We all wrestle with anxieties, fears, and insecurities but we don’t talk about these things. Just like we don’t talk about poop, unless we’re joking.
I can write and talk about Mom at length on any other day, but on this day, I don’t know what to say. So I give you the words of Terry Tempest Williams.
The old women we know as grandmothers, great aunts, and elderly neighbors were once young. And they have stories to tell, if we will listen.
The landscape of our childhood is imprinted on our psyches and stored in our bodies. The places where we played will always be home.
Dining tables are more than surfaces for eating. They are vessels for living. They hold us together as families. They represent nourishment, community, and possibility.
Our hometown is always part of us, even when we move away, even if it no longer feels like home. It is almost part of our genetic history. We come from this family. We are part of this tribe.
Transformational Travel, otherwise known as: My Hero Journey While Traveling in Italy and How I Found My Way Home.
My mom was certainly a product of the time and the place in which she was raised. But she wasn’t restrained by it. By the 1970’s she was a vocal advocate against racism. Prejudices run deep, but then CAN be overcome.
A new friend recently gifted me with the book, Between Silence and Light: Spirit in the Architecture of Louis I. Kahn, by John Lobell. I vaguely knew about Kahn. He is the subject of the 2003 documentary, My Architect, and he designed the Kimball… Continue Reading “Honor the Material”
“The place where you are standing is holy ground” (Exodus 3:5) There is a saying that the body is a temple, usually referred to when considering what we consume or the activities in which we engage. But what about where our body temple resides?… Continue Reading “Holy Home”
“Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.” – Anne Bradstreet (Puritan Colonialist, poet, mother of eight, (1612-1672) When I was growing up, kids were allowed to play outside unsupervised. In fact, it was the norm. Even the expectation. No questions asked.… Continue Reading “Winter Memories and Home”
As a diversion from current events, I’ve been rereading The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff (ã 1982). I think we could all use a dose of Pooh these days. As well as a spoonful of honey. And a Daoist perspective on living in… Continue Reading “Pooh and Finding the Way Home”