Hope is the belief that one hand reaching to another can eventually touch the moon, allowing the light to guide us through the night. by Nicholas Mazza In this week before COP26 starts, I found myself reflecting on hope, where to find it when it feels illusive, and on the role it plays in…
You keep waiting for something to happen, the thing that lifts you out of yourself, catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off the great things you’re meant to do in your life, but somehow never quite get to. You keep waiting for the planets to shift the new moon to bring news,…
Imagine you wake up with a second chance: The blue jay hawks his pretty wares and the oak still stands, spreading glorious shade. If you don’t look back, the future never happens. How good to rise in sunlight, in the prodigal smell of biscuits – eggs and sausage on the grill. The whole sky is…
Wake up. Day calls you to your life: your duty. Tear your body from the black night and the shadows that covered it, this body for which light waited on tiptoe at dawn. Stand up, affirm the straight, simple will to be perfect, unbent purity. Touch the temple of your body. Is it hot? Cold?…
What would happen if we removed the word ‘anxious’ and just paid attention to these flickering sensations in the belly? What would happen if we took away the concept ‘lonely’ and simply became fascinated with this heavy feeling in the heart area? What would happen if we deleted the labels ‘sick’ or ‘broken’ or ‘bad’…
What if there is no need to change? No need to transform yourself Into someone who is more compassionate, more present, more loving, or wise? How would this affect all the places in your life where you are endlessly trying to be better, or different? What if the task is simply to unfold To become…
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover and every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful will emerge, battered and beautiful When day comes we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid The new dawn blooms as we free it For there is always light, if…
And if I speak of Paradise, then I’m speaking of my grandmother who told me to carry it always on my person, concealed, so no one else would know but me. That way they can’t steal it, she’d say. And if life puts you under pressure, trace its ridges in your pocket, smell its piney…
Breathe, said the wind How can I breathe at a time like this, when the air is full of the smoke of burning tires, burning lives? Just breathe, the wind insisted. Easy for you to say, if the weight of injustice is not wrapped around your throat, cutting off all air. I need you to…