Shooting Stars and the World Clock

night sky

The sky was dark but the night sky bright tonight as I soaked in the mystery.

Stars were bright as the red lights blinked on the horizon. The red lights are part of the world clock towers. Every night they do something special. Who knew there was such a thing? You can read about it here:

All at once the present and past mingle like good friends as a shooting star streaked across the sky while the world clocks blinked in synchronization.


Growing Into

curly silk moss


How do we ‘grow into’ connected-ness of life? It feels much like having grandma’s pearls and playing dress-up. Little by little the strand moved up on our chest until they sat perfectly at our neck. So much of life is “growing into”; a momentum and shift, sometimes so slight it isn’t always recognized. Like the elderly’s return to a child state of being, we remember. I’m reminded when I visit the SC Island. That faint smell whistles by in the wind and another time and place take the stage. Something from far behind and something far beyond visits simultaneously. Strangely, “growing into” feels familiar.

“Growing into” can feel like you met a soul mate before you understood the depth and scope of that word. You knew and felt the specialty but the words weren’t yet in your heart’s vocabulary. How could you have recognized something you’ve never seen or known?

There is so much grace in the way we stay connected to people and to life, until we know enough to cherish and savor every moment. It’s like a mother with camera in hand, ‘snapping away’ at her little loves; capturing nuances of life. One hand holds the camera and the other a baby on the hip all the while legs are running to keep up with littles who have newly sprouted wings. It’s not until her hands are free and her legs mirror the clock that turned millions of times, that she realizes what the ‘snapping away’ really was. It was a growing into…grace. This grace from the past now feeding the present and future is another poignant “growing into”.

If we weren’t bound by clock-ticking perception, we might not be so shocked that we do indeed experience in reverse and then again fast forward. The “aha moments”are never in the straight and narrow line. Don’t you agree that sometimes the past seems present, and what is present seems past? And they are all jumbled up into life’s most beautiful epiphanies and memories. Life’s circle is an uncanny, deja’vu kind of feeling.

As I walk down the dirt road with towering oaks overhead, the moss slips down from the trees like curly silk threads in a tattered shawl. I soak in the feeling of belonging; of familiarity. Maybe I am here. Maybe I am in a dream. Maybe I have been here before or will be here again. I cannot tell the difference.

The Color of Stillness


I love the sunsets that have me darting my eyes in every direction so I can take it all in…

but tonight I was anchored in one spot, looking in one direction, mesmerized. I saw and felt the color of stillness. The unassuming gradation soothed and made my eyes and ears take a backseat. My mind curled up in the most comfortable chair.  I wrapped in the blanket and took in the sinking light like warm broth on a chilly night; each sip necessary for survival.

The stillness settled and stayed awhile. Even the birds hushed in a moment of respect.

Busyness has it’s place, but not in my mind tonight.


The Privilege of Struggle


Most of us aren’t wondering how we will physically survive the day. But we do wonder if we will survive emotionally and spiritually. The struggle itself means we are forging through obstacles. Sure, we could avoid struggle, but the cost is so high.

The cost is high…death while being alive.

There’s a little old building on this property outside the RV. It has weathered a lot. You can tell it’s old by the wood, chipped paint and antique doorknob. I love it. It’s the backdrop for my prairie view. It reminds me that resilience is interesting, noble, honorable and worthy. It reminds me that scars mean we’ve tried something…maybe even something daring.

If we dream, love, open up, try new things, imagine better, well, this means we are vulnerable to emotional and spiritual daggers. We might look a little “weathered” like this building.

But, if we don’t dream, love, try, imagine… we are dead already.

Do you have a clear vision of the life you want? What are you called to contribute to this world? Are you trying new things? Saying yes to scary things? Are you loving people in all of the ways that make you most vulnerable? Do you counter the darkness by being light? Do you think against cultural norms? Are you aware of the power you possess?

If any of these things are true, consider the next thunder-clap in the heavens above as an applause for YOU. Do you hear that ROAR? That’s for YOU. The world has been waiting for you to show up with exactly what you are. May this thunder=clap echo loud and long enough to be confirmation to your soul. YOU are onto something here.

This is the privilege of struggle. This is living while being ALIVE.


Held Hostage by CHANGE



We’re in our RV, parked with foothills to the west and prairie to the east. Today I see dark gray clouds in all directions. I check the weather and see it’s 66 degrees and the forecast predicts cloudiness all day. It’s a stark change from yesterday’s full sun and 92 degrees.

The wind is gusting. It makes the awning make quite the racket. The top of the awning has just enough “give” to billow and make a lot of noise as it feels the wind. In a split-second this morning I thought the sound was someone coming up to the door, or maybe leaving?  I do feel something coming, something going. Well, look who it is.

“Hello, CHANGE”.

Do you, like me, have a love/hate relationship with CHANGE? No miracle thoughts seem to come to me with CHANGE around. Maybe with enough intention, I can squeak out a little rainbow thought, but I tell ya, CHANGE has a lot of power, always humbling me to the core. Every single time, CHANGE holds a mirror up to me. Hard as I try, CHANGE won’t let me look away. Maybe that’s the scariest part. I’m a hostage as I’m put in the back seat of the car, kicking and screaming. Helpless. There’s that stupid iron gate between me and the front where I want to be. CHANGE is wearing a dark jacket with a hood, face hidden. ‘Typical of those who hold hostages’, I think to myself and roll my eyes. Of course I could bang on the windows, shout and scream, bark threats and display a stoic poker face like I’m in charge, but I’ve always been so tired after that tirade and it’s never served me. CHANGE has no ears, only eyes. Oh, the irony, that I even know this and am that familiar with CHANGE. If only CHANGE would look at me, I would be able to make MY point.

This time, I surrendered.

On this day with CHANGE, I sat back in the backseat and looked out of the windows at the moving landscape with anticipation, confidence, excitement. I noticed color and shape and let it move me and soothe me emotionally. I welcomed the mystery and I didn’t give power to the doubt-thoughts, even though I knew nothing and felt uncertain. Knowing that I knew nothing felt different, freeing. I took in a deep breath.Yes, I admit the air was both bitter and sweet, cold and hot, fickle and unpredictable. It called on me for something deep. It called for gratitude for air itself. I looked at the back of CHANGE’S hooded head and for the first time thought something positive. CHANGE is unique as both a noun and verb.

(Then the awning stilled). The car stopped moving. CHANGE opened my door and stood quiet. I got out and did a quick panoramic sweep to see where I’d been taken. I breathed air as if was familiar. It only took two breaths this time. Maybe I’m making progress? I saw an unfamiliar trail head in the distance. ‘It could be treacherous. It could be magical’, two thoughts warred in my mind. In that moment, I looked over at CHANGE who slowly took the hood down and handed me gifts for the trail. I blinked long to let the shock settle. I had imagined CHANGE’S face a million times before, as harsh, steely, unfeeling… That’s not the loving, familiar face I saw before me..

I must be the “Rock Lady”



I’ve placed the rocks out on the make-shift table outside of the RV. I’m the “picker-upper” on the hikes we take. You’ve heard of cat ladies? I think I must be “the rock lady”. My backpack becomes heavier and heavier as we go along. I see the light and color and uniqueness of a rock and it seems to call out “pick me, pick me”. And I do. And then I scramble to catch up to my husband who knows by now a rock must’ve caught my eye.😉 I pick it up and hold it for a while as I walk. There seems to be an energy exchange. I think of the rock’s journey and imagine it’s tumble-down to where I found it. Sometimes I found it enjoying the coolness of the river or basking in the shadow of an aspen. It causes me to ponder life in it’s simplicity and complexity, both uniquely present in this imagery.

I notice in the contrast to other rocks, the smoothness or jaggedness is pronounced. Color is vibrant and more noticeable. They each seem to compliment perfectly because of their differences, not in spite of them. Most relationships mirror this truth, don’t you think?

It’s part of the reason we are drawn.

We need the perspective of dark to notice light.

We need the gentle curves of mercy to appreciate the power and piercing of jagged truth. What a beautiful world when both are present and appreciated.