grief and freedom

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 …

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Live Fully

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 …

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Remembering Mom

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 …

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Practicing Joy

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 …

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Right Now

Why are you waiting forthe sun to setthe suffering to enda new season to emerge?Isn’t it all right hereright now?Beauty.Peace.Joy. Copyright (c) 2022, Bridget Purdome, ThePearlDivers.com. All rights reserved.

Planting gladiolus

No better way to heal thanclearing away brushdigging into dark soilsometimes hitting rocksor claynestling in bulbs andblanketing with dirtknowing that they all don’thave the same chanceto survive andthriveyet still hoping for andnourishing each one.And when the grief returnshow does one respond?By planting gladiolus. In memory of two beautiful women, Marsha and Angela.   Copyright (c) …

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Lack of Story?

My heart sank as I spotted the flashing light behind me. This isn’t how I had imagined starting my getaway weekend to a small, lake town. I pulled over, reached into my backpack and located my wallet and license. Then, I fumbled through my glove compartment, pulled out a stack of papers, and flipped through …

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“You are Special”

I barely knew him, and yet, every Christmas, he reminded me, “You are special.” The third of four children, all born in the span of just 6 years, it was impossible to get any individual attention except from this mysterious and thoughtful man. On Christmas day, the Milwaukee relatives would arrive laden with packages for …

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