Here in the mountains, the waning afternoon light has taken on an earth-warmed hue, like bronze poured over low banked coals. Already a few trees
Every year is a cycle of living and dying, and every transition is medicine. In winter we approach that beauty of endings. As the cold pushes
In winter we stir the embers. A motion of both caretaking and stoking, a gentle coaxing and potent remembering of that which lights our fire.
Healing is about communing with the cycles. Like the circles of sun and tide and horizon, our lives are intimately guided, nudged and nurtured by
The frost is simply dazzling these days. Stretched out across the yard and far hills of moss like a sparkling net of stars. Lately, I’ve
The medicine of my world is fed by many streams— plants, flowers, stones, spirit and dreams. The most profound healing in my life has arisen from