Beauty comes to me as a love letter. Unfolding it, something enfolds me, and I cannot move past it. I am held by sight, sound and touch, sometimes even by a scent of something so lovely moving on is simply impossible. I must pause from whatever I am doing, wherever I am going. I must … More Is it not enough?
I didn’t even see the wolves when I first entered their space. My eyes were on the walls, scanning the canvases that hung there: two or three per wall, large canvases that commanded attention. The wolves were much smaller — slivers of sculpted steel, and not at all expected. How easy it is to miss … More Unsettled
For the past six years I have been part of a writers’ group that meets about once every six weeks in the dining room of my condo building. It is place of honest conversation, lots of questions, tears, laughter, applause. It always feels like a sacred space to me. We choose a word, a question … More Do things happen for a reason?
Lynda MacGibbon 