Bridget Purdome

Pulling weeds.Clipping dry stems.Creating space in the garden. Opening up space in me. To play.To breathe.To be. What is helping you to “be” this summer? Copyright (c) 2023, Bridget Purdome, ThePearlDivers.com. All rights reserved.

It wasn’t on our list of “don’t miss” stops along the Icefield Parkway in Banff National Park. And with a name like, “Herbert,” I didn’t have high expectations. I just needed to stretch my legs with a short walk to the lake. Now, don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against all of you

Your vision is okay for driving,” the eye doctor said. “Do you want to see more clearly?” Hmmm…do I? Do I want to see the tiny red buds on spring trees? The fine features of robins, cardinals and blackbirds? The hands on the clock of a distant church? (Is there really a clock on that

Last spring, I had a startling sense of clarity after engaging in the simple contemplative practice of picking up sticks. A year later, I returned to the site of this epiphany. What happened? I picked up sticks. Pretty anticlimactic, huh? On the surface, yes. I walked, scanned the yard, picked up sticks, carried them to

Aunt Justine was known for writing eulogies for family and friends, so I wasn’t too surprised that she wrote part of her own: Hello, my name is Justine Leonard. For most of my working career, I was a ghost writer, the voice and second banana for many of Milwaukee’s movers and shakers. To drop a

I remember my first Valentine’s Day as a newlywed; this was more than thirty years ago. I had to travel for business that week, but my return flight was the afternoon of February 14th, so my husband, Mark, who loves to cook, was planning a special fondue dinner. As I flew back to Chicago, the

I stepped out of my car, scanned the front yard and breathed. I sensed that the yard was breathing with me. When I left the retreat house last fall, the lawn was completely covered in leaves. I had tried to clear them during my stay, but the more I raked, the more the leaves came

My mom would have turned 86 today. This morning, I awoke to a 49-degree temperature, threw on several layers of clothing, and rode my bike to Lake Michigan in the dark. (Don’t worry, Mom! My bike is equipped with cool, blinking lights!) As I approached Montrose Beach, I was joined by hundreds of people. They

I remember simple moments with Mom as well as extraordinary ones. A few years ago, I accompanied her to a doctor’s appointment that was especially difficult. She was dealing with an undiagnosed UTI, and it was impacting her mentally. Uncharacteristic of sweet and gentle Mom, she was very loud in the waiting room and complained

This summer, I’ve been working on my daily qigong practice. Of course, I grumble when the alarm goes off and then slowly make my way out to the balcony. Here I may be greeted by a soft palette of colors or some stunning cloud formations. I begin my qigong movements, as I watch the changing