Wednesday, May 27, 2026

How To Do Absolutely Nothing

I confess, this would be a challenge for me...
No walking shoes? Lordy! Would barefoot shoes be acceptable?
And there's this...who's Barbara Kingsolver (I love her)
to tell us how to do nothing?  I can sit in my living room and do that.
I suspect you have your own methods?
She does make a point, though...
"Don't take your rechargeables" for example,
I find myself reaching for mine way too often.
I like to be connected to other humans.  
At the same time, enjoying my own company
is an activity I'd like to hone. 
Emphasis on enjoying.
My take away from this is,
can I step away from justifying myself?
Can I be complete and comfortable as is?







 

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

What Do You Bring To The Table?

This quote struck me hard in a good way.
It was a while back that a couple men and I 
were discussing what would happen if we 
bought an island somewhere...or went off the grid.
They began discussing what each of them
"brought to the table".
Medical expertise, technical expertise,
mechanical know how, carpentry skills...those sorts of things.
Sitting there listening I felt myself shrink
from lack of anything significant to bring to the table.
Reading this shifted that entire tableau around
and I am grateful.
"I am the damn table."

PS: Could not find a human name to provide attribution.







 

Monday, May 25, 2026

Happiness

"How far away is your happiness?"
How close?
These are rich questions to ask ourself.
It might be good to add our own to the list.

How many meals prepared by you or others?
How many seeds planted, bushes pruned, trees grown?
How many walks along the river and through the forest?
How many friends discovered? 
How many trips taken?
How many books read and/or written?
How many hugs given and received?

"How much thread in the enormous 
sewing machine of the present moment?"
My favorite line.
Think how small those stitches are...
but what magic they can create...
what fine garments they produce...
to wrap around yourself and your dear ones.



 


 

Sunday, May 24, 2026

It's Ok If You Crave

I love the gentle pace of this piece.

"expand into the world and then contract:
this is the way of everything soft: ..."

I can feel the rhythm of the ocean 
and match my breathing to the ebbing and flowing.

Sending goodness your way.



 

Thursday, May 21, 2026

You'll Become Rain


"And nature says no matter how you love,
you will return back 
to this holy sacred thing.
One day, you'll become rain."

What a delight to have such an abundance of rain,
with more to come.
A beautiful way to end this dry spell
as we enter the last weekend of May.

I bow my head to all those returning as rain as we
commemorate Memorial Day.





 

Wednesday, May 20, 2026

The Things I Know

"Even a dead tree casts a shadow...leaves fall...branches break...
bark peels off slowly...trunk cracks...rain seeps in through the cracks...
trunk falls...moss covers it...[creatures} live safely inside..
I would say that the trunk decays providing food,
habitat, and atmosphere for countless creatures to thrive...
slowly dissolving into the earth where new trees and plants
are born and live because of its remains.

"So that nothing is wasted in nature or in love."
The trick for me is to translate 
even the hardest happenings into the language of love.
Even when it feels impossible...
love is never weak...it is the strongest power we have.




 

Tuesday, May 19, 2026

Lost

"Stand Still. The Forest knows where you are.
You must let it find you."
Everyone who loves the forest knows this in their bones.
A wordless connection happens.

"The forest breathes.  Listen. It answers,
'I have made this place around you. 
If you leave, you may come back again, 
saying Here.'"
This is why it is heart breaking when
forests are removed.  

Stand still...is the strongest message I hear.
Letting the forest find me...knowing I am not lost...
I am Here, with the trees and bushes 
and creatures of the forest.  
It's subtle and powerful.

On a recent trip in and out of Asheville, I had a window seat.  
Watching out the window on my return
I was dazzled by the vista of nothing but trees
below me.  As far as I could see appeared to 
be unbroken forest.  It was so breathtaking,
I felt like crying from the wonder of it. 
"If you leave, you may come back again, 
saying Here."
I'm so grateful to be here.