Just yesterday, I was saying how much I love this big, old tree in my backyard, and how I’ve learned from it to let go of things that don’t serve me. This afternoon, I heard a massive crunching noise, and sure enough, it had dropped an enormous limb.

I really hope this tree doesn’t go into freefall and completely come down. Maybe it was just clearing house for the fall?

In the poem, When Great Trees Fall, Maya Angelou said, “When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety…They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.”

Breathe This In



Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity be lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of God.

John O’Donohue, For Equilibrium, a Blessing
To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

The Guest House


Sunroom 006

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

– Jelaluddin Rumi. Translation by Coleman Barks

Nexus of Nebulas



This dress of flesh, vested with my essence
comprised of skin, synapse, and sinew,
isn’t meant to be some random receptacle
of ennui, contempt, regret.
We are not the sum total of what life has thrown at us.
We are more than all the pain of the past.
Once you let go, you’ll be amazed: life can regenerate.
We can stand at the Intersection of Everything.
At the Nexus of Nebulas.
We can stare into the sun and see the vast expanse before us
or we can look back at the dark matter and say it cannot be.
So what do you lose if you try one more time?
Walk with me, wherever you are. You’ll never pass this way again.



Being a person of faith is a tough gig in a world such as this one.

Church leaders turn a blind eye to abuses.
Shepherds fleece their flocks.
Bigotry and back-biting run rampant.

But there are still so many good people doing the right thing.

Some of them are atheists, some are Muslims, some are gay.
All trying to raise their kids, do their jobs, pay the bills.

My minister isn’t an old man with vestments and a scepter.
It’s that little boy who defended his albino brother from bullies.

It’s the painfully old lady carefully pulling her ancient sedan
into two parking spaces at the grocery store.
Waiting in the car in the sweltering summer heat
sits an even older lady with sunglasses covering her whole tiny face.

It’s me, carrying my dog out into the yard for one last try,
even though she’s on palliative care and her literal last legs.
It’s me again, alone at the vet’s office, signing papers
to take away my own best friend.

There for each other.
There when nobody’s watching.
There but for the grace of God.

Small Wonders by Lori Strawn


Just felt the need to post this beautiful prayer by my writing partner, Lori Strawn. Along with Sue Bradford Edwards, we write about faith and positivity on our blog, praypower4today. This prayer – or Prayable, as we called them on that gig – is my all-time favorite. Enjoy!

Small Wonders

I praise You for the tiny glories
I am often too busy to see:
the irregular scallop of a maple leaf,
the impossible yellow of a dandelion,
the perfection of untrammeled snow.

For the scrap of sunlight the cat finds
in the darkened hallway,
I thank You.

For each sudden splendor:
the tickle of grass,
the dizzying dome of sky after rain,
the cozy smell of someone I love,
I exalt You.
Your beauty bursts my heart.