There is a theme that has been playing over and over throughout my life. Helpless and voiceless.

The first beginning, coming out of sleep. The second beginning, settling down for meditation. The third beginning, the crystal bowl.

A book caught my eye yesterday as I gazed in that in-between space in early dawn. It was a subtle nudge I’ve learned to pay attention to.

I feel softened on the inside, seeking comforting beauty. I deserve to pause and remember I am worthy of flowers. I bloom with abandon.

Many blessings are still with me from my trip to Ireland. It's where I fell in love with black birds. I talk to them. There's trust.

Discerning is a skill I practice every day. I forget to take from what I give and I’m left with a hollowness needing solace.

Nothing is static. We live in an illusion of stability. Everything is changing. Including us.

As a member of Spiritual Directors’ International, I participated in a Native American Spirituality workshop. The messages were profound.

With open arms I welcome Spring with the newness, the color and warmth. Inspiration offers an overall dose of good. So I made a decision.

I’ve adapted to the pandemic, masks and distances, living with the uncertainties. Nature is the steady guiding hand.

We live our lives doing the best we can, seeking love and acceptance, finding guidance and direction. Fear divides us.

Sunrise is a magical time. The birds know it. They stretch their wings, sing songs, celebrate. The earth says wake up there

I was lost in my search. Anywhere I looked I was turned away, disappointed, disrespected and rejected. I wore out my excuses.

I have lost my ability to sing. I wonder if my tender emotions have been part of it. So I went on a retreat to learn to love myself.

Every time I ignore the knock knock, my reservoir empties more. But I found a way to ground by doing forest bathing.