Between that first breath

And the last sigh

This cruel middle of living.

Asteroids, meteoroids, comets. Not separate things, but a shifting state of being. An asteroid can become a meteor. So can a comet. So can a meteoroid, if it crosses the right threshold. Who knew?

We don’t learn by collecting more knowledge. We learn by observing, enacting, embodying. We learn by being one with the process.

The round dome ceiling light in our bedroom,

like the harvest moon, set low—

just enough to keep the dark at bay.

You are a maker. A meaning-weaver. A ripple-starter.

For you, creativity isn’t a luxury. It’s not what you do in your spare time. It’s foundational to your existence.

I see you. I support you. I cheer you on.

Choose to introduce pause. Make something. Give it away.

My body has been forced into stillness, but my mind is a construction zone. Does anybody else relate?

I gaze through the window and see the sum of my parts reflected back.

My 10-year-old, packing her lunch this morning, ruminates:

“Why do some trees grow taller than others? It’s like people, isn’t it? Some grow fast. Some take time. Some stay small.”

I didn’t even know how to tie my shoelaces properly at 10. (Still don’t!)

Your invitation to the Ripple Room so we can talk about Surrender.

Everything is momentary like this burst of blue and the glaring sunlight … as the clouds part and gather again.

A crow flies by — swift as a thought from the past.

Little tokens of love for a Substack friend.

Now is always better than later.

Being human with each other is what lingers long after the moment has passed.

When people take kindness seriously

Tomorrow will come.

But will it be good?

Will it be civil?

Will kindness win?

Making watercolor tags isn’t hard

Spring evening on walnut floors

Long shadows, still

We rise together