“The places where we are seen and heard are holy places. They remind us of our value as human beings. They give us the strength to go on.” Rachel Naomi Remen Living with our friends on Butterstone Farm was comfortable. So comfortable that there was...
“Writers often experience exhilaration, fear, or dread… It’s both exciting and dangerous.” Kristjana Gunnars Have you always dreamt of being a writer? Have you often felt like...
We usually think of writing as a solitary activity. The stereotypical image of a writer is a tortured soul, often a man, at their desk with a cigarette in one hand, a glass of vodka in the other. In between sips and puffs the man’s hand types away on a keyboard....
Experience writing as a catalyst for personal growth, creative self-expression and mutual support. Discover a place of connection and belonging in a circle of creative inspiration and compassionate witness. Through the four practices of Writing Alone Together, you...
Love is Like This is 20 tracks of poetry from the heart. Here’s the video poem for track 18 – Clouds & Mozart. Love is Like This evokes the dance of relationship. From the intimacy of first crush to sweet and sour memories of kisses, the joy of conjugal...
One of the greatest gifts that you can bring to your journal writing is your own inward permission to write freely.~Stephanie Dowrick As I sit here and start to write these words, I feel a knot of tension in my solar plexus, and nudges of anxiety in my lower belly....
As I was poring through some old journals recently, I stumbled upon this entry from journal #16. Such a hesitancy to start again. How long has it actually been since I’ve been here. It seems like forever. How quickly I forget the path, when I stray from its marked...
Yesterday I wrote a very short story about a girl who was wide-awake. Today I fell into a deep sleep again. And now, with these words, the light turns on. I am flowing. Sometimes I can’t believe how much our bodies experience. Stress, the way it hovers in the chest, a...
Stuff goes into the writer, a whole lot of stuff, not notes in a notebook but everything seen and heard and felt all day every day, a lot of garbage, leftovers, dead leaves, eyes of potatoes, artichoke stems, forests, streets, rooms in slums, mountain ranges, voices,...
A human being is a part of a whole, called by us “universe”, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest… a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison...
In March, I was invited to UBC to participate in a panel on “Jobs Outside Academia” for students in the faculty of education. A friend and colleague, Heather Duff, suggested to the organizing committee that I be a part of the conversation because of the...
I give births. I enjoy giving births. Helene Cixous Everything is alive now. Spring brings permission to begin, again. A fresh perspective, as if we could be virgin, (re)newed. This past weekend saw me fulfill a dream, long ago hatched. A dream begun inwhen I first...
This week’s post is a favourite passage from Nancy Houston’s exquisite novel An Adoration, in which the character Fiona says: Mama claims that people can’t exist in and of themselves, they’re a patchwork of everything they’ve seen and done, their heads are teeming...
It is difficult, this practice of loving. It takes effort, diligence, vigilance as much as heart, the willingness to stay with it. I have been watching my mind spin out in so many directions, feeling terribly ungrounded and afraid. I have been struggling with old...
I had the spent the morning in the garden. After a rainy night the farm was covered with a spring mist that sparkled. Despite that I consider myself a fair weather gardener, I had made a commitment to plant greens that day and was determined to keep it. On went the...
Winter has resumed here on the West Coast. After a few weeks of glorious sunshine, the rains have returned and with them, the nearly impenetrable fog. However, if there is one thing for certain about the weather, it always changes. When we resist change, we create...
I feel down low and I know I should just go to bed, it’s late and the sound of the fridge humming is the only accompaniment to these words. If I could I’d sing slow down you move too fast, but change the morning tomoment in the next line then thank simon and garfunkel...
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