by lori | Feb 9, 2016 | Here and now, Love, Poetry
blades of green bend low and breathe in damp, the misted seaside glows, fog yellow gray among planked houses, sunlight slants across the field, racing tree shadows tumbling down and softly yield those dry spots are deer footprints strong and hesitant tenderly picking... by lori | Sep 6, 2013 | Stillness, Wayfinding, Writing
I’m at Office Nomads coworking space today, joining others for an hour of “free writing time.” We came together, shut off the email, the Internet, the phone, and the iPad to just write. The folks at the table around me haven’t been finding enough time in their days to... by lori | Jan 3, 2013 | Love, Poetry
We sleep on the floor in the living room with you When you can no longer use The stairs up to bed We hold your head and feed you When the disease spins lies to your brain Saying that eating is a bad idea We stop time together Putting the world on... by lori | Apr 11, 2012 | Benefits, Community, Story
Monday evening I decided to go on an unannounced neighborhood Walkabout. I actually planned just to go from the backyard to the front yard, but a squirrel caught my eye and before you know it I was at our corner store. At this point, I was kind of freaked out, I’m... by lori | Oct 4, 2011 | Benefits, Learning as, Recognizing
My self-organizing community gives me so much, so freely, that often my personal humanity-sippy-cup runneth (no wait, tippeth) over. I live within this community, as this community. And it is because of this community—real human people and groups and ideas—that I can...