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Sorting boxes of photos and keepsakes means we are finally doing what we have avoided for decades. A pandemic offers a perfect opportunity. Don carries the boxes up from the basement. Now our family’s story spreads across the dining room table and part of the family room. Birth announcements, letters I wrote from Spain are
Daring Muse Encounters is a workshop I am leading right now. We use art and writing to invite our muse to enter. Once again, we see how a focus on creative process awakens us. Why? Creativity connects us to the unfolding Mystery of life. Make things! Make art. Bake apples. Knit
Light is returning. Ok, I know it is slow. During the bright days of summer, we barely notice that daylight is leaving minute by minute. It begins slipping away June 20th at summer solstice. Slowly, almost imperceptibly our days become shorter. Then we shift to daylight savings time in autumn and darkness envelopes us. Now
My path from fridge, to stove, to counter repeats more times than I care to count. Peeling, chopping and sautéing as I prepare favorite holiday foods. Christmas music and the tree’s piney scent fill the air. I hear Don‘s car. He’s back from O’Hare where he gathered Wes, Deb, Elly, and Lilly. Deb and her
I am learning to notice… Goldfinch’s changing colors Moon’s phases Magnolia’s blossoms Noticing them connects me to Deep Time. Time that is not measured in minutes but in moments. Deep Time reflects patterns that are not counted on a clock’s face but on the white faces of stars. When we experience awe and wonder we
“Breaking News” pulls us from one crisis to another. Our inner clock begins to race at a chaotic pace. But we can recall other rhythms. Rhythms that return us to a primal pulse connecting us to deeper inner knowing. We can choose to let Mother Nature shows us her way of marking time. Moon cycles
A perfect red-tailed hawk feather lays at my feet. I can’t believe my eyes. A prayer of sorts, escapes my lips. “Thank you!” Red-tailed hawks have flown through our yard for years. I have seen them in the distance. They circle. Dive down. Grab prey. Fly away. Their auburn feathers aglow in sunlight. This is
I carefully twist the soft tie around the aluminum frame and tender tomato branch. These tiny tomatoes will need support as they grow red, ripe, and ready to pick. I tend to them and notice where they require more support. These are my first ever homegrown tomatoes. I hover over them like a new mom
My hands are in the dirt. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud and warms the top of my head. The birds sing and chatter in the nearby trees. Seedlings sway in a gentle breeze. I smell the sweet smell of roses as I weed around them. It is 72°. This is a perfect
4:57 AM. I’m wide awake. Today I’m writing my blog. Waiting until the last minute is my typical pattern. Today is different. I search for answers and understanding. Our country’s racial wounds are on my mind as thousands take to the streets to protest. My heart is broken by all the pain I see. How
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