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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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Living Deliberately (Even in Blue)

I’m struggling lately, wrestling with a deep blue sadness in the depths of my soul. I feel the somatic urge to pull inwards into an invisible shell, a subtle rounding of shoulders as my chest collapses and breath grows shallow. Instead, rather than caving in, I am standing barefoot on the earth, breathing deep into

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