When my sorrow rises, it is not a sign of breaking but of remembering.

The wind, the stones, the waters, they each know how to hold what my body cannot carry alone,

and they do so without judgment. In this way, grief becomes a sacred crossing,

a threshold where love continues its long echo through me.

~d.s.

when it’s time to move into a new season….

inquiry for today~ may it be ok to not be ok…

finishing the old ways…..

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.

~Mary Oliver