When the road is dusty, narrow and endless, stop looking for the big answer. The finish line is too far away. 

Start looking for the small, repetitive, encouragements. Name them, write them down, gather them close. 

THIS is what ushers in the new season, the path to the new horizon. When there is no relief from daily grind, we must notice each time peace settles, even for a second. 

These small moments must be celebrated. Acknowledged. They are not insignificant. That can not be taken for granted. 

For they WILL usher in the new season. They will quicken your steps, and bring the horizon into focus. 

Try it. See for yourself, how the road opens up.

Flash Fiction 100

Do you remember what you told me?

You said that every dark moment had something to offer. You told me not to fight so hard, but to spend that energy searching for fuel. Fuel for the future. The future I wanted, and the one I didn’t. You said these new memories would fortify my resolve, (and they did). You told me to embrace my dark moments, to stare them down until peace rushes in, and that when it did, (and it always does), the way forward would be clear. 

You were right. About everything. 

Your words made all the difference.

The never ending cycle of the same daily dayness

Diving deep into more of the same sameness 

Life is nothing more than repetition 

The never ending cycle of the same daily dayness

Endless doing over

Sleep, food, love, work, 


What sameness will sweep us up until all the hours are gone?

The choices we have chosen

Everything and nothing

The endless doing over

What sameness will fill every moment?

The choices we first let choose us

The silence and distraction

Everything and nothing

Attention Seeks You (not the other way around)

I see you with your dancing smile and wide eyes 

I see you with your history stretching way back to where it shouldn’t be 

I see you with your hand extended and your heart outstretched 

I see your broken spirit held together how no one knows 

I see you haven’t shattered yet (and if you keep holding tight you just might make it) 

I see your empty glass and endless winding class 

I see the force field you hang around your neck 

I see how it all adds up to beauty and a whole lot of hope 

I see that little bit of prayer 

I see the way you look so far past and deep there are no names left to tell

How to hear your hearts desire

It’s true, she said, your heart can’t lie. But have you noticed?

Noticed what? 

In order to hear your hearts desire, you need to get really quiet. 

That makes sense. 

It’s not the beat that you need to listen to. It’s the sound in between. That’s where the truth lies. Deep and in between. Not the thump and flare and noise. Not the pound. The lump swallowed deep and stuck. Or the flutter sweet and welcome. All of that is just distraction. Or reaction. It’s life not truth. 

Her eyes hold mine until I nod. 

It’s that brief space, that impossible moment where it can all just stop. And what if it does?What if that was the last beat of your heart? 

I wait, breath held tight. 

Well, she said, in that space. In that moment. You will know what matters. You will know the truth. You will know it exists. It’s just very hard to hear. 

All that is Not


on my list (that is not written down)

words chosen carefully (that I did not say)

I thank you

for all you choose not to do

(gratitude) for words unsaid

unexamined thoughts 

and all that is left undone

even though no one will ever know (not ever)

and there can be no applause

for all that is not

surely the God of all that is undone 

takes stock

the only one interested

his list like precious jewels (if only we could see it)

the one who hears the words unsaid (the hate unvented)

he is worthy of praise and the first to refrain

Attention Seeker – woman with no name

Her blink was slow. So was the way she turned her head, waiting a beat for the rest of her body to catch up. A haze of numbness and all her edges sanded back. A combination of plastic surgery and medication. Impossible to guess her age, the slow motion aged her though, even more than the young woman clothes. She claimed 53, which had to be a lie. Could anyone else tell? Did anyone else notice?

Attention Seeker – and the lemon tree

My lemon tree is not beautiful. Nor is it bountiful. But this year, it grew a small crop of lemons.  

Have you ever held a freshly picked lemon in two hands? Have you ever spent time just breathing it in? Five deep breaths to awaken more than just your nose. 

The simple beauty and equality of scent. The wonder of growth. The awe that even though I didn’t nurture this tree, it still bore fruit. 

Magic right there in my back yard. Magic right there in my two hands. And magic when I take five deep breathes and a moment to consider.