cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
November is here, reintroducing us to the holiday season. Thanksgiving has such a meaningful way of inviting us to slow down and remember the previous year. Remember. Remember your moments. Remember your feelings. Remember your stories that framed this year. Remember one another. Remember you.
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November is here, and we have upon us another year, another holiday season. Coming into this season, my heart is tender and yet free and filled with love. Much has changed from the first year I created a list, yet there is a comforting familiarity to the remembering that this holiday provokes within me. Remember.…
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Am I where I’m supposed to be? Do I have the inner strength, gentleness, and wisdom to venture out once again into the unknown?
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It’s early. The morning light still feels cold with sharp lines cutting between sun and shadow. I open the blinds and catch the sunrise climbing over the power lines and trees. With its light, I breathe in a sense of possibility as I turn to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. And then…
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November is here, and once again, we approach the holiday season. This year brings opportunities that have been missing during the previous twenty-something months. Opportunities that invite us to engage with our whole selves, dysfunction and all.
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On days when I’m reminded that life is a gift and not a right, gratitude feels strong and interwoven, like burlap. It holds all my hopes; hopes that are indelibly entwined with my battle with a chronic illness. Gratitude’s texture is thick and coarse, its fabric worn and heavy, having survived years of sweaty, hot…
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Fire dances across turquoise rocks while two young boys stare at orange flames. Tranquil breeze changes the direction of the fire and I watch as their curiosity turns from the fire to one another and they begin laughing while quoting lines. For a moment, gratitude fills my heart and I divert my eyes from their…
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I had run out of ideas of how to get through the chaos that was building so that we could help the children learn. I wanted to quit and felt like a complete failure. My principal, though, was wise and kind. She listened intently, saw both my despair and my goodness, and simply responded,
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The grass is always greener. The grass is always greener on the other side. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
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One of the sessions I attended at a recent conference was about resilience and optimism. The presenter said it was once believed that resilience was an inherited quality, but we now know that resiliency skills can be taught. As she spoke, different life events came to mind, some I had not thought of for many…
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