You must be …

You must be the person you have never had the courage to be. Gradually, you will discover that you are that person, but until you can see this clearly, you must pretend and invent.

– Paulo Coelho


currently reading The Alchemist 


We have been called …

We have been called to heal wounds, to unite what has fallen apart, and to bring home those who have lost their way.

– St. Francis of Assisi

A strong case against “not my circus, not my monkeys.”

One of the most …

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.

– Clarissa Pinkola Estés

A Prayer for All Who Work in Hospice

May the passion you have for life fire the compassion you have for others.

May you know that when you do small things with great love you change lives.

May the blessings you receive mean more than the hours you work.

May you remember to keep both feet on the ground while tending to those who have one foot in heaven.

May you be grateful that your encounter with death and dying brings you a deeper appreciation of life and living.

May you never lose sight of the fact that it’s not the length but the depth of life that really matters.

May your work be grounded in the knowledge that grief is the emotional, physical and spiritual price you pay for the priceless gift of love, and that the only cure for grief is grieving.

May you know that while no one may build a monument in your name, the way you make your mark in this life is by erasing the frown on someone’s brow.

And, may you start each day remembering the last words spoken by Steve Jobs before he died:  “Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!”


– Elizabeth Kaeton

from “Eventual Proteus”

I held you through all your shifts of structure: While your bones turned from caved rock back to marrow, the dangerous fur faded to hair,
the birds cry died in your throat,
the tree bark paled from your skin,
the leaves from your eyes.

– Margaret Atwood


We opened the door to the fairy house
& took our tea on matching pebble seats.
Somehow we got out of there alive

though something crystalline of us
remains in that dark, growing its facets.
We opened the door to the fairy house

at the oak’s black ankle. You asked
What could happen? as you disappeared
somehow. We got out of there alive

the strange tea still warm in our bellies.
Inside, our hosts gave damn few answers.
Who built that door? Is this a fairy house?

They had no faces yet. We spoke
into their quince-bud ears. You wept.
Somehow we got out of there alive

though we didn’t quite return. Our life
is different now we’ve drunk the tea.
They’re alive somehow. I got us out.
Why did you open the door to the fairy house?

– Kiki Petrosino