Au revoir, Roberta

Sitting with my ritual cup of morning tea, I opened my email and scanned down the Inbox. Noting the address of Galerie Urubamba and hoping it to be a response to the note I sent to a woman in France a day earlier, I eagerly clicked it open. It took a moment for my brain…

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Place, Soul, and Wendell Berry: Being in Conscious Relationship

I find myself musing repeatedly on a sense of place these days. Perhaps ‘musing’ isn’t the optimal word; maybe it’s something more like ’steeping’ which implies a full-bodied, brewed, somatic sense of what I’m feeling. Or ’soaking,’ which also feels closer to the mark; a saturation of the bodysoul while absorbing the uniqueness of the…

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In the Spirit of O’Keeffe: A Life Lived Deliberately

I’m not really a hermit. Living high up on the mountain in Maui at the end of a road (or other remote places I have resided in the past), it’s an accusation that has been leveled at me more than once. I’ve even jokingly referred to myself as a hermit but, really, it’s a bit…

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