While writing this, I looked out the window and saw the breeze carry the seeds of a nearby maple tree out over the yards. Tens and thousands of seeds. Perhaps a few hundred will sprout before being cut down by a lawn mower. Maybe two will take root between the fence and the wood pile and remain hidden long enough to grow until their stems shift from green to gray. It doesn’t matter. The tree produces and shares its seeds without knowing whether any of them will grow tall enough to produce their own seeds.
I started writing a blog in February 2010 thinking it would be a log of my urban gardening experiments. What it became was an intermittent account of my personal journey to find meaning for my life. At first I was so insecure in who I was that the slightest attention–positive or negative–knocked me off balance.
Over time, I have discovered not who I am, necessarily, but more of how I want to be in the world, what sparks my interest, what stuff is mine and what stuff belongs to others, who are the people who light me up and which ones try to steal my energy, and how to speak my truth.
My writing is the type I like to read: filled with details of my unique experience while through reflection being directly to connected to our universal human experience. I strive to be vulnerable without being confessional.
By organizing, categorizing, and synthesizing all that I read, watch, hear, and see I am able to create a feast with all of your favorite flavors combined in ways you may never have considered.
I am a finder of four-leaf clovers, lost wallets and keys, misplaced priorities, and, sometimes, I help people to remember who they really are and that they are not alone on this journey we call life.
We’re all just walking each other home. ~ Ram Dass