As I sail through one green light after another on my way to an appointment, I think of that magical day last summer, out on the lake by...

Meet Betty. Betty is my sourdough starter. What’s unusual about Betty is not that I’ve given a name to a mere concoction of flour and...

I'm a writer and a teacher. I write pretty much every day. But just a few short years ago, I was hardly writing at all, except emails and...

Can I call myself a writer if all I do is “journalling”? Or morning pages? Writing in a writing class but not on my own? YES. I say yes,...

Sanctification: making sacred. Sacred is an anagram for scared. We are often scared of the sacred. We are scared because we have not been...

In honour of the festival of Imbolc, which honours Brigid, the Celtic goddess of fire and the hearth. (Last year’s Imbolc post here.) I...

The call of a blue jay never fails to transport her to that moment in time, instantly, to a moment so many years past that she’d actually...

Silence, deep silence, not a breeze My step on the floating dock the only ripple Cascading along the still surface of the lake. A loon...

It was a revelation of epic proportions when my first meditation instructor said to me, the body feels before you put words to it. I...

The last time I posted here, I said on Facebook that posting weekly was part of my self-compassion practice. Then I promptly skipped a...