Watering holes and winning at things…..

There was something remarkable about his things, how they stood like soldiers at attention, like lines in an abstract painting,  placed by a master of scale. The father of my childhood would adjust and arrange the things in our world, furiously bringing order to the pantry,  the closets,  the wrapping paper supplies. His garage was…

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Healing in harsh places……

I’ve been living into some larger parts, spreading wings in gimpy places and letting raw things speak until old shame bleeds through. It’s a shiver to stand in the open like that, leaning brave into the hope that gentle ears will hear it true and hold it tender while the knife slices clean. Healing often happens in such ways. But…

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