to burn, to exhume, to obliterate…

Photo by Joshua Wilson on Unsplash

the space. To connect.

At the end of the day, it is all about connection.

There is nothing in this world that can be more potent. This I realize now. I’ve known it forever but not in this life-affirming way that we all want to tear our hearts open and…

deet deet deet deet…

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

A solo chickadee is clearing his instrument — deet deet deet deet. The horizon is brightening in the far east. In an hour there will be an orchestra.

The Sun rises, delighted with the hum of the crickets, the canvas on which the sounds of nature rest. He raises his…

with a lake, a river; a plant, a flower

picture courtesy author

“The reward for attention is always healing. What is healed is the pain that underlies all pain; the pain that we are all, as Rilke phrases it, ‘unutterably alone.’ More than anything else, attention is an act of connection.” — Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way.

Heeding Thoreau’s advice of six…

brought to you by Keats, Ben, Mahler, and F. Scott Fitzgerald

youtube video courtesy Stephanie Taylor

“In themselves those eight poems are a scale of workmanship for anybody who wants to know truly about words, their most utter value for evocation, passion or charm. For a while after you quit Keats all other poetry seems to be only whistling or humming.”…

why you write

Photo by Neven Krcmarek on Unsplash

Writing reveals yourself to you, like a flower reveals itself to a seed.

The seed lies inside, untapped, unopened, unprodded. Given the right conditions you write, the seed is tapped, it opens, it moves, it grows into a plant with roots, a stem, and moves about.

The longing stops, and…

dare to walk alone…

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

We may be close in terms of physicality and day to day proximity, but as we sit at the same table and share the same meal, what we feed our heart and mind is surely different based on what we consume mentally, what we seek to consume based on our…

Photo by Alisa Olaivar on Unsplash

Blessed are these hands that hug my children, embrace my people, interlace my fingers with mom’s.

Blessed are these hands that dig the earth, feel the soil it holds, let it fall through the fingertips.

Hands that stroke the delicate petals, lift them close to shower in their morning sprinkles…

30 buds and counting — photo by author

Six Word Photo Story: Freestyle

Radhika Iyer

“Skill perfected over many births is talent.”

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