Muerta is my favorite chicken. She’s called Muerta (Dead One) because, since she came here last summer, she has refused to sleep in the coop and will wander off for days at a time. I kept saying, “Oh shucks, I think the ugly little hen has been eaten,” and then she’d return. Anyway. She does
I’ve been thinking about what I’ll call the sneaky sins: complaining and worrying. And yeah, I mean sins—not in some heavy, moral, finger-pointing way. To me, a sin is anything that separates you from your vitality, your purpose, or the life you actually want to be living. In that sense, these two bad habits absolutely qualify.
Wait. What happened to Winter? Here at PrayerFarm, there is no going back. The robins are here again, the daffodils are going crazy and the tiny things, the greenest things, are rising. Just this morning, as the pink sky spread across the mountainscape, I realized that my refusal to welcome Spring was stunting joy for
Like all of us, I’ve been living inside some hard layers. Yesterday was the culmination of a long- standing challenge, and I could feel how worn down I was and tender in places I couldn’t quite wrap in the grace I strive for. I realized I was not going to be able to show up
Well, here we are, finally, really, in winter. The darkness will recede, but it will be quite a while before we feel the return of the light and the warmth of Spring… for me, with the holidays over, the real inward journey can finally begin… one of my contemplations in this season is about DISTORTION.
I am writing on my last day in my soul’s home here in Port Orford. Many of you have reached out, noting the silence from me—here’s my first newsletter in many months.
Why?
Well, I did something a little scary and a little crazy and took the entire summer off.
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This may be the final letters from this land — maybe there’s one more. Smoke arrived yesterday and the birds are quieter, dogs staying closer.
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