Recently, I have found myself concerned about the future, wondering what decisions I should make, and where I am heading. The fragility of this place is hard. I wish all the answers I needed would simply lay themselves at my lap. Nonetheless, this involves the precious exercises of putting my fear in its place, of listening to the wisdom that suggests that worry will not help a thing but rather trustful, open-eyed, laughter......... Trying.

A Poem by Kay Boyle

Advice to the Old
(Including Myself)

Do not speak of yourself (for God’s sake) even when asked.
Do not dwell on other times as different from the time
Whose air we breathe; or recall books with broken spines
Whose titles died with the old dreams. Do not resort to
An alphabet of gnarled pain, but speak of the lark’s wing
Unbroken, still fluent as the tongue. Call out the names of stars
Until their metal clangs in the enormous dark. Yodel your way
Through fields where the dew weeps, but not you, not you.
Have no communion with despair; and, at the end,
Take the old fury in your empty arms, sever its veins,
And bear it fiercely, fiercely to the wild beast’s lair.


Hmmm- speak of the lark's wing... Call out the names of stars....
Something strong in these words speaks deliberately and delicately and devotedly about a vocation.
What would this mean, and how would one live it?!

A Lesson about Peace from the Snow

I left the snow of Upstate New York and moved to California:
The Golden State, the place where you are supposed to be able to wear shorts year-round. The state of sunscreen mandates, surfing safaris, and warm watery waves,
The place where you can regularly buy strawberries, mangos, and ripe & juicy oranges.

I knew what to expect. Or at least part of me, it did.

Then there was that day: The first time I took a trip up 80N.

The snow was thick and tall, and it dusted the streets with a heavy covering.

Unbelievable: I was in California and wearing snow-pants and snow-boots and all sorts of snow gear.

It was like Christmas had come to July. Except it was not July. Just something right at an unexpected time.

We talk about peace like it’s always that someday, sometime, apocalyptic—just not quite here moment.
But Vanier says that peace only happens one-heart-at-a-time. So what are we waiting for?!
Let’s get started now! Let’s open our hands to each other, risk partaking in acts of
adventurous caring, create a party and invite everyone, like Jesus would do!
Let's start acting now, with our own heart.
Why?!

Because everything in this world cannot be explained in expectations.
Because this New Yorker learned that there is in fact snow in California.
And once we stop thinking that peace can only exist in the realm of the utopian, we might recognize its possibility right before our eyes,
like the snow on I-80 that day
and the beautifully welcoming snowman that resulted!

Those familiar words: "Live the life you've always dreamed"... They are with me like a close friend now.