Tag: writing
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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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Quietude
One of my favourite times of the day is the early morning in which I surrender into quietude, or what the Cambridge dictionary calls a state of calm and peacefulness. This is especially true during December as we approach the solstice. Usually at this time of year, I feel a pull between the noise of…
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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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Lost and found
For quite some time now, I have been inspired by a beautiful poem written by David Wagoner called “Lost”. This past week I discovered that Wagoner based his poem on a traditional teaching given by Indigenous elders in the Pacific Northwest (U.S.A.). The story goes that a child asks an elder what to do if…
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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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The cure for apathy
Watching the news this past week should have come with a trigger warning. Just as I was settling down to a Friday night of relaxing TV, live news coverage rolled in. Rather than feeling an ease into the weekend, the politics of our day activated a sense of shock, disgust, anger and ultimately a sadness…
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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…
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My Silent Place
I remember the first time that I read Wendell Berry’s poem “How to be a Poet”. Now, I am not a poet, at all. However, I do love poetry and words that remind me what it means to be human. That is exactly what, I feel, this poem does. It reminds me what it means…
My Silent Place 