Inspiration, Photographs, Quotes, Writing



“When we feel cut adrift, it is often because our unacknowledged wishes are crying for our attention and we are turning a deaf ear. At such times we need to take pen to the page and listen to the voices within us that want further expression in our lives. We must make our unconscious conscious. We must allow these voices to help us grid our growth or we will grow helter-skelter and not in directions that give us the soul satisfaction that we crave.”

~Julia Cameron, from The Sound of Paper

Anxiety, Life, Mental Health, Poetry from The Well

Disordered Trust

Symptoms include sputtering breath

and high winds behind the eyes.

Possibility of sudden dizziness

and eyes blurring at the sight of memories.

High risk of forgetting the graceful sheet

of stars and moon above the clouds.

May coincide with severe boredom

and perceived inability to move the limbs.

Treatment consists of forgetting yourself

and tending to the rest of the garden.

Common side effects involve a flip flopping heart

and the desire to fold back into oneself.

For help please solicit the love of everyone

needed to calibrate the mind.


Exploring, Hiking, Life, Photographs

Autumn Walk

The trees have grown naked quickly this fall. But still there are splashes of bright reds and oranges that glow warmly beneath the evening sun.

IMG_1827There is a peaceful stirring energy in the woods as dusk sets in, when bats begin to swoop and owls blink the sleep from their eyes.

IMG_1834As nightfall arrives sooner and sooner, we have the chance to squeeze more out of fewer hours, bundling up and moving through the vital air, letting go of the tension in our minds. IMG_1839

If you will welcome in the clean air, the woods will gladly merge living space with living space.

Life, Poetry from The Well

Everything’s a Gift

Between the racks move muttering moms

and pleading kids.

Crouching low the helpers pull out shirts and hangers

stuffed in the wrong rack, wrong department,

forgotten in the face of a better price

or wave of guilt.

On her tip toes a helper wrangles and lifts down

a milkwhite mannequin man, one hand under his

crotch and the other squeezing his smooth ankle.

A stoic fleshy man needs those pants in that size, please.

Across the store two teens have slipped into a fitting room

trying each other on for size.

A boy sits on the edge of a table, his arm draped across

a stack of cashmere sweaters, crying patiently.

His mother is lost in the Levi’s, comforting someone on the phone.

The new girl carefully steers her feet down the aisles,

blisters growing bigger by the hour.

It’s the first day of the Christmas soundtrack.

Everything, everything’s a gift.