Life is not a straight line. It's a downpour of gifts, please – hold out your hand
Deb - thank you.
Truly deep and lovely.
I so appreciate your words and presence here, Judie. Thank you for taking the time to connect.
What a lovely poem, Julia. The end of this poem feels like a gentle echo reverberating in my heart—a reminder to slow down, to loosen that white knuckled grip that feels all too familiar. I love that you have found your final refrain, “It is nowhere but here,” in bird song. I have found myself becoming more and more tuned into the birds over the last few years. Their song reaches through the stress and worry demanding my attention; it slows my fast-paced step and softens my furrowed brow. It places me in the center of each moment, and opens me to the beauties therein. It places my fingers upon the pulse that longs to be heard beneath all the noise—the steady pulse of my own heart. Thank you for your lovely words on this blog and in Sprout Magazine. Your words are so beautiful and healing.
Dear Jenna. Your words and thoughts have filled me up this morning. Just when I was starting to feel some heaviness creep in, these words from you came, and some of that heavy lifted. Such divine timing. It really is nowhere but here. This is something I know but need to be constantly and continuously reminded of. Thank you so much for taking the time to leave your words here - such a gift for my day.
Are those crepe myrtle buds? Those are my favorite.Such a lovely poem for spring. New life and a new direction--that's where this poem takes me.
Hi Karin. :) It's red flowering currant. I love hearing where this takes you. New life/new direction sounds just right - perfect time of year for some freshness.Thank you for stopping by. <3
Such a wonderful reminder. It is in slowing down that I find myself, find patience, find the true me in there.
What are you thinking/feeling? I'd really love to know...♥ Julia
My Heart Can't Contain It All
Letting Go of Good
41 Days of YES-ing
I Am Noticing
Simply Say YES
Stepping Out of Our Boxes
On Being Vulnerable