The Lost Art of Listening: A Soul Skill

The morning is steeped in pastel hues of quietude. I am up with the dawn in my usual way, stepping outdoors with bare feet to greet the arrival of another day, savoring the lingering tranquility of the world around me as it slowly wakes to life. Even my little friends, the birds, are still quietly…

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The Outermost House: A Writer’s Year on Cape Cod

I love books that are like a fine meal, read slowly and savored. Disappointingly, it is far too rare that I encounter one, whether fiction or non-fiction. I don’t frequently venture into fiction realms these days (though I used to devour shelves of it), largely because I am so very particular about what I desire…

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The Morning Pages: A Creative Practice

There is a commotion of little birds outside. Along the old stone wall and on the wide flagstone steps, where I scatter golden grains of organic millet each morning (and usually again in the afternoon) when I greet the day, the winged ones are atwitter. Observing and listening to them, I am seated at the…

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In the Realm of Falcons: A New Year’s Hike

I knew the trail would be crowded on New Year’s Day but I went regardless. After a quiet morning at my cottage studio, ensconced in the southerly window seat, watching a calm blue sea through the ornate framework of tangled Monterey cypress trees, a cup of tea beside me and a book on my lap,…

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