Confessional

hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple …

I’ll tell you a secret … I’ve been a little distracted lately.

Harried.

Fractured.

Busy.

(Which — I’ll tell you — is a very modern and grown-up kind of brokenness.)

But today, I went for a walk in the woods — something I haven’t done for months now. 

I disappeared into a hole in the trees — freckled dark shade and lush underbrush.  I felt alive and at peace, and when I came out, I walked home and rustled through the bookshelves until I found this little gem by Mr. Cummings (or cummings, if you like) … 

It’s a poem, but today I’m saying it like a prayer… For me and for you:

e.e. cummings

May we stay hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple, always. ❤  

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Musings

Good words for a new year …

Three-hundred-sixty-five days ago, I found myself pondering this little poem by E.E. Cummings…

 

And it took me longer than I wanted to understand the words — to unclench my white-knuckled fists — but I’ll tell you:

In 2015, my empty hands were filled. 

Oh, friends… today, I’m wishing you the courage to let go and make room. ❤

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Musings

a small reminder, written on floating leaves …

aleaffalls

This time of year, I can’t watch a single leaf spiraling to earth without thinking of a certain special poem by E.E. Cummings …

Strung together like a necklace of cranberries on a thread, his letters make up what I consider to be the most exquisite little poem I’ve ever encountered:

l(a

le

af

fa

ll

s)

one

l

iness

Oh, friends … may we view each fluttering leaf as a reminder that there are a great many people in our lives who may be lonelier than we know.

Let’s love them well, and invite a few cold souls into the firelight of our winter hearths. ❤

l(a

 

 

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