This Ordinary Morning

I wake from a disturbing dream, bringing some of the burden with me, and feel the need to orient myself. It’s Thursday (though it feels like Monday after yesterday’s Canada Day holiday). The person in my dream hasn’t been in my life for decades. I have to go for blood work today. I listen to

I’m Weary

I’m so weary. Of all of it. And I feel guilty for my tiredness because there’s work left to do. There’s truth to be touted (after wading through the weeds to figure out which truth is the true truth). There are causes to support (after investigating to get to the root of said causes to


I must have known it at some point but the knowledge that the sun rises due east on only the spring and fall equinoxes and that now, as we approach the summer solstice it’s more northeast, faded. Watching the sun rise over the hill on the other side of the ridge this morning confuses me.


The world groans and I am weary under the weight of it. We are in the “in between”: the place of uncertainty where distraction tries to take us from our better work. I stand in my kitchen and look out the window, over the top of a new top-down-bottom-up blind, at a treed hilltop I’ve