The best and most important things won’t be named and defined…

I want to be a cog in the world…

It is possible we’ve got it upside down and back to front?

Once upon a time I told myself a story in my head…

There’s something to learn from the bare tree in the snowy field.

Outside our houses and outside ourselves we’re still and hundreds of lives announce themselves.

Just look how the light from the sun…

For the past few months I have driven from my house to town and back again…

Today I will sit and watch as the trees stand tall and let the wind bend them.

A wonderful thing about a thunderstorm…

Get a taste of the air and sample the world…

Busy squeezing the thrills and pleasures from our disappearing lives yet forgetting to open our hands to receive what’s already there.

Do the birds realize how much they help?

Curious how in our lives of change…

Home is a place we can retreat to…

There are places we can’t leave behind because they get into our veins…

Learning to live is like learning to swim. It happens when you let go of the side.

When I was very little I liked to lie on the ground amid the tall grasses…

Oh, you animal, soggy from the rain…

Sometimes, I find, it helps to half-die to the world…

First there was snow and then there was rain and then there was ice.
And still the squirrels ate.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be water…

I wonder how many times
I’ve missed a connection with a soaring hawk or a waving tree because I’m thinking what to have
for lunch?

Each morning I waked to trails and tracks…

I’m thinking of the bird that flew into the window…

The boldest thing we can do is sit with the loudness of silence…

Some days the sun rises with a roar…

Could there be anything more glorious than the way the low February sun falls on the trunk of that white birch this afternoon?

Yesterday I made banana pudding

The best questions are the ones we’re too busy – and too scared – to ask…

Birds, they say, fly…

These are the end-of-the-world places…

That moment on the runway…

I was alone for two weeks and met nobody except myself.

Today I want to thank you for the snow pants you gave me for my birthday…

I can travel the boulevards of Paris, the souks of Morocco and the sierras of Spain yet fail to find anything as entrancing as that tree,
bare and alone in the field this winter.

We seek security but forget the greatest safety is found in stillness.

I want to name you but…

I buried the bird that flew into the window by the big, green propane tank. All I can remember is the blue and the yellow of its feathers and thinking how could
something so beautiful be so dead?

Go to London and feel the heavy grey skies and gritty black roads and the red lights in the puddles and the buses that roar…

Somewhere deep in California, I find a forgotten orchard…

The low winter sun shines through the bare trees and throws blurry shadows on the snow. Hinting at reality.

Owls, they say, are wise…

Forget your golden thrones and your private jets, your Platinum cards and your million fans. I will forgo all those things for five quiet minutes watching the squirrel on the branch with snow in its fur.

On a wander led by wonder, I think I’m going somewhere, but really I’m going here.

Some days from 9-5 I’m busy inside my electric head, my fingers are tapping and my arms are pushing…

It takes a lot of facts and data to know joy is found in the embrace of mystery.

On this, the most silent of dusks…

Thank you today to the sun…

Between yesterday’s frustrations and tomorrow’s anxieties, I found two minutes to watch you roll pastry…