I’m beginning to realize something. Life everywhere exists in layers. Layers of rock and hardened lava beneath our feet. Layers of color in a dancing autumn leaf. Layers of fur […]
When we’re weighed down by fear and anxiety, it’s too easy focus on the danger of open doors.
Remember Friday the 13th? The only thing worse than an unlucky Friday is an unlucky Monday.
Change is on my doorstep. She’s been there for some time, promising to push with gale force winds and flood the foundations if I don’t let her in.
My philosophy has always been to live with “childish enthusiasm,” but this year was one filled with hard work.
Each term in a mother’s growth is challenging and rewarding, beyond imagination. Her body changes. Her mind changes. Her heart triples in size.
A woman with her chest bared, depicted in a classic painting, was giving life to both a young child and the world in which we live today. In Greek mythology, this woman was credited with giving birth to the Milky Way.
It wasn’t until the small hours of the night that I picked up my research into folklore and mythology, and dug into a creation myth to understand how one tribe perceived the Northern Lights.
For nearly two and a half years, I’ve been frequenting these secret societies, where everyone dons a funny hat and picks up a quill pen, then delves deep into the human condition, trying to unravel the mysteries of life.
With the cold and cloudy arrival of 2016, I completed one lifelong goal and drifted into a more meditative phase.