Pause, Because


Each year in winter, I love this day when the snow hangs on the remnant crab apple tree near my window. Something in it stills me, when the winter weather invokes a slower pace, and perhaps another kind of noticing beauty.

I’m grateful to those of you who read and reflect on what I share. Human to Human names a tone that I’m most drawn to in my facilitation, and, well, in this life that I get to live. I enjoy offering some wonder from the wander to help individuals and groups be  imaginative, smart, kind, and curious together — in the name of what they most care about.

Wishing all a meaningful holiday season, in whatever ways you celebrate. Wishing a bit of pause in that, for all of us. And continued reflection, wonder, and companionship that invokes in ourselves, with others, and among us all — kindness, consciousness, and a flow with what feels like life itself.

Human to Human, The Blog will return December 30, 2019.


But Lasting — On Friendship

I wrote this poem after a time of having friends in my home for a few days. We were in simple community together. Stories. Meals. Laughs. Tears. Some blue skies. Some early spring leafing of trees.

Got me thinking about family of blood and family of friends.

As an honoring of friendships that are family, I offer this poem.

But Lasting

Thank you friends,
for coming this way,
for these days together
in joy, play, and thoughtful connection.

Those twenty minutes
sharing stories from the day
much different.

I think these are moments
of family,
but lasting.

It’s Morning


It’s morning. Early morning. I’ve been up since 4:45. I suppose a bit restless. I’m traveling today. Need to pack. Need to tuck in my home. Wanting to go. Yet also, reluctant. Still very much learning to welcome “home” wherever I am, with good people. Yet, also, still very much learning about leaving home. There’s some pain in it for me. Some unresolved of my life’s chapters. It’s all belonging, I suppose. This is one of the things I tell myself. This is what I try to surrender myself to.

It’s morning. I’ve been reading a few poems that I’ve recently crafted. Loving some. Not loving some. I suppose I’m a bit restless. Not only am I traveling on the outside, I’m traveling on the inside too. I’m remembering the weekend hike to the falls, and the rocky mountain walls nearby. The spaciousness. The wonder. The wander. Not wanting to lose that to quickly, or not at all. But now I’m packing. I’m tucking in. I’m wanting to go. I’m reluctant. It’s all there. The inner is the outer. The outer invites the inner to become more apparent. This is one of the things I tell myself. Again. Surrender, yet not abandon. Chapter Four.

It’s morning. Here’s one of my poems. I’m really intrigued these days by “trouble,” and how one implication of being attentive to trouble, perhaps even resolving some, is that we earn the right to more trouble. Oh dear. Oh well. Well. New life.


I’ve Earned Trouble

The heat is too much.
I flake.
I peel.

Yet, thankfully,
I’m intact.

I’m relieved.
I wake.

Old life, go.
I departed.
I’ve earned trouble.
Undeniably, in new life.



Last week I walked through the grounds of a venue that I’ll be using for a workshop and retreat that centers on The Circle Way. The workshop and retreat will be November 2019. It will be in Cincinnati. I’ll be cohosting with my colleague and friend, Quanita Roberson.

On the grounds, located within an urban area, exists this retreat center. It struck me as having a nice mix of tended — there is deliberateness in the way the grounds and facilities are tended — and of a slight wildness and not performedness. I like it when places feel real for real people. Not perfectly polished.

These flowers caught my attention. It was slightly breezy that day. The weight of the flowers with the wind caused the branch to dance ever so slightly. Enough for me to stop and take this picture. I wanted to dwell.

I continue to learn about the dwelling that is both inner and outer. There are rooms within us that are meant to be paused in. That are meant to be waited in. That are meant to be resolved in a timing more than minutes rushed in a day. There are moments together, increasingly, like what happens when in circle, that we are meant to be as a group. Prolonged. Tended, yet with a bit of wild.

All of this gave rise to this poem below. Because something in me longs to dwell more. Just like I did with these dancing flowers. Last week.


There are many rooms
in this dwelling.

There is sun here.
There is a balcony
with lots of plants and flowers,
and even a few empty pots.

There is space here
unlocked for my dwelling.