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Conversations in the Garden: On Perspective

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.” ~Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden     For me, I would say the world IS a garden.  A big, beautiful garden full of...

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Fearless Living

“Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment. We feel...

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Poetry Sunday-Finding My Core

    Finding My Core     I stand here at my center while all around me seems to be falling apart. Senseless violence. Memories of loved ones, now gone, bubble up to open the wounds of my heart.     And...

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Poetry Sunday-Inner Critic

    Inner Critic     Inner Critic (IC)~You can do better, Donna.   You know and so do I.   I don’t want to hear excuses.   I just want to see results.     My dear Inner Critic, I know you mean well,...

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Poetry Sunday: Savoring

    Savoring   For me, food was always an after thought.  Something I had to have to fuel my growing, in-constant-motion- child’s body.  Grabbing a bowl of cereal here and there; a quick sandwich....

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Poetry Sunday: Outside The Box

    Outside The Box     Soften the edges Erase the boundaries Ease out to see the light.     Release the strings And drop the hard surfaces Holding you in so tight.     Kick aside the rubble Of your...

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Poetry Sunday: Given Freely

  Given Freely   Sometimes in the most hurried, stressful situations, it is worth our while to remember that a smile can light up our world….it can light up the whole world.  One small act of kindness,...

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Poetry Sunday: Dear Truth

  Dear Truth   Dear Truth:   My goodness I was glad to see you!   To speak your name~well rant it for a good, almost, 10 minutes.   You shook me upside down when I heard you speak.  And rung my...

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Poetry Sunday: The Drought

  The Drought   Clouds drift along in the blue-grey sky, Words and phrases obscuring the sun. Drifting in and out of my consciousness, Not wanting to be captured on paper.     I am like the earth and...

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Poetry Sunday: The Wild Child

The Wild Child   A wild, playful child alone in her world A digger of the earth joined in its holy sepulcher, In solitude she finds her truth Becomes her most vulnerable self Belongs not to the world,...

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