Mindful Everyday I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for — to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world — to instruct myself over and over in joy, and
Outside my kitchen window, the surprise brightness of a crescent moon high in the east gives me pause in my morning coffee making routine, and I whisper an involuntary “oh!”. Later, with my hands wrapped around a warm mug, I stand at the living room window and look to the east to see what kind
We were without electricity for a good chunk of the weekend. On Saturday and Sunday from 9 - 5, the power was off in our neighborhood for some planned work being done by BC Hydro. We anticipate the same next weekend. Other than having to go to the bathroom in the dark (with a tiny
In my laundry room, in tiny pots fashioned into greenhouses by way of plastic wrap and a heat mat, the first spindly tendrils of tomato plants reach up from the soil. If I were to gently pull one from the soil, I’d find the start of whisper-thin roots. Buds on the lilac bush in our
I peer out the window over top of the blind in the den and see a cul de sac bathed in light. It’s not the artificial light of streetlights, (They’re off. I’ve never been able to figure out the schedule they operate on.) but the ethereal glow of moonlight. I knew the moon was full
There’s a lot of loud distracting and drowning out. But I’m convinced by wisdom clothed in stillness. The kind of truth found hiding in plain sight in ordinary things and extraordinary moments. A word in season. Eye contact. The scrape of a paring knife on a potato. A pile of peels. A man standing at a
I’m feeling a little overextended. Sounds odd, because I’m home more often than not, but the connected world we live in means it’s possible to have a full-ish plate without even venturing out. I say “full-ish” because what feels heavy to me might be nothing to someone else. And that’s okay. We’re allowed to be
I’m joining in with a group of writers for Five Minute Friday where we’re given a prompt (this week it’s SUNRISE) and write for five minutes about it. Sequestered, as I am at this time of year, under a Sherpa blanket and with a sleeping Yorkie on my lap here in the den with its south-facing
Once upon a time, not so very long ago (though it seems like a lifetime has passed), it was a simple thing to drive down the hill from the neighbourhood where we live, turn into the strip mall, pick up a few sundries from the pharmacy, and stop in at the grocery store for a couple
Yesterday was my birthday, but we don’t make a big fuss about birthdays around here. “It’s just another day,” I say every year. When I was very young, I felt a certain glow on my birthday, but I’ve had enough of them by now that the sheen has worn off the occasion. There are still
For a time I watched the moon. Rising, as is my practice, in the wee hours, I stood at the window on a succession of days when the night sky was clear, and grounded myself in its movement and crescent shape that was thinner every day. The cacophony of the world at large, silent. The