Finding fresh ways to write timeless truth.
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
It’s no secret: I’ve struggled this year, and in recent months the battle has almost overwhelmed. I wrote on my blog yesterday how I felt like I have failed Advent and someone who played a pivotal role in my messed up life decades ago, and who remains a dear friend of my heart, sent me
Today is Tuesday, December 22. We are days away from Christmas and a piece of me feels like I failed Advent. Hope. Peace. Joy. Love. Can I honestly say I’ve leaned in to these things as I intended? Have I lingered in the longing? Or has it been more of a stumbling tumbling season of grasping
Now it is December. I think I should write something encouraging in these darkening days, but come up empty. I don’t want to wear a mask here, so I speak of the barrenness and trust I’m not alone in the wilderness. I don’t have three steps to find happiness, five ideas to streamline this season, seven