Garden at twilight. Everything pruned back cleared out. No barren wasteland. There’s fecundity in this emptiness. Seemingly harsh cuts make room to grow. Resting in a space of gratitude for the sharp edge of shears.
“My friend, wait by the wayside. Linger a while by the wayside and see, I’ll come wandering by there in no time. Wait by the wayside for me.” I’m so drawn by the call of these lines in the opening of Scott Cook’s song Wayside. I’ve been lying these hot summer nights, staring at the … More Wandering Wayside…
“A pen tried to write the word LOVE and it broke” There are no words for this And still my mind reaches out tries to grasp tries to express . Stretched thin in its desperation Like travelling at light speed the past and future pulled apart Lost in the space between . There are no … More Sohbet – There Are No Words
I have a friend who works as a chaplain providing spiritual support for people in mental health crises – as an aside, I’ve been wondering what the difference is between a spiritual crisis and a psychiatric one, but that’s a whole different article. Anyway, he was telling me about someone who asked him what he … More The Space Between the Notes