The wind swirls as its taunts hit the weathered wood. The hail throttles the walls that hold her in and is a thunder in her heart.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The wind swirls as its taunts hit the weathered wood. The hail throttles the walls that hold her in and is a thunder in her heart.
Read MoreThe last two years I have been in turmoil over purpose, and it has been a tumultuous ride of undulating ups and downs. All the implications of “purpose” led me down roads of losing myself in an effort to understand who I was. But the pot of gold that you might think lay at the…
Read MoreEvery year I look forward to the passage from winter to spring. This year I hardly noticed it. During this year’s transition month, I was admitted to the hospital three times, each time sicker than the last. Surgery was the last option but the eventual outcome. Then ICU, then complications, and then, finally, I was…
Read More“Begin in a place in your soul’s landscape…” I receive Heather’s invitation through my computer screen, which feels like a familiar mode of interaction after five weeks of sheltering-at-home. Twenty-five faces seem to stare at me from a grid of rectangles, so I close my eyes and repeat Heather’s invitation…my soul’s landscape.
Read MoreThese days, more often than not, I get to the end of a day feeling like the day ran me, not the other way around. The digital clock on my phone clicks to 10:47 pm; I do a double take, and then I throw myself on my bed. Remaining moments tick away as I open…
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