Last night my bride fell down a flight of stairs. She’s ok, but it was scary for both of us.
This morning my grandfather undergoes heart surgery after surviving a heart attack several days ago.
Life seems to be made up of edges right now.
Yesterday’s poem written before a long drive through some yucky weather. Too heavy to be called mist, too light to be called rain. Just wet enough to make the roads fun to drive on and seep into everything.
This morning’s poem brought to you from that “I don’t know where this is coming from” part of my mind. I’m honestly not sure if it’s a form of insight or simply my attempt to process everything that’s going on lately in the world. There just seems to be so much…
I’ve been fascinated by the imagery of the lighthouse lately. Hardly an original notion, the idea of a guiding destination, but it feels especially pertinent to me lately at this stage of my creative journey.
I am one of those people who does exceptionally well when I know what is going to happen. Routines, systems, habits–these things help to energize and propel me forward. I like structure and knowing the next piece I’ll need to build with. There’s a power to this that is sacred and it occurred to me that like so many of the tools we have available at our fingertips in such abundance, how we use this tool, or misuse it, can alter the course of our entire life.
