Recently, I've been reading Rilke, specifically Books of Hours: Love Poems to God, and as I was reading, this poem came into my mind. The small things, the things that sometimes seem inconsequential, often turn out to be essential to lifelong contentment.
Category: mindfulness
Maine Meditation
As I wind down my summer travels and wind up for the school year, I am taking this time to return to Maine in photos and poetry. I hope these images inspire you to breathe, relax, and rejuvenate.
How I’d Like to be Remembered
As I grow older, I often think about how I want to be remembered: for the art I make, for the poems I write, for the work I’ve done for over four decades. Yes, all of that. But this past weekend I was reminded about what is most important to me.
Maine-ly Peaceful
July is our Maine escape. I can just be here in this incredibly beautiful place and take in all I see.
Small Joy: Things to Look Forward to
But the truth is I’m mentally and physically exhausted. Where writing usually energizes me, I found it to be a daunting task. So I let myself take a break, and now I find it’s hard to get back into the flow. What do I write about? What uplifting story can I tell? I do not know.
Recharging
My energy is swiftly dwindling, and I’m trying to hold on to the little bit of reserve that I’ve been hiding inside myself. I find I need that reserve to be able to wrap up the year, and to get ready for summer re-energizing. I saw this butterfly mural in the town where I work, and I asked my friend, Molly, to take a picture of me with wings. I thought this image would help to remind myself of the importance of self-care. Â
Forest Bathing: New Hampshire Woods
Mountains rose up all around us, and I instantly felt at peace. This is where my mind and body belong – up among the green and growing – deep in the green valley protected by the tall mountains all around. I feel safe here.Â
Sew Easy: Lessons in Perseverance
There are three rites of passage in the Wonder Studio: using the hot glue gun, working a hack saw, and learning to sew. The joyful expressions on students’ faces as they learn these skills are salve for my weary teacher’s soul.Â
Daughter, Mother – Spring, Summer
As Mother’s Day approaches, I. have been thinking a lot about my mom, Vivian, who died at the age of 91, almost ten years ago. She was a dress designer, seamstress, artist, and teacher. What I didn’t know until this week, was that she was a poet. Poetry was my father’s realm, so I guess she kept her poetry writing private.
Inside the Wonder Studio: Marvelous Mess
From this height, I also noticed what a great mess they were creating: balls of yarn rolled across the floor, bits of balsa wood scraps scattered over the rug, a trail of red paint crossed the room from table to garbage can.
Word Dancer: Literature, the Arts, & Education 