I love the idea of sharing different people's routines. Cut yourself some slack. You just lived through one of the hottest weeks in recent memory and you are undergoing chemo. I doubt that most of us who live in these parts were able to accomplish much last week other than putting one foot in front of another. I wrote another verse to add to today's poem.
We so loved the Earth
We so loved the earth that we destroyed our bombs, tanks, rockets, guns and other tools of war. The blood on the ground was replaced by anemones, poppies, roses, and hibiscus. Understanding and tolerance were restored among the dwellers of the land.
Many hugs and well wishes to you, and your Dad, Suleika, and to Jon and your family
We so loved the earth we left our lawn untended, releasing its spirit back to the wild. We lie down in this glade, an oasis of calm and wildflowers, listening to the buzz, dismissing the tickly feet of the hardworking crawlers, which distract our skin's senses. We rested and reconnected to he heartbeat of nature around us, cradled in the sun's embrace, finding our place within this love, again.
I own Daily Rituals—of course I do. I once kept it on my desk like a talisman, as though the right proximity to Auden’s coffee or Didion’s ice-cold Coca-Cola might coax my own discipline into formation. Eventually, I lent it to a friend. It is overdue. Although given how long I kept it cracked open without writing a word, I’m not sure I’m in a position to chase it.
Today I drove through several parts of our parched earth state. It’s winter. The fields should be green. They weren’t even chartreuse. I’ve never seen so many kangaroos—mobs of them, gathered near fence lines & dry gullies, as if forming a prayer circle of their own for rain. It felt less like movement, more like witness. Like they were holding the line for the rest of us who’d forgotten how.
We so loved the Earth
we didn’t interrupt the gathering,
didn’t call it beauty just because it held still.
We let the dust settle in our throats without complaint,
Kim, Kim, Kim...once again you have touched my deepest heart. Now, I have never seen a Kangaroo in the wild, but your description, your witness, made me feel as I was right next to you.
Thank you, Alyson—that’s so kind. Yes, I’m in Australia, though I imagine the quiet gatherings of creatures & clouds wouldn’t look so different across the Tasman, especially in times of drought. I’m glad you’ve spent time in Aotearoa—it’s a beautiful part of the world.
Thank you, Rachel. There was something solemn in the way they stood. It felt like we were being witnessed. Beckoned by them—wordless & still. It’s winter here. They looked at us as if to ask, what have you done with all the water?
as I was afraid, that in its commonness, no one else had noticed it, no one else had chosen it.
I so love the Earth, that I began a neighborhood recycling program when I was 10.
A small, metal wagon, a lot of gumption, and The Lorax as my muse, I traveled from house to house, collecting newspapers.
Dad showed me how to bundle them, and then each Saturday, he would haul them to "The Dump" where they would recycle them and give him a small price.
I so love the Earth, that as an adult, which has the heart of a child in an uncorrupted spot, I still believe that the moss holds fairies, the dirt and the sweet smell holds all the answers.
I so love the Earth that I often fall to my knees in tears of woe, tears of joy, and sweat of my brow, knowing others before me have done the same.
I so love the Earth, that it is my holy ground and my holy grounding.
I am but a speck, among all the other specks, each of us, with a purpose
and that purpose is so clear to me now, and was so egocentric before.
I so love the Earth that I write
I write so that I leave something behind
I teach so that I both leave and gather the wisdom of young children
I question and seek
Weep and laugh,
I so love the Earth, that I never want to leave.
One day, I know I shall
and selfishly, I hope it is not for a very long time.
Dr. Mae, thank you. I love that you love sparrows too! They have such plucky personalities, and each possess an individuality that is so fun to discover as I gaze at them at my birdfeeders.
Heather, thank you. It was my dad who taught me the names of teers, to identify flowers, leaves, animal tracks, the smell of dirt in the various season, and that we are but visitors and as in all things, to leave "it" better than we found it.
Could I be smiling any broader right now? Ahhh...my rap ability. And I consider you my soul sister too. How simple, and beautiful to meet minds, hearts and souls with our shared experiences on this beautiful planet. (The rap will have to come later. hee/hee)
Thank you Suleika for the gift that is The Book of Alchemy. I have a morning routine that includes journaling my responses to the wonderful prompts in your magical book. Living in Washington DC during these dystopian times has truly affected my creativity and levels of joy. Knowing that I have the essays to look forward to has helped immensely. I even started my first pastel in months!
My Chicago brother Robert Francis Prevost “Pope Leo” is bringing me hope and joy in measures exceeding anything I’ve felt in months. At 79, I’m falling back on the riches that are both the transcendence and the grounded gospel beatitude to welcome all. For stuckness Leo brings us the man paralyzed for 38 years and the rewards of faith in the woman who had been bleeding 12 years. Both were healed when he called their attention to their inner gold.
And my very first thought upon seeing the photo was oh no Suleika. Your face is on fire. Love it.💥
When I am stuck and in a rut I organize a few things that I would normally use, pattern, yarn, crochet hook, miscellaneous tools, set them all aside and visualize what I want to make. Keeping the ideas in mind. When I go to bed I'll sometimes start dreaming about the project, wake up, get up and begin working on it. It all started in college when I would dream about math problems and I would wake up and be able to solve whatever problem it was. Sometimes the mind just takes over. You cannot rush or force creativity.
We so loved the earth because. Because. Because we hug the trees in the woods behind the house. Because we put fresh water in a shallow basin on the deck so the birds can drink and bathe in this unrelenting heat. Because we also have a shallow dish filled with pebbles and water to give the pollinators a safe place to drink.
We so loved the earth in spite of. In spite of. In spite of the turmoil. Both the earth and humanity are reeling. There’s an anger that I’ve never witnessed before in my life. My world is established 23 miles south of D.C. So near to the epicenter of confusion. Of hate. Of helplessness. But I am here. I am here for you. I am here for all of you who feel as I feel. There is a spark that will not be extinguished and as long as it flickers, I am here because we so love the earth.
Thank you for giving water to the birds and pollinators., Peg. I do that too and thrill every time I walk past the little haven we've carved from the lonicera and wild rose and salal for bird water dishes made from recycled beach glass. I have water for pollinators on the ground. Should I fill the bowl with pebbles? I thought they could drink from the bird baths too?
It’s little mercies like this that save me when life gets out of control. Thank you for doing these things too, Kirie.
My bird bath is large and deep and the birds are high energy when they splash around. The pollinator dish is a clay saucer and the pebbles give them a place to land and reach the water. I put it on the other side of the deck, away from the birds. It has worked very well.
Thanks for getting back to me on this. We live in the middle and on the edge of a heritage forest that spreads back through the Olympic Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. I don't know where I could put water for bees and butterflies that's out of reach of birds. Right now lots of juncos ground-feeding and "talking,' very tame. And a wild bunny. A song sparrow that serenades us as we go to sleep in our canvas tent on the cliff above the water May through October. I grew up here, on this property, and am happiest when living out of doors. My husband, born and raised in Brooklyn, has gradually come around. Thanks for what you do for the creatures!
The birds will sometimes drink the bee water, but separating it from the bird bath is because the birds splash and create a lot of racket. But they can’t bathe in the bee dish. Their water is on one side of the deck and the bee dish is on the other. If a bee would get knocked into the bird dish water they would not be able to get out.
Your place sounds wonderful. I love the northwest. My in-laws lived in Oregon and we were there twice. I’ve never seen anything else like it. ☺️
Right now I have a momma eastern bluebird incubating eggs in a nest box. This will be the 20th clutch of bluebird babies that have fledged in our yard. Nature is wonderful.
Hello All. Thank you so much Suleika for today's beautiful journal. I am so excited to hear about The Journaler’s Routine! And my question is to hear about your routines in with doctors and the medical system. And thank you for your constant gifts of you. My other question is how can we as a community help in ways to support you? I have another procedure schedule. Not sure why the doctor is waiting to schedule the second procedure. I grateful to all of this community.
I mark each day with a painting—over 5,900 so far, with no plans to stop. After surviving cancer as a young adult, I sought a way to make every day matter, even the most ordinary days. So each morning, without excuse, I wake up at 5AM and I paint (I still need an alarm to wake up that early!) the advantage to this time slot, is it sets the tone for the day.
Hi Suleika, thank you. The best part of the daily painting practice is that it’s self-propelling — there are no gatekeepers. As it continues, opportunities naturally arise, including other daily practices like diary comics, a form of graphic medicine - the intersection of comics and healthcare.
We so loved the earth that we noticed when the grasses sprang up after our footsteps. We noticed how the tiny clovers all turned to face the sun on midsummer’s morning. We walked the expanse of the flats at low tide on the bay, until we were alone with the sandpipers and the gulls.
I have been routinely reading your Alchemy book and writing daily which I have never done before. My writing is not anything great but I am just celebrating picking up a pen and putting in on the page. I realize how much I need routines to move forward. I have been home for six weeks after a surgery and I have a new appreciation for all who struggle with chronic illness and pain. It is hard to feel limited and find ways to renew.
We so loved the Earth we made a ritual of its apple harvests, women together in the orchard, in the kitchen, in the cellar, honoring the start, the now, and the next.
We so loved the Earth we gathered at the biggest, highest windows when it rained, awe holding our breath as the storm’s lungs swelled, then gusted feeling forth.
We so loved the Earth we wiggled divots in its soil, asking for space to plant.
We so loved the Earth we laid our hatless heads in its quilt-quiet snow drifts to hear the white water chatter.
We so loved the Earth we looked up and into its lidless eye, holding its gaze as it hurtled on.
I just journaled moments ago from the prompt written by Hollynn Huitt – Weeding
I’ve been traveling over the last two weeks and my journal along with the book of alchemy has been sitting silent. I always find the early morning a place where my brain is clearer or more open. My garden can be beautiful but the task list is long and seasonal.. While the garden can sit the task list in my personal life is long and I have been letting it sit as well. In the quiet of this Sunday, I will retrieve my work notebook and make the list to free my mind of what feels like impending and impossible.
We so loved the Earth that I wrote a long comment, clicked on the button only to see it vanish without the possibility to recover it. At first it irritated me, but then I thought: the most important thing is not the words, but the quality of listening we offer to the song of Life.
We loved the Earth so much that our hearts and hands began to listen to the song of the Earth, the birds, the insects, the wind, the trees, the waves.
We loved the Earth so much that our ears and eyes began to listen to the texture of Life, to the shadows, to the light, to the color.
We loved the Earth so much that enchantment turned into tears, into marvel, into delicate gestures.
We so loved the Earth that we forgot to be afraid and angry, hugging lovingly the shape of the landscape, the shape of our imperfect hearts, the shape of our darkest thoughts, the shape of our fearless creativity, the luminous and elusive shape of smile and laugh.
We so loved the Earth that Life itself turned into attentively listening inside and outside, outside and inside.
We so loved the Earth that we accept even the most frightening, but also the most inspiring assets of Life: humility, diversity, transformation, death and rebirth, creativity, calmness, solitude and emptiness.
Is there anything more imperfectly perfect, more perfectly imperfect?
We loved Earth so much that finally we accepted ourselves for what we are: colorful pieces in a bigger picture. I chose my colors: loving and listening. Which are yours?
"The curtain goes up at eight" Theater made me routinized, added to working as a waitress for years, and having a private practice. One of my favorite teachers George Z. Beredey, shared 3 pages a day and 90 in a month. A bit of writing has always been part of my routine, not especially for a book or product. I hope my words will fly out into the world "Earth" and land somewhere. I am not the guardian to my words they are fluid- like Sparrows which I too adore. Lauryn Hill "His Eyes Are on the Sparrow". Oh yes i am listening now..
Love this- and I credit my years working in theatre for many good habits that have helped me throughout my life. I’m implementing the same skills I used writing production schedules backwards from opening night to prepare my new product launch (and have built in the equivalent final calls - amazing what can be done in those final 10 minutes!).
Suleika,
I love the idea of sharing different people's routines. Cut yourself some slack. You just lived through one of the hottest weeks in recent memory and you are undergoing chemo. I doubt that most of us who live in these parts were able to accomplish much last week other than putting one foot in front of another. I wrote another verse to add to today's poem.
We so loved the Earth
We so loved the earth that we destroyed our bombs, tanks, rockets, guns and other tools of war. The blood on the ground was replaced by anemones, poppies, roses, and hibiscus. Understanding and tolerance were restored among the dwellers of the land.
❤️❤️
stunning. may it be so.
Thank you Lisa
That verse I love
Many hugs and well wishes to you, and your Dad, Suleika, and to Jon and your family
We so loved the earth we left our lawn untended, releasing its spirit back to the wild. We lie down in this glade, an oasis of calm and wildflowers, listening to the buzz, dismissing the tickly feet of the hardworking crawlers, which distract our skin's senses. We rested and reconnected to he heartbeat of nature around us, cradled in the sun's embrace, finding our place within this love, again.
So lovely I could feel it!
Thank you, Connie xo
Ah so overwhelmingly true…
Suleika—
I own Daily Rituals—of course I do. I once kept it on my desk like a talisman, as though the right proximity to Auden’s coffee or Didion’s ice-cold Coca-Cola might coax my own discipline into formation. Eventually, I lent it to a friend. It is overdue. Although given how long I kept it cracked open without writing a word, I’m not sure I’m in a position to chase it.
Today I drove through several parts of our parched earth state. It’s winter. The fields should be green. They weren’t even chartreuse. I’ve never seen so many kangaroos—mobs of them, gathered near fence lines & dry gullies, as if forming a prayer circle of their own for rain. It felt less like movement, more like witness. Like they were holding the line for the rest of us who’d forgotten how.
We so loved the Earth
we didn’t interrupt the gathering,
didn’t call it beauty just because it held still.
We let the dust settle in our throats without complaint,
kept our eyes on the mobs as if they might speak.
We drove on with our hands quiet in our laps
& the heat pressing through the glass—
praying for the sky to remember them, & us.
Kim, Kim, Kim...once again you have touched my deepest heart. Now, I have never seen a Kangaroo in the wild, but your description, your witness, made me feel as I was right next to you.
Mary, you always meet me right where I am. Thank you for that.
They really were something—those roos. The stillness they held wasn’t empty, it was knowing. I’m glad you could feel it from there.
May the rains come and soothe the earth and the kangaroos and refresh the streams for your dry throats. Your writing is profound.
Thank you, Connie. What a beautiful wish. I’ll carry that prayer with me next time I pass those still mobs—& I hope the rains listen.
Beautiful Kim
Thank you.
Wishing you well on the other side of our planet. I’ve been to New Zealand ….
But perhaps you are in Australia.
Thank you, Alyson—that’s so kind. Yes, I’m in Australia, though I imagine the quiet gatherings of creatures & clouds wouldn’t look so different across the Tasman, especially in times of drought. I’m glad you’ve spent time in Aotearoa—it’s a beautiful part of the world.
Your imagery is so clear I feel the kangaroos 🦘.
Thank you, Rachel. There was something solemn in the way they stood. It felt like we were being witnessed. Beckoned by them—wordless & still. It’s winter here. They looked at us as if to ask, what have you done with all the water?
Wow!
Thank you, Nancy. I think the roos would’ve said the same, if they spoke in our tongue.
We so loved the Earth,
I so love the Earth, that as a child
I picked the Sparrow to be my favorite bird,
as I was afraid, that in its commonness, no one else had noticed it, no one else had chosen it.
I so love the Earth, that I began a neighborhood recycling program when I was 10.
A small, metal wagon, a lot of gumption, and The Lorax as my muse, I traveled from house to house, collecting newspapers.
Dad showed me how to bundle them, and then each Saturday, he would haul them to "The Dump" where they would recycle them and give him a small price.
I so love the Earth, that as an adult, which has the heart of a child in an uncorrupted spot, I still believe that the moss holds fairies, the dirt and the sweet smell holds all the answers.
I so love the Earth that I often fall to my knees in tears of woe, tears of joy, and sweat of my brow, knowing others before me have done the same.
I so love the Earth, that it is my holy ground and my holy grounding.
I am but a speck, among all the other specks, each of us, with a purpose
and that purpose is so clear to me now, and was so egocentric before.
I so love the Earth that I write
I write so that I leave something behind
I teach so that I both leave and gather the wisdom of young children
I question and seek
Weep and laugh,
I so love the Earth, that I never want to leave.
One day, I know I shall
and selfishly, I hope it is not for a very long time.
Mary,
I love that you “gather the wisdom of young children”. They are our hope for the Earth.
Carol, thank you! They truly are "our hope for the Earth."
I love Sparrows as well, and your share so inspired me.. thank you
Dr. Mae, thank you. I love that you love sparrows too! They have such plucky personalities, and each possess an individuality that is so fun to discover as I gaze at them at my birdfeeders.
I think most of us are sparrows, doing our best, in a complex world.
What a beautiful share and inspiring actions you have in how you do love 💕 the Earth
Heather, thank you. It was my dad who taught me the names of teers, to identify flowers, leaves, animal tracks, the smell of dirt in the various season, and that we are but visitors and as in all things, to leave "it" better than we found it.
also, your rapping ability! Let us not forget that little gem of a talent! Loved this, my soul sister. Love you.
Could I be smiling any broader right now? Ahhh...my rap ability. And I consider you my soul sister too. How simple, and beautiful to meet minds, hearts and souls with our shared experiences on this beautiful planet. (The rap will have to come later. hee/hee)
Your love for the earth is received in kind.
Rachel, how fortuante I am to have a sister in Earth Love.
Elizabeth, We could be twins with identical hearts and tears
From your Jewish sister, NancyHannah
Thank you Suleika for the gift that is The Book of Alchemy. I have a morning routine that includes journaling my responses to the wonderful prompts in your magical book. Living in Washington DC during these dystopian times has truly affected my creativity and levels of joy. Knowing that I have the essays to look forward to has helped immensely. I even started my first pastel in months!
So glad to hear that the book is providing creative kindling! It’s the best way I know to get through ❤️
My Chicago brother Robert Francis Prevost “Pope Leo” is bringing me hope and joy in measures exceeding anything I’ve felt in months. At 79, I’m falling back on the riches that are both the transcendence and the grounded gospel beatitude to welcome all. For stuckness Leo brings us the man paralyzed for 38 years and the rewards of faith in the woman who had been bleeding 12 years. Both were healed when he called their attention to their inner gold.
Dystopian and Heartbreaking times—
Trying to find Hope and how to advocate for future generations.
The sadness can not be escaped
Unless we are here for one another
As a Canadian, I send you lightness and ease at such trying times.
Thank you for realizing most didn't want the orange terrorist in charge.
I am similarly enjoying a summer season with Alchemy just north in Baltimore. Every day, it’s the distance and the insight I need to start.
I love this community.
And my very first thought upon seeing the photo was oh no Suleika. Your face is on fire. Love it.💥
When I am stuck and in a rut I organize a few things that I would normally use, pattern, yarn, crochet hook, miscellaneous tools, set them all aside and visualize what I want to make. Keeping the ideas in mind. When I go to bed I'll sometimes start dreaming about the project, wake up, get up and begin working on it. It all started in college when I would dream about math problems and I would wake up and be able to solve whatever problem it was. Sometimes the mind just takes over. You cannot rush or force creativity.
Your father is wonderful.
It felt like it a few times! 🔥🔥
Me too… awake after what I call my God time, everything seen clearly
We so loved the earth because. Because. Because we hug the trees in the woods behind the house. Because we put fresh water in a shallow basin on the deck so the birds can drink and bathe in this unrelenting heat. Because we also have a shallow dish filled with pebbles and water to give the pollinators a safe place to drink.
We so loved the earth in spite of. In spite of. In spite of the turmoil. Both the earth and humanity are reeling. There’s an anger that I’ve never witnessed before in my life. My world is established 23 miles south of D.C. So near to the epicenter of confusion. Of hate. Of helplessness. But I am here. I am here for you. I am here for all of you who feel as I feel. There is a spark that will not be extinguished and as long as it flickers, I am here because we so love the earth.
Thank you for giving water to the birds and pollinators., Peg. I do that too and thrill every time I walk past the little haven we've carved from the lonicera and wild rose and salal for bird water dishes made from recycled beach glass. I have water for pollinators on the ground. Should I fill the bowl with pebbles? I thought they could drink from the bird baths too?
It’s little mercies like this that save me when life gets out of control. Thank you for doing these things too, Kirie.
My bird bath is large and deep and the birds are high energy when they splash around. The pollinator dish is a clay saucer and the pebbles give them a place to land and reach the water. I put it on the other side of the deck, away from the birds. It has worked very well.
Thanks for getting back to me on this. We live in the middle and on the edge of a heritage forest that spreads back through the Olympic Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. I don't know where I could put water for bees and butterflies that's out of reach of birds. Right now lots of juncos ground-feeding and "talking,' very tame. And a wild bunny. A song sparrow that serenades us as we go to sleep in our canvas tent on the cliff above the water May through October. I grew up here, on this property, and am happiest when living out of doors. My husband, born and raised in Brooklyn, has gradually come around. Thanks for what you do for the creatures!
The birds will sometimes drink the bee water, but separating it from the bird bath is because the birds splash and create a lot of racket. But they can’t bathe in the bee dish. Their water is on one side of the deck and the bee dish is on the other. If a bee would get knocked into the bird dish water they would not be able to get out.
Your place sounds wonderful. I love the northwest. My in-laws lived in Oregon and we were there twice. I’ve never seen anything else like it. ☺️
Right now I have a momma eastern bluebird incubating eggs in a nest box. This will be the 20th clutch of bluebird babies that have fledged in our yard. Nature is wonderful.
Hello All. Thank you so much Suleika for today's beautiful journal. I am so excited to hear about The Journaler’s Routine! And my question is to hear about your routines in with doctors and the medical system. And thank you for your constant gifts of you. My other question is how can we as a community help in ways to support you? I have another procedure schedule. Not sure why the doctor is waiting to schedule the second procedure. I grateful to all of this community.
Hi Gina, you were in my thoughts this week, sending you strength and hugs. xo
Thank you so much!!
I mark each day with a painting—over 5,900 so far, with no plans to stop. After surviving cancer as a young adult, I sought a way to make every day matter, even the most ordinary days. So each morning, without excuse, I wake up at 5AM and I paint (I still need an alarm to wake up that early!) the advantage to this time slot, is it sets the tone for the day.
5900?! Incredible. I can’t even imagine the beautiful things that have emerged from all these years of daily practice ❤️
Hi Suleika, thank you. The best part of the daily painting practice is that it’s self-propelling — there are no gatekeepers. As it continues, opportunities naturally arise, including other daily practices like diary comics, a form of graphic medicine - the intersection of comics and healthcare.
We so loved the earth that we noticed when the grasses sprang up after our footsteps. We noticed how the tiny clovers all turned to face the sun on midsummer’s morning. We walked the expanse of the flats at low tide on the bay, until we were alone with the sandpipers and the gulls.
I have been routinely reading your Alchemy book and writing daily which I have never done before. My writing is not anything great but I am just celebrating picking up a pen and putting in on the page. I realize how much I need routines to move forward. I have been home for six weeks after a surgery and I have a new appreciation for all who struggle with chronic illness and pain. It is hard to feel limited and find ways to renew.
We so loved the Earth we made a ritual of its apple harvests, women together in the orchard, in the kitchen, in the cellar, honoring the start, the now, and the next.
We so loved the Earth we gathered at the biggest, highest windows when it rained, awe holding our breath as the storm’s lungs swelled, then gusted feeling forth.
We so loved the Earth we wiggled divots in its soil, asking for space to plant.
We so loved the Earth we laid our hatless heads in its quilt-quiet snow drifts to hear the white water chatter.
We so loved the Earth we looked up and into its lidless eye, holding its gaze as it hurtled on.
Quilt quiet snow drifts ❤️❤️
A beautiful reminder we so loved the earth, not just I.
I go to the (f’ing) gym. I just go. I have discovered (quite late in life) that that’s where my people are. Who knew?
I just journaled moments ago from the prompt written by Hollynn Huitt – Weeding
I’ve been traveling over the last two weeks and my journal along with the book of alchemy has been sitting silent. I always find the early morning a place where my brain is clearer or more open. My garden can be beautiful but the task list is long and seasonal.. While the garden can sit the task list in my personal life is long and I have been letting it sit as well. In the quiet of this Sunday, I will retrieve my work notebook and make the list to free my mind of what feels like impending and impossible.
We so loved the Earth that I wrote a long comment, clicked on the button only to see it vanish without the possibility to recover it. At first it irritated me, but then I thought: the most important thing is not the words, but the quality of listening we offer to the song of Life.
We loved the Earth so much that our hearts and hands began to listen to the song of the Earth, the birds, the insects, the wind, the trees, the waves.
We loved the Earth so much that our ears and eyes began to listen to the texture of Life, to the shadows, to the light, to the color.
We loved the Earth so much that enchantment turned into tears, into marvel, into delicate gestures.
We so loved the Earth that we forgot to be afraid and angry, hugging lovingly the shape of the landscape, the shape of our imperfect hearts, the shape of our darkest thoughts, the shape of our fearless creativity, the luminous and elusive shape of smile and laugh.
We so loved the Earth that Life itself turned into attentively listening inside and outside, outside and inside.
We so loved the Earth that we accept even the most frightening, but also the most inspiring assets of Life: humility, diversity, transformation, death and rebirth, creativity, calmness, solitude and emptiness.
Is there anything more imperfectly perfect, more perfectly imperfect?
We loved Earth so much that finally we accepted ourselves for what we are: colorful pieces in a bigger picture. I chose my colors: loving and listening. Which are yours?
“The quality of listening” ❤️❤️
"The curtain goes up at eight" Theater made me routinized, added to working as a waitress for years, and having a private practice. One of my favorite teachers George Z. Beredey, shared 3 pages a day and 90 in a month. A bit of writing has always been part of my routine, not especially for a book or product. I hope my words will fly out into the world "Earth" and land somewhere. I am not the guardian to my words they are fluid- like Sparrows which I too adore. Lauryn Hill "His Eyes Are on the Sparrow". Oh yes i am listening now..
Love this- and I credit my years working in theatre for many good habits that have helped me throughout my life. I’m implementing the same skills I used writing production schedules backwards from opening night to prepare my new product launch (and have built in the equivalent final calls - amazing what can be done in those final 10 minutes!).