the last days of february bring with them an ennui, a longing. a yen for color and life and warmth. elsewhere in the country, signs of spring begin to emerge: green shoots, buds swelling on trees, perhaps even a flower. as another snow squall descends, blotting out the world, one line from robert service loops through my mind: “the white land locked tight as a drum.” even in this, though, the signs–subtle as they may be–are there. the extra minutes of morning light, the dry p

My experience of late, and that of many others with whom I’ve talked, is one of time hurtling forward. Faster and faster. Dizzying and relentless. Defying nearly all efforts to rein it in. One thing I’ve found allows me to pull back just a bit. To pause. To notice the moment and savor it. And that is ritual. Not elaborate or time-consuming ritual (indeed that’s the very thing I am trying to avoid—the rapid consumption of time). Rather: ritual as slow, mindful attentiveness

Walking along an ice rink road riddled with puddles, there is a whisper in the air; an undercurrent. Spring is not here yet in the north country, but there is a promise in the breeze. Hold on just a little longer, says the wind to the buds that have begun to swell on the trees. The morning sunlight has shifted, now angling gold through the bay window. I look up and a bald eagle soars overhead, low enough that i can hear each wingbeat. vanilla caramel cashew buckwheat clusters

Years ago, I had a word-of-the-day calendar.  I love this idea, this ritual of bringing a new concept into the everyday.  Of diving into the depths of language and storytelling and perceptions of consciousness.  I love losing myself in books, poems, songs; strings of words woven together to produce a richly colored tapestry of the human experience.  I love how lyrics and prose can transport, can switch on the projector inside the brain–or perhaps it’s the soul–and spin reel u

I am a morning person.  The first few hours after waking are, to me, the most perfect and pure part of the day.  Everything is new: the air is fresh, the slate is clean, and it is blessedly quiet.  No clutter, no chatter, no chaos. The moments of morning are sacred.  They offer the opportunity to set an intention and tone for the day.  For me, part of setting that intention and tone flows from the meditation of the morning ritual: rising with the sun (at least now, as we enjo