Archives for the month of: May, 2016


A passage I recently read prompted this post. It expresses gratitude for friendship and the many ways that people walk with us through life.

Friends accompany us along differing paths and in differing depths. They have shared times that have been significant to us – difficult, perplexing, reflective, joyful and just plain fun. In that sense they represent chapters in our living history. They bring out the best in us and give us permission to be our “real” selves, even when it isn’t our best. They bear witness to who we are and what we are about.

I explored this theme in The Company of Friends, a post from this blog a year ago. Daphne Rose Kingma’s passage below brought it all back. Blessed are we who can acknowledge the gifts of our friends’ companionship.

Thank you for the circumstances that brought us together and have bound us into the sacred bundle of life. Thank you also for the gifts of our friendship: for knowledge that comforts, for words that encourage, for insight that blesses, for all the experiences shared, for the sweet bliss of deeply knowing each other in so many ways; for history and a hope of the future, for conversation and laughter, for silence, for bearing each other’s witness truly, for holding each other safe in our hearts with great love and tenderness.

Today is a good time to pause and give thanks for the friends in your world – maybe even contact them to tell them how much they mean to you.


I took this morning’s first sip of coffee on the porch overlooking the distant hills. Day light crept across the trees below casting shadows on the far side of emerging leaves. Birds sang their songs of a new day’s connection, and thoughts of a friend came to mind.

Once more he undergoes chemo, this time for a new cancer unrelated to the first. His is a warrior spirit. His life is filled with passion and directed by purpose. It is this energy that will see him through yet again.

A reading from A Grateful Heart introduced me to another warrior whose attitude toward her cancer over thirty years ago provides a life lesson for us all, regardless of our history or the circumstances we face today.

In the lines below Dawna Markova’s message is both elusively simple and intensely profound. Our task in life is twofold: to find our passion, what we care most deeply about, and to live our purpose, that which gives meaning to our being here. Our daily choices both shape and convey the ways we fulfill the task.

I will not die an unlived life. / I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days, / to allow my living to open me,

To make me less afraid, / more accessible, / to loosen my heart

until It becomes a wing, / a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance;

To live so that which came to me as seed

Goes to the next as blossom

And that which came to me as blossom,

Goes on as fruit.



As darkness descended outside last night, the conversation of our men’s gathering deepened in the room. A stillness wrapped itself around the words of those who spoke, hallowing the circle of our sharing.

Reflecting afterward on how we show up with ourselves and each other, one of the men forwarded the link to Krista Tippett’s interview with poet David Whyte from her series On Being. I listened to it this morning. It is a gift to share.

Of the many jewels in the podcast I have selected the poem below for this post. It serves as a reminder to myself and to many with whom I have worked that the darkness in our lives holds the promise of horizons we cannot see and challenges us not to settle for less than we are here to manifest.

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired / the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone / no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark / where the night has eyes / to recognize its own.

There you can be sure / you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb / tonight.

The night will give you a horizon / further than you can see.

You must learn one thing. / The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds / except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet / confinement of your aloneness / to learn

anything or anyone / that does not bring you alive / is too small for you.