The spaces that hold us
With so much time at home this past year, I've developed an even greater reverence for what surrounds me. It's the space that holds it all, my memories and my unfolding experience. Every minute of every day it makes the space for me to live into.
A rediscovery and a new (old) poem
The older I get, the more I realise that life consists of repeatedly losing sight of myself and finding my way back, sometimes deliberately often seemingly by chance.
These are the good old days
Maybe it's a symptom of growing older and understanding the impermanence of life that I'm struggling more and more with letting go and with the feeling that I still have unfinished business.