Autumn Newsletter: Apprenticing with Slowness

It is deep Autumn in the Pacific Northwest. My intention was to write this newsletter soon after the equinox passed, but enamored with cooler and shorting days, Leaves riotous shift in color schemes, Rain’s thunderous return and my own deepening “apprenticeship with slowness,” one week fell into another and, well, here we are.

My body exhaled when Summer finally left the scene (though there was a pale pink Rose in the neighborhood that was still offering spicy, peppery scents until it was cut back to my astonishment just a few days ago. After all, I wasn’t done with my daily “sniffs.”) Summer was difficult for me. I wrote about my malaise on Substack: “merging with the deepening of autumn.” These days Sun skims morosely along the Tree line as if annoyed at not being the star of the show. On cloudless days, Sun glares through windshields and shows all the dirty streaks on kitchen windows, a reminder of its brilliance. And I appreciate its gentle warming of my abode. No need to turn on the heat. We call a truce.

Summer Newsletter: Navigating Summer with Grief

In my neighborhood we are now fully into the rhythm of Summer. Those frenetic mating Bird songs of Spring that precede Sun’s early risings have eased into parental lessons. They tend toward later starts and a softer urgency. There is so much as a parent to be exampled on top of the instinctual nature hatched in the chicks! And as mid-July crests, I imagine those who hatch two families each Summer have already fledged brood number one and are well on the way to parenting number two.

Summer Solstice Newsletter: Wonder, Awe, and Beauty as Spiritual Practice

Spring was on the horizon when I last checked in and now the Summer Solstice is here and the Strawberry Full Moon will rise low in the sky tomorrow evening. The Japanese Cherry blossoms that dazzled in April are a mere memory, as are the pink delights of Dogwoods’ bracts. Rhododendrons and Peonies, always up to the astonishment challenge, too have faded. Fortunately an array of Roses have stepped in, scenting the air with both spicy and sweet aromatics. And my lips are stained red with Farmers’ Market bounty of Strawberries, Cherries, and Raspberries. We have crossed over into a most delicious time of year.

Anne Richardson

June 6, 2022

Ancestral Journey, Beauty, Gratitude, Grief, Kindness, My Mentor Stillness, Pilgrimage, Sojourn, sojourn home, spiritual journey, Stillness

Sojourning with Stillness: Collaborating with Kindness

Anne Richardson

June 6, 2022

Ancestral Journey, Beauty, Gratitude, Grief, Kindness, My Mentor Stillness, Pilgrimage, Sojourn, sojourn home, spiritual journey, Stillness

three weeks in. three weeks into this sojourn and. three weeks and a few days into this sojourn and Stillness finally said “you are making this more complicated than it needs to be.” let me back up to where i left off in my last blog post, “Disconnected.”

after i left my West Highland Way (WHW) companions, it took a couple of days to exhale and expand into my own space again. my roommate was lovely. she would make a “cuppa” at the end of every day for both of us. we were both respectful of the space we shared and made a genuine connection (and are remaining in contact)—so perhaps my perception of connection needed to shift? what was i focusing on? at that point on the journey, my perceptions were more like a kaleidoscope shifting moment-by-moment. no wonder Stillness was waiting to offer insights.

Anne Richardson

March 23, 2022

Beauty, Covid-19, dementia, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, Healing, Hope, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Poetry, Seasons, Sojourn, spiriutal companionship, Grief Literacy

Lessons from the Pandemic: Stories Grief Weaves

Anne Richardson

March 23, 2022

Beauty, Covid-19, dementia, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, Healing, Hope, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Poetry, Seasons, Sojourn, spiriutal companionship, Grief Literacy

Spring has begun in earnest in the Pacific Northwest. Daffodils are in yellow and orange abundance. Plum and cherry trees blushing to life. And Daphne’s aroma intoxicating for blocks on end. Blue sky, dry days are joy, sun warming Earth and skin. Rain is gentle, coming and going as tide. We need each drop to recover from a lingering drought. That the rain falling off-and-on this week without a storm’s full-on bluster is gift. No flooding.

Spring’s energy has been rising for weeks and after two years of all the upheaval Covid has wrought, there is a giddiness in the air of hope that the worse is behind us, even as more chapters are being written. At least that is what the birds are singing. Or…it is mating season?

Anne Richardson

June 16, 2021

Beauty, Breathing, Covid-19, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, Healing, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Poetry, Trauma

Lessons from the Pandemic: Where's the Grief?

Anne Richardson

June 16, 2021

Beauty, Breathing, Covid-19, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, Healing, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Poetry, Trauma

An invitation. A plea. Please, what ever you are doing in this moment—stop. Take a minute. Two. A half-hour. More. Breathe deeply if you are able. Too much? Then shallow, light breaths. Pants. Sips of air. If that is all your body can handle—take that in and then let those molecules slip out between your lips, one-by-one. Slide back in. Slow yourself down. Please. No hurry to read the rest of this blog. Set your phone down. “Sleep” your computer. Take time to nurture your soul. My words will be waiting. Step away for a spell and I’ll reconnect with you in a while…

Anne Richardson

May 7, 2020

Covid-19, My Mentor Grief, spiritual journey, Belonging, Beauty, Thresholds, awakening, Grief

Lesson From My Mentor, Grief: Sitting With Discomfort While Embracing Beauty

Anne Richardson

May 7, 2020

Covid-19, My Mentor Grief, spiritual journey, Belonging, Beauty, Thresholds, awakening, Grief

Tulips began erupting from their sleek oval bulbs in April. Long stems hugged by thick winged leaves, one flower per stem. Colors the pastel pink of tongues, the vibrant red of heartbeats, the cream of moonbeams, the yellow of lemon drops held in cupped hands. Tulips surpassing their daffodil bulbed relations with a flourish by month’s end. One completing their laborious cycle, having awakened in late winter with tips barely gracing the earth to now drooping in browned petaled demise, waiting to fall back into dormancy. The other, as their cycle nears completion, throws open their petals with wild abandon, tossing them to the ground one-by-one leaving the stem bewildered, naked for all to see. Daffodils, my heart flower, resonates with the steadfastness that is the root of me. And yet, in slowing my pace during this pandemic time, the allure of tulips is calling to the wild in me. A wild that keeps bobbing to the surface with greater frequency with each passing year.

Sojourning with Stillness: Collaborating with Kindness

Lessons from the Pandemic: Stories Grief Weaves

Lessons from the Pandemic: Where's the Grief?

Lesson From My Mentor, Grief: Sitting With Discomfort While Embracing Beauty

Subscribe

Get in touch

For Individuals

For Professionals

Labyrinth

Helpful

Social