When is Enough Enough?

I’ve done some amazing things in my life. I’ve written books, helped produce over 70 public radio documentaries, worked on a film doc, and had three babies and 8 grandbabies. Then why then do I continually feel like it isn’t enough? It’s a core crazy-making questions that continues to drive me. If my do list has thirteen items on it and twelve of them have a pink highlighter slashed through them (done!)—I see only that unlucky thirteenth item.

I have a “yes but,” pattern running in my programs, and it’s beginning to tick me off.

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On Blueberries and Fathers, a timed writing

I remember the low-bush look on the forest floor and me kneeling or crouching, sitting where the berries dance heavy all around and I can pick sitting down, my fingers bluing with time like my grandma’s hair. I remember the feeling of berries rolling from their ripe, loose hold on the low bush and dropping into my hand and the tiniest sound of berries dropping into the bucket.

The forest makes sounds. It buzzes, sometimes too near

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I don’t Need You to Like Me . . .

I wrote this about a month ago. Unfortunately, I needed to hear it for myself today, so I am posting it now. Those who know me will understand.

A fresh week, a fresh day, and of course, fresh snow. Everything today feels fresh.

I have been thinking about the many things I keep inside of me without allowing full expression. At first I thought it was just the unspoken things, the sharp truthful stuff.

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