This fall and winter, I am inviting two new words to guide my creative life: attention and mischief.

Hello friends,

The air is soft with early morning birdsong as I write with a half-cup of coffee nestled in my lap. I'm sitting on the big madrone tree at Seward Park again, feeling appreciative just to be breathing.

The clouds burst a moment ago with a spring rain shower. I only know because I can hear drops hitting the broad maple leaves that form a protective canopy over my journaling session. I am safe here…

Mid-February is here and I am exhaling. Over and over, as if by doing this enough times slowly I can release every micron of tension-residue from every cell in my body. The days are getting lighter, and it (mostly) feels like it's working.

One of my saving graces this year has been an enormous Madrone that fell in the park near my home. Surrounded by old growth, I go there Saturday mornings to sit on the three-foot-thick trunk and breathe. Stretching the muscles of my screen-weary eyes I look up, left, down, right. Birds whisper, the scent of cedar cleanses, and once a coyote spirited by. We looked at each other for a long moment, suspended. The year has been strange.

When I last wrote to you it was January and now it's May and the peonies are blooming. So much has happened. My world has changed, our world has changed.

Hello sweet friends, I'm writing to you from a Saturday afternoon in mid-January, where the light is ever so perceptibly beginning to return. I noticed it two days ago. Morning light came a little sooner and evening arrived a little later. The thin snow melted and something stirred inside me--like a seed roused beneath the soil…

The holidays are coming and I know the more I can fill my cup with rest now, the better prepared I will be to surf all the emotions with grace and love and maybe even ease. I'm keeping a late-autumn rest rhythm that is simple. Eight steps:

I took a solo retreat last weekend to focus on writing. It's been a couple of years since I did this, and to be perfectly honest it was a mixed bag.

I have some exciting news that falls under the category of "it's about time." We are officially sending Issue Three of Lucia to print next week. It will be available to purchase--and mailed to you if you are one of our subscribers--this September.

Have you ever found yourself falling in love with a whole new color? I don't just mean a new shade or subtle gradation of an old favorite…

Dear ones, Friday morning I had an Alexander Technique lesson and at the end my teacher told me about a book she is reading which explores why patriarchy persists. What intrigued me was what it said about voice. The author ascribes power to the way we learn--from childhood--to use our voice…

Dear ones, I’ve been photographing the light again and thinking of each of you with so much love and gratitude. It has been several months since I sent an email, and there’s a lot to share…

The last seven months have been a journey. All the elements of a story and I have been wanting to share writing about it—it’s not time yet but maybe soon.

I've started taking Alexander Technique lessons. It is a way of learning how to move more mindfully and inhabit the body with greater ease.

There is a jar in my home filled with coins. Occasionally a $20 or $100 bill goes in. These large bills never stay long, though. They come and go, as real money tends to do. The change is the only constant. It reminds me that change accumulates slowly, piece by piece, until one day we look and see what it has become: enough. Enough of what we need. Enough of what we don’t. Enough is enough.

I've been practicing a new thought upon waking: "There is enough time. I have enough time. I have enough."