Tag: love
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One wild and precious life
As I sit down to my 2026 desk, it’s hard not to notice the sentimental feelings of new beginnings that come with the new year. I know that these feels will slowly melt away into the ordered schedule of the daily, monthly, yearly routine. However, even if it’s for these first few words that I…
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First frost…
There was a frost last weekend. It was as if to say, ‘OK, Halloween is over- now comes Winter’. Although for me, specifically, it seemed to acknowledge something else. It spoke to a deep learning that was precipitated by a moment in which I froze in the headlights of needing to perform. I know, I…
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The good, the bad and the ugly
I am not sure about you, but sometimes my social media feed becomes a space for either validating or challenging what it is that I need to hear in any given moment. It’s kind of like shaking one of those old magic 8 balls to see whether I should proceed with the current plan, love…
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Resting in the afterglow
Two weeks ago my brother arrived at the cabin, marking a period of action-packed visits. There have been sing a longs, fishing trips, long paddles, camping and plenty of connection time with family and dear friends. Today is the day that the last of the visitors take to the road, leaving behind my love- soaked…
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Turning the ship
My husband Graeme was a clever man. Both as an intellect and as a contemplative. While we both taught mindfulness, he used to claim that I was the ‘better’ mindfulness practitioner. In all reality, he was like an anchor for me. He had an uncanny way of putting things into perspective, whenever I became lost.…
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This is to mother you
This past weekend, my daughter was complaining about a sore back. In her complaint, she asked me to make a doctor’s appointment for her. To which I reminded her that she was nearly twenty two and perhaps it was time that she makes her own doctor’s appointment. She laughed and replied that she was tired…
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Home is where the heart is
Whenever I think of the phrase ‘home is where the heart is’, I see a handstitched needlepoint in a wooden frame hanging on a wall in my grandmother’s house. The word ‘home’, almost like a beating heart, yearningly calling us all in for some of her warm, soft love. Perhaps, this is what Maya Angelou…
My Silent Place 