by lori | Jul 24, 2018 | Culture, Essays, Found-Object, Gratitude, Here and now, Play and Magic, Poetry, Stillness, Strength in Real Life, Wayfinding, Writing
I had a gallbladder attack—a tall, dark gallstone and I passed a wild night in the emergency room—last November. I’ve been slowly healing with an unhappy gallbladder ever since. Now here in July, just two weeks ago, facing unexpected stress, I found... by lori | Jun 13, 2018 | Artists, Beauty, Found-Object, Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Magic, Poetry, Respite, Women
Poetry reveals our hidden roots and connections. Isn’t that cool? Look what I just found. This brings me so much joy… The Light of the House by Louise Imogen Guiney (published in Happy Ending: The Collected Lyrics of Louise Imogen Guiney, 1909) Beyond the cheat... by lori | Feb 5, 2018 | Freedom, Gratitude, Here and now, Magic, Poetry, Respite, Silly, the Void
I walked alone in the Because I felt the pull of I knelt beside the To better see the And then to my A warm light touched And the whole place began to Or maybe I just I couldn’t believe my And dropped down to my I reached out to And found And found And found... by lori | Jan 8, 2018 | Beauty, Gratitude, Here and now, Nature, Pain, Poetry, Sentience
I want you to celebrate yourself. Shake off your dust. Find fierce stones that speak to you hold them, gentle now, then drop them into rivers wrinkle your wide-eyed face to focus as they sink straight down oblivious to the current. Muck arrives through always-clear... by lori | May 15, 2017 | Beauty, Culture Shift, Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Love, Nature, Neighbors, Pacific Northwest, Poetry, Respite, Work
When the wind strolls in, my meadow friends dance and bow. When waves rush to crash across my ocean friend, wide beach smiles back at me and the eagles work-resting silent on wind above etch sky-to-horizon greetings down all the way home so strong, having learned to... by lori | Feb 24, 2017 | Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Nature, Poetry
i. see her there that wide open tree out my window the one with gray arm branches, no leaves, and peeling bark? holding divine moss in perfectly twisted hands? the one that all the flickers love? I am breaking, she says, just breaking. ii. Here in this valley between...