renewed, and all registered households receive a flood of new cash gifts.

On these days, I am grateful and amazed at the generosity. There are people who do try to make things right and support those who are struggling, even though the overall system takes longer than it should, there are an unbelievable number of hoops to jump through, and requests get denied multiple times.

But some days in this country, there are benefactors, stimulus checks, unemployment, and surprise cash deposits for those in need. Those are the good days, filled with hope, when your efforts for just one family, one person, make you feel like maybe it will all be ok.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/maybe-it-will-be-ok/

09/12/2020

Crashing hard today, the let down of over a month of production. I still have all the wrap to do and a couple edits in post, but mostly things have settled down.

Somehow I just avoided taking on the filming of another last minute video - a five-camera fifteen-minute performance video with a one day edit and one day sound, color, mastering turn around. A recipe for several all nighters this weekend. My boss must have heard it in my lackluster voice, had mercy on me, and assigned another producer. In another week, this project might be a fun challenge but not yet...

For the rest of this week, I'll see if I can re-orient my brain to normal work days interspersed with work around the house and the garden.

But the screen addiction draws me in, tempting me to seek out new projects, new learnings.

Grounding, grounding, ground yourself. My mantra for the next two weeks.

♡ Annie

http://www.jomafilms.com/grounding-grounding-ground-yourself/