An impossible yearning, a longing to go back as life pushes us ever forward. As we sit reminiscing over a particular scent, a ritual that once promised our biggest smile of the day, the poignant sound of a song, or the sight of a certain coffee mug that launches us into a time gone by. Welling up inside, the nostalgia for the past can at times overwhelm you with a sense of loss that knocks the wind out of you. Continue Reading…
I am drawn into the silence and solitude; I feel more alive out here, when the talking stops, when I venture out into the enormous emptiness of nature. I love silence. I crave it. Observing the picturesque beauty, listening to the water rushing beside me, watching eagles and herons swooping, and the stunning landscapes surrounding me. Continue Reading…
We are wired to miss the vast majority of what goes on around us. As we hurry through the moments and people in our lives each day, most of us have nothing much to say or to think about it. Even with our propensity to snap photos of everything, we still do not stop to really consider what is happening in those photographs.
There is something all of us would benefit from, and that is attempting to draw the things we see around us, regardless of whether we have a talent for doing it. An invaluable practice, when we take time to draw, we are training ourselves to see the world more intimately. Continue Reading…
Your naked body should only be given to those who fall in love with your naked soul. Without considering the connection between our sexual energy and soul means we are more likely to to have negative or unhealthy sexual experiences, which can be extremely wounding to our spirit. Continue Reading…
To have a friend and be a friend is what makes the journey so worthwhile…
I have a hard time when friends drift away. I don’t look to the horizon for my next new buddy, I prefer the trusty familiar ones, and would rather work through the difficult things and navigate life’s storms together. Continue Reading…
Tugging on Kula’s limp and scraggly turtle as she hands it back to me. One eyeball left, a gaping hole where she extracted all the stuffing from, but the turtles serif-stitched name Jamaica still reads strong on its shell.
This has become our new pastime. Turtle tug-of-war. I wonder if she hates me… the question hurls my heart into persistent restlessness… Continue Reading…
Every morning, my coffee steeps in a tin pot, as Kula carries her favourite toy back and forth from one end of the room to the other, whimpering—a post-breakfast happy dance. I used to sit down and draw during this time, but my pencil hasn’t touched a piece of paper in quite some time. Thinking back to when I would leap out of bed with an idea, and as my hand travelled around the page—pure joy—as I giggled to myself when it linked up a funny quip. Continue Reading…