I’ve been dreaming up things I can do–and you too if you’re so inclined–to bring back more of the inner sparkle to these end-of-year days and nights.
Let this motion make new lines on the earth / from thunder and time to change and push
the rivers we live, the rivers we are.
We all have such moments when we commit to do something because we know it’s time, and then we move toward it on trembling legs and with shaking hearts.
The world is made of air, / and air, of dust, pain and joy.
It isn’t the distractions that keep us from the present but what we do with them.
My heart opens in a morning lake, reflecting the fire that comes.
Pack light, or if you’re like me, pack heavy but be willing to carry your own baggage.
The new world not conjured arrives here anyway, and over this sprawling tree of life, the stars.
The friendship stopped, and there was nothing I could do to jump start it.
How do we find the everyday goodness and reality of life amid big loss?