Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

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?

December 26, 2018

We don't need to annihilate everything--every indiscretion, every mistake, every awkward moment, every regret--in order to begin a new day, a new calendar year. 

On the contrary--the skeletons of our past are a lovely landscape feature. We are gardeners in this life, and what's left to go to seed has value, aesthetic and nutritive.

All of it will, eventually, get raked into the compost, feeding whatever it is that's coming next. 

December 18, 2018

Once again, petals, in the interest of rest, I leave the commentary to you. Hopefully I'll be back in fighting form tomorrow. 

Until then--love, love!

July 3, 2018

I don't know the way an better than anyone else, and I probably get lost more often than not. I can read a map, even if I can rarely remember where I've been. 

But I'll tell you this--when my heart calls out a direction, I take it, and I orient from there.

June 27, 2018

In the moments when we can't get a clear view of our surroundings, the answer is almost always to slow down--one's pace, one's breath, one's mind. Only when we can take in what's around us without including ourselves in the picture, then perspective, if not a plan of action, follows. 

Indecision, panic, and anxiety are self-centered conditions, meaning that with the gaze turned inward--that limited space inward--a way out, a solution, is almost impossible to come across. But when we take ourselves outside of ourselves--get an aerial view, so to speak--we see where we are in space. We see how blessedly small we are, and we see--in the vast reaches of our landscape--just how many possibilities there are open to us. 

June 25, 2018

Petals--don't let them bring you down. Don't let them, just because they're seemingly immortal, fueled by hatred and bigotry, fear and privilege, make you question yourself, your mission, or your right to your place in this world. You are a creature of light and your powers far outweigh theirs. 

We are in this for the long game. Them? They're here for the sprint. 

Run on.  

June 4, 2018

We recognize home, even if we've never been there--a description in a book. a photograph happened upon, a detour while traveling. So often, we stumble upon what becomes home. 

Sometimes we're lucky enough to be born where we'll thrive.

Sometimes it takes an entire lifetime of such stumbles, finally, to settle. 

May 31, 2018

We are not separate from anything, yet we are entirely unique to everything. Does that give us special compensation to do as we please when we please? Of course not. We may be an integral part of this system, but we know damn well (or should know, anyway) that it can get on just fine without us. 

But, at our best, at our most hopeful, at our most joyous, we are a delightful and necessary addition to the radiance of the world. We are makers and creators, caretakers and admirers. We are the audience and the actors. Our delight in this world is what makes the bloom and the decay so heartrendingly beautiful and these brief lives so very poignant. 

So go on with your sweet self--keep the heart open, the eyes open, and delight in every moment you can. That delight is as necessary to peace, as necessary to harmony as any laying down of arms and stepping back from the line. 

May 30, 2018

I don't think it counts as dangerous or wishful thinking to change where you stand in order to shift your view. We are sensory creatures, after all, and if a glimpse of sky, of water has the power to change our day, then why not a different take on our particular you-are-here moment? 

It's not about sticking one's head in the sand. On the contrary--it's about yanking it out, blinking away the grit, and looking around for a view from which we can take stock, weigh options--or do nothing at all--in peace and maybe a little joy.

March 31, 2017

I'll be the first to admit I don't look up when I walk, and I'll also be the first to admit that I miss so much that way. 

You see, I have to stop if I want to look around, and usually I don't like to stop. 

I think there's a whole world of lessons right there.

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