the world awaits

Sicily Ortygia Streetside Art.JPG

This lovely piece is by Vironika Tugaleva, which I found on the Radiating Blossom blog.

“It is almost as if we are all playing a big game of hide-and-go-seek. We all hide expecting to be found, but no one has been labelled the seeker. We stand behind the wall, at first excited, then worried, then bored, then anxious, then angry. We hide and hide. After a while, the game is not fun anymore. Where is my seeker? Where is the person who is supposed to come find me here in my protected shell and cut me open? Where is that one who will make me trust him, make me comfortable, make me feel whole? Some people rot on the spot, waiting for the seeker that never comes. The most important truth that I can relate to you, if you are hiding and waiting, is that the seeker is you and the world, behind so many walls, awaits.” ~ Vironika Tugaleva


I’ve caught myself waiting for someone else to awaken me, to make my life more interesting, comfortable, whole, alive. It can be a lonely place. While looking inside is powerful and freeing, it’s not always easy to see what’s there to be found.


* I took this photo on the streets of Ortygia (Syracusa), Sicily, Italy.


golden light


May Golden Light Fall Upon You

A golden light falls from the sky
Its rays beam down upon you
Their energy flows through you
Warming your cells with healing energy
Permeating your being with loving light


This poem came to me during a yoga practice that I had dedicated to a dear friend who was preparing for her first breast cancer chemotherapy treatment. As we were guided to envision a golden light moving through us, I felt a healing sensation as my imagination followed the shining light permeating my every cell. I wish my friend physical, mental, emotional, spiritual healing as her body accepts the healthy possibilities of her treatment.


* This photo was taken in Verbania, Italy as the sun was setting through the clouds over Lake Maggiore.

the gift of a delight-full soul

Carolyn & Charlie Akins







The Gift of a Delight-Full Soul

The peaceful drifting
of her delight-full soul
to a place beyond
strengthens the love
flowing between us.
In her honor
we fully embrace
the precious moments
we are given
to be together.


This poem is dedicated to Carolyn Akins who passed away March 17th, peacefully with her husband Charlie and her daughter Michele at her side. Charlie and Carolyn are dear friends of my Mom and Dad. They RV’d together, visiting new places, eating, dancing, shopping, and just hanging out together. I noticed how, through the difficult final weeks, my parents affection for each other grew even stronger – and I thought that was one of the most beautiful gifts Carolyn could leave. Rest in Peace, dear Carolyn.


Carolyn Smiling.PNG


* My mom took the photos in this post. The first is of Carolyn and Charlie at a dance and the latter is of the always smiling Carolyn bundling up to stay warm.

art of attention

Lustica Peninsula Montenegro.JPG

Another lovely invitation from John O’Donohue (from Anam Chara) which I first read on the Mindfulbalance blog. (Thank you, Karl, for making me aware of another lovely piece by this author.)

We should not force ourselves to change by hammering our lives into any predetermined shape. We do not need to operate according to the idea of a predetermined program or plan for our lives. Rather, we need to practice a new art of attention to the inner rhythm of our days and lives. This attention brings a new awareness of our own human and divine presence…if you work with a different rhythm, you will come easily and naturally home to yourself.  Your soul knows the geography of your destiny.  Your soul alone has the map of your future.  John O’Donohue


This seems a sage suggestion, especially since recently I retired from IBM. Instead of my work and leadership mostly determining the shape of my days, I have the opportunity to create my life, to really lean into manifesting an abundantly delicious life that is open with possibility. What a beautiful time to practice the art of attention, to listen for my  inner rhythm. The newfound space is quite special, although finding my rhythm is a journey and the path for coming home to myself is sometimes elusive.  🙂 Mr. Donohue’s wise words invite me to trust and be patient.


* I took this photo near Kotor, Montenegro on the Lustica Peninsula.


If you liked this, you may also be interested in these other posts featuring John O’Donohue’s work:

with the light of day

San Agustinillo MX9.JPG

I wrestled in the dark of night

With the light of day I quit the fight


There are just times when life is challenging. Sometimes the source is obvious – I can see it and others can as well. We can point to it and say – ah, yes, that is why you are feeling this way. At other times I can’t pinpoint the source of my malaise. It’s almost like all the cells in my body have conspired to set me straight – and I don’t even know how I’m off course. 🙂  Often a good night’s sleep will bring things back into balance. Sometimes it takes a good dose of sunshine, or friendship, or self-compassion.


* I took this photo on a fresh new day at sunrise on the beach at San Agustinillo, Mexico.

create a brighter world

Baltimore Ireland - White Donkey in the rain

Hearing to listen
Listening to understand
Understanding to act
Acting to create a brighter world

Have you ever noticed how you feel when you really listen to someone else? You know, when you are lost in their experience, totally immersed in what they are thinking, feeling, seeing. When I am ‘over there with another’, I feel alive and my heart is happy. I may be projecting but it seems when I set myself aside, I make the world a little brighter for whoever I am with.


* I took this photo in Baltimore, Ireland. The rain had stopped, sun was trying to break through the clouds, and this fella was listening attentively to my every word – and brightened my world.

rich lens of attention

Lakehouse Trees-Lake Koronis, Minnesota, 2015.jpg

Entering the Kingdom (excerpt) – Poem by Mary Oliver

…The dream of my life
is to lie down
by a slow river
and stare at the light in the trees –
to learn something by being nothing
a little while
but the rich lens of attention…


Mary Oliver is another one of my favorite poets. This poem was speaking to me lately, inviting me to slow down, to notice, to give my attention fully to the beauty before me.


* I took this photo at my friend’s lake house on Lake Koronis, Minnesota, where I’ve found myself staring into the light shining into and through these beautiful trees.

blushed with beginning

Like a Painting-Near Piazza Amerina, Sicily, Italy - Summer 2018.jpg

This poem is by one of my favorite poets, John O’Donohue (from Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings)

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.


This poem really speaks to me right now…

In a few weeks, I finish a 9-month sabbatical from IBM and officially retire from the company. (I celebrated my 20-year ‘Big Blue’ career earlier this week in Thank You, IBM.) While I am excited about my newfound freedom and the space for my creative energy to take new form, a sense of emptiness sits with me as I reflect on the opportunities and relationships that will no longer flow to me through my work. While I know amazing possibilities lie ahead, with even grander challenges and amazing people, a little piece of me feels like it is done, and that makes me sad, for that piece had so many moments of joy and fulfillment. Of course, I know that, whatever is dying will give life to something new – and stand in fresh pastures of promise, where the air will be kind, and blushed with beginning.


* I took this photo on the way to Piazza Amerina, Siciliy, Italy this past summer. The glimmers of green in the fields seem like blushes of beginning.

fully into the present



To feel the breeze on your tender skin
to hear the quiet sounds of living around you
to laugh out loud and sing the song in your heart…
the space invites a gentle grace and vibrant aliveness –
a contagiously thrilling and irresistible pull
to open fully into the present.


This poem is dedicated to my new friend Mary, a gentle spirit of a woman who was my next door neighbor on my latest holiday to San Agustinillo. During several of our conversations, she mentioned the spaciousness of being retired and this beautiful place in Mexico – each time was an invitation to lean into the possibilities opening before me.

Jim and I were grateful to have Mary and Kayleen as our neighbors. They were generous and open, sharing their food, experiences, and sweet dog Lucy visit with us. Such wonderful role models of relaxing into retirement and embracing someplace not-home as home (they were staying for 2 months). We hope we’ll be with them same place same time next year.


* I took the opening photo on the beach at San Agustinillo, Mexico at sunset. The closing photo is of sweet Lucy, who brought us many delightful moments.



dancing in circles
shining with vibrant aliveness
cycling into quiet darkness
moving in a cosmic rhythm
like a blossoming, dying
blossoming, dying


We’re deep into winter where I live. Outside the trees stand naked, While the day light hours are technically increasing, it is dark, and cold. This time of year, a kind of fading and hibernation happens. I turn inward, nourish myself, indulge in rejuvenating activities like cooking something delicious or curling up in a cozy chair to read. When spring comes, the trees bud in the warmth of the increasing sunlight. And, I too, move differently, feeling strong, energized, and ready to stretch into the growing light.

This poem is about the cyclical patterns I notice in my emotional experience. I am filled with joy and see abundant beauty, and then I feel sad or angry and life feels gray. Always, sitting in the darkness, light comes again – and through the light, gray approaches and pulls me into darkness. Over and over. Sometimes with so much space between them, sometimes with so little. I’m learning not to judge either one as good or bad, just ‘what is’. I’m discovering that when I sit long enough with any experience, it changes, morphs into what’s next, something else, something born from what has come before.


* The images at the opening of the blog are photos I took of a clematis vine that used to grow on the railing of my back deck – one when the blossoms were at their peak, and the other when their glory was fading.