Autumn Journal: Golden Hour

Sunrise sets the valley ablaze—trees become torches, a doe turns to gold, and birds fill the air with coins of sound. And then… rain. Silence. Letting go. This reflection is about how beauty arrives without warning, and departs without apology. And how, in its passing, it burns with the brilliance of the eternal.

Autumn Journal: Yellowjacket

Today felt like summer. The maple leaves burned red, and hornets circled the last tomatoes. This reflection is about the dying members of a broken home — their hunger, their panic, their separateness. And how, if we look closely, we might see something familiar in their flight. Chasing sweetness. Fearing frost.

Autumn Journal: Kindness

Five hours of daylight have slipped away since midsummer. Deer eat bark. The sun arrives later. Steam lifts from my coffee, then disappears. This reflection is about winter’s quiet shift— how we adapt, how we endure, how everything falls and rises again. There is nothing to fear. The leaf drifts down. The breath fades. And still, the light shines through everything.

Autumn Journal: What Remains is Radiant

One year ago today, I began this journal. Today I finish, while I have the strength to do it well. The year’s circle is complete. My final reflection is about the freedom of release. About how letting go becomes the blessing. About how, in the unclenching, we discover what remains. And what remains is radiant.

Afterward: Radiant Book Giving

Over the past five years of living with illness, I’ve developed a renewed appreciation for the value of books— audio and print—as companions, counselors, teachers, and friends. This appreciation is especially relevant for those of us living with conditions like ALS, and to individuals in hospitals, long-term care facilities, rehabilitation centers, emergency housing, correctional settings, […]

Afterwards : Saint Lucy’s Day

December 13th marked Santa Lucia Day— the quiet celebration of a child carrying light into the dark. This reflection is about waiting, tending, enduring. Not rushing to joy, but honoring the long night that makes it necessary. The small flame matters most before it becomes a fire. This season, don’t skip to the ending. Carry the candle. Sit with the dark.

Twilight Journal