Liminal entreaties to knowings  and understandings  that blaze in their absence,  ungraspable,  they gawp in their vacuumed void,  swimming ...

If, for most of my days  alive upon this earth I had been swallowed  by an impotent collapse, how would I rise  into generative purpose with...

Fierce protection, unfathomable care and unequivocal tenderness  for all the precious children of our world. May we Centre the needs of the ...

RELECTIONS ON CLAY AND THE CRAFT FROM ARTISANS WEEK 2023 Working with clay has been for me a making and a shaping, a breaking and a recreati...

About a month ago I had a dream that I had lost my child. It was conveyed to me that he had died, but I felt nothing, it was as though I was...

 

This is a love poem to a way of witnessing that is an antidote to shame. You come like a quenching rain  on ground so dry its brittleness is...

Today not much is making sense. The way I am made seems unfit for this world, even for this life,  this, my very own life. And my heart hurt...

My little family is traversing a very tender threshold as we seek to deeply listen, with our treasured four legged friend, to come to an und...

Artisan's Week We are nestled here between mountains. Our valley nestled like a bowl, a vessel, between mountains. The vessel of our val...