Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

January 31, 2019

I don't know the secret to being brave--I wish I did. But from my limited experience, it involves a great deal of not thinking, the tiniest bit of planning, and an enormous amount of kinetic energy.

The potential is there--we just have to step off the edge and let our beautiful, capable hearts to take it from there.

January 30, 2019

Sometimes the night seems made for catastrophic thinking, but if we can get some sleep--even a little--things are brighter, they shift, in the morning. Sometimes, true, only marginally so, but there's a pocket of paranoia and of panic that only exists in the deep night. Blessedly, most times it turns us out in the morning as if to say, 'See? You've seen the worst--now go and be grateful.'

Maybe that's all it wants--a little gratitude for its boot camp-style preparedness tactics. Either way, after these nights, it's with more heart that we welcome the light.

January 29, 2019

It's not instinctual anymore, self-love. Maybe it was, at one point, if we were very lucky and had a good and loving childhood, but that so quickly falls away in the world. But I don't see why we can't reclaim it, why we couldn't speak more slowly, more sincerely, and with more kindness than our mind's relentless undercutting. 

Eventually, I do hope that we'd believe the soft, still voice that's been telling us all along just how lovely we are. 

January 28, 2019

We are already perfect and we should not only ask for happiness, for completeness, but we should expect it. That's what I'm trying to relearn. I'm trying to remember that every thought makes a difference, whether in healing or in destroying ourselves. I have to believe we can (re)make our reality. 

Monday seems a good place to start.

January 25, 2019

How long have you been settling? How long have you been squinting at the text, protesting that yes, yes, this light is sufficient? And when did "sufficient" become good enough? When did "sufficient" become the end point, the goal? 

Well. I don't quite know how to go about it, but I'm pretty sick of "sufficient," of settling. I'm pretty tired of squinting at the text, making out every other word, and calling that good enough, calling that a life.

January 24, 2019

There is such harmony here, the more we can breathe together, sing together, laugh together. I was just thinking the other day that I have no idea how long it's been since I really laughed--the gasping for air, tear producing kind of laughter. Years, maybe. And that is such a loss, because I think it's indicative of the weight of the times in which we live. Laughter is generally a group activity, and I don't see many of us with energy to spare these days.

So it seems to me that we ought to make that kind of energy a priority around here--more music, more laughter, and ease off the heaviness anywhere we can. We ought to be here for more than our own survival.

January 23, 2019

Every road we take, we take for a reason, a reason that seemed the sanest, safest, or most exciting option at the time.

Hindsight is more curse than blessing, so perhaps it's best to shove that gift to the side for a bit and consider this: every road runs both ways--you can always come back.

But what if you gave it just a bit more time--just enough to see what lies around the corner up ahead? Just to see how the landscape changes with the seasons?

January 22, 2019

When we restrict our own growth, unintentionally, by habit, we don't realize how constricted, how constrained we've become. We don't realize how much we've inadvertently crippled ourselves, cramming our feet into routines whose purpose we've long forgotten. 

So. Isn't about time for a transplant? And if all that space feels frightening at first, no matter--it's space we'll soon grow into.

January 18, 2019

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

~Mary Oliver

I can't tell you how many of the most painful moments in my life were buoyed by the poetry of Mary Oliver. I can't tell you how many of the happiest moments, most revealing moments of my life were spent reading her poetry. She inspired me to write in the first place, and she inspires me to get up and write every morning. 

I am so grateful. She will be so very missed.

January 17, 2019

You can tell your story in any way that feels true to you. And if nothing feels true? Tell it in a way that makes you the hero of your own life--stronger, braver, cleverer than you give yourself credit for. There is magic here, there must be. There is so much power in words and so much destruction in the way we talk to ourselves. 

Surely we owe these sweet bodies the benefit of the doubt.

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This Quiet Earth