Storms can help remind us of our place in the world. In the broader scheme of this planet, we are small and young. And each of us … we are smaller still. Life brings us storms, both literal and metaphorical. And with them, a choice. We can hunker down and ride them out. Or we can lean in and let them wash over us. I don’t believe there’s a default best way. Not for me. Each...


I’m learning to show up to my life with more openness. Openness to things being as they are, in no need of “fixing.” A good place to start. Acceptance. Being open to letting go what doesn’t serve me anymore, even if it once did. And openness to things I enjoy even now giving way in order to create space for something better than I could ever imagine. Because I can see that...

We Are Many

I love this beautiful and empowering yet somewhat tortured poem from Pablo Neruda as a reminder that I’m not alone, that we’re not alone, in self-doubt and feelings of struggle. Of feeling disconnected from ourselves. Of feeling so far away at times in our ongoing discovery of who we are, who we’ve been, who we want to be, who we can be. You are seen, friend. We Are Many by...


Here’s another poem from Edwin Markham, Oregon Poet Laureate from 1923 through 1931.


by Edwin Markham

For all your days prepare,
  And meet them ever alike:
When you are the anvil, bear—
  When you are the hammer, strike. Read More


This poem was published in 1916 in American Indian Magazine by Arthur Caswell Parker, who was of Seneca descent. Faith by Arthur Caswell Parker There is a faith that weakly dies When overcast by clouds of doubt, That like a blazing wisp of straw A vagrant breeze will flicker out.  Be mine the faith whose living flame Shall pierce the clouds and banish night, Whose...

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