Bounce, flip, soar, fly: repeat. Lightness of being, knowing my body in space, letting go, no fear – my parents bravery at gifting my brother and I the freedom to play. The story goes that my grandmother, Tilly, bid and won the trampoline (after a few too many gin and tonics) at an auction. Realizing…
Tag: remembering
A day in Reims, France – Part One
Oprah Winfrey uses the word, “marvelism” and Phil Cousineau writes in The Art of Pilgrimage, “How will you remember to remember when you return home?” It’s been almost 3 months since I returned home from 3 weeks in Paris. Usually, my pen is quick to the page, eager to share the bounty from my travels….
Dwelling in Possibility
“I dwell in possibility.” Emily Dickinson #possibility is our prompt today at 31 Days of SoulStrolling. A few weeks ago, with Julie Gardner, Writers Gathering in Seattle, our prompt was Emily Dickinson’s poem, “I dwell in possibility.” This is what flowed from pen to paper: I dwell in possibility – to dwell, to be. To practice presence wherever…
Instructions for Threshold and Portal Crossings
Threshold: doorsill, any doorway or entrance, the starting point of an experience, event or venture. While I grasp the basic definition, the part that intrigues me most is the “starting point of an experience, event or venture.” Perhaps this is because I love mystery and it speaks to a deeper longing and wonder in my soul. John…
The Dress-Up Box
What is it about getting older? Have I forgotten how to play? Libby, my lab, is a master with her, looks-like-I’ve-been-doing-something-mischievous-grin, as she returns from wandering outside. I played often as a child: hide and seek, kick the can, make believe. Dress-up clothes from the box kept for us in the basement – Peter Pan…
Stories from my childhood – Piano Lessons
Mrs. Carney’s house for piano lessons. I am eight years old and she, to me, is ancient. My bottom is sweaty from nervousness, and as I arise from the birch bench after my first half hour lesson – a stain. Mrs. Carney’s crinkly grey eyes open wide in shock, or wonder, I’m not sure. My…
5 Weeks in France, Part 4 – The Flowers of Paris
My heart hurts and tears drop from my eyes as I remember the attacks in Paris. I know much is being written, shared, posted. I don’t live in Paris. I’m not French. I live in Seattle, but my heart and years of memories reside there. I’m Canadian/American and a ‘tourist’ when I visit. My spirit…
Ode to my Father’s Knee
You bore the weight of loss upon your body from a young age; your little knees torn and scratched from playing football on the gravel ground, bled the pain and carried the scars of your mother’s life – gone, at such a young age. Your father carried you as best he could dressing you each…
Ode to Lighting Candles
On this growing colder November day As the light lessens And darkness knocks at my door I hear my candles whispering their request “Will you please grant us light?” Such a simple thing The striking of the match against the box The flame as it leaps from the tip of the wood The smell…
Anne of Green Gables and the New Year
“Isn’t it a splendid thing that there are mornings.” Anne of Green Gables Anne of Green Gables was one of my favorite childhood characters. She was full of life, courage, purpose, determination, gathered good friends, and was a gift to grow up with. I love how Lucy Maud Montgomery developed her as a character: as…
On remembering and being present with Mary Oliver
“This is the lesson of age – events pass, things change, trauma fades, good fortune rises, fades, rises again, but different.” Mary Oliver A friend of mine introduced me to Mary Oliver’s writing a number of years ago. Her words watered a languishing seed of hope within my spirit that was in deep need of…
Sharon Richards 