When your big, slender hand slips into mine, joy spills through me. I soak it up like a new sponge, resisting the urge to squeeze. You’re a young man of eighteen, soon to graduate high…
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All at once, our February days in South Dakota feel almost like springtime, with bright sunshine and breezy temperatures in the forties. Birdsong swells at dawn as cardinals, finches, chickadees, and nuthatches tune up for…
Here I am, on retreat again. One year has elapsed since the Muse woke me up on retreat in San Diego, delivering For the Sake of One We Love and Are Losing. At the time, I felt…
‘You and I are mail carriers from a world of light. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night will stay us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds.”
One secret of gardening: you can’t rush what can’t be rushed. We need to respect our place in the scheme of things, as uncomfortable as that may be.
A night hike reveals how magical the world appears in varied shades of black; how, without light, our senses team up to safely navigate; how profound ignorance of what’s coming next forces us to pay close attention to every step we take.
A rather light-hearted list of 45 silver linings I’ve found in the clouds of my pandemic isolation.
As a nation, we’re tired of being in this pandemic mess. Some of us want—even need—our children to return physically to school. Others of us can’t bear the thought of it. How do we come together?
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