Maybe it’s because I turned seventy-five a few weeks ago. Maybe it’s because Don retired a few days ago. Whatever the reason, I am on the hunt for more fun. I wonder… Do adults even have permission to be playful? Angeles Arrien, eminent cultural anthropologist, clarified what it takes to live a spirited life. She […]
My bare feet search for one step after another. Minutes ago, I was snug in my bed next to Don. Something awoke me. I head downstairs to the family room where I meditate and journal in the morning. The sky is dark at 5 AM. I step into the family room and am struck by
My eyes slide over photos as I flip through my iPad library. Like minutes on a clock, these images measure the passage of time. Faces of loved ones, age before my eyes. Granddaughters go from girls to young women. Still others, like Don’s parents, disappear from recent family gatherings. I wonder, “What will 2019 bring?”
Lately, I have been cooking a lot. Don and I have moved to plant-based eating. My kitchen is full of vegetables and new cookbooks. Cooking had become routine and boring to me. Now I am excited to make new recipes. There are many reasons for this choice, staying well and the health of the planet
Purple asters and bronze-colored mums dot my garden. Crimson leaves have begun to cover the burning bush. Hosta leaves are outlined in a crispy brown. Chilly air, less sunlight, the aroma of cinnamon and the appearance of pumpkins on porches are sure signs that autumn has arrived. Quiet settles over me. It whispers. “Listen, it
When we slow down and begin to listen, we can become aware of a deeper longing. Maybe some place inside of you wants to… Create a play Meditate more Change jobs Write a book Retire Or? Our Guest Blogger, Maureen Glass, wrote this piece last week while attending the Taos Retreat. She touches on how
A blur of jump rope passes by my eyes and then slaps the pavement. The girls holding the ends of the rope start the counting rhyme. “Down in the valley where the green grass grows, there sat Nancy sweet as a rose, along came Johnny and kissed her on the cheek. How many kisses did
Steam rises as my iron glides back-and-forth on the blue napkin. The scent of damp cotton warmed by the iron’s heat floats up in a stream of steam along with childhood memories of watching my mother iron. She taught me. I was eager to learn. Pillowcases and napkins were the easiest to manage so that
Bags of food and supplies gather in the kitchen as I pack up for the spring retreat. There is a gathering energy in me also. Visions of entering a sacred space with a handful of women fill me. I wonder, “What are they feeling as they ready themselves for this journey?” We will move deeper
What’s that? I ask. Don barely looks up from his newspaper as he answers. “I don’t know. This house is making all kinds of noise lately.” Sunday mornings are normally quiet. The rustle of newspaper pages and a gurgling coffee pot are the only sounds we hear. On this Sunday morning, an unfamiliar knocking grabs
