Reflections

Be freeway now
cascading over sun-bleached hills
into the restless city
digest the swelter the 
glare of glass and steel...

As I sit here looking through my living room window in the early morning, gathering my thoughts for the day, I’m watching the birds in my yard—just sitting there, being birds. And I’m reminded again of the importance of beingness, of living from the true identity, the true self we were created to embody.

Revulsion is not my instinctive response when someone confides their image of Love. But when she said, “I think of Love—big, universal Love—as couch grass,” I grimaced. Because I detest couch grass.

Tools for Carrying the Burdens of a Hostile World. By Paula Pryce photo by Yassir Abbas   Part Two:  Intentional Suffering   Traffic in Boston is mythic. People racing, gesticulating, and jockeying in whatever way possible. Rules are optional, it seems, and civility? Well – I’ve often thought Boston traffic to be the perfect microcosm of the get-ahead society. Here are a few of the images seared into my mind: A father with a carload of toddlers drives onto the sidewalk to jump the queue and...

Every night at 8 p.m., after the war began, Pope Francis called Holy Family Church in Gaza. Every night until he drew his last breath, Francis faithfully picked up the phone and checked in.

I haven’t been able to get this picture out of my head....