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photos by george billard

10.16.17 To All Things a Season

To everything there is a season...whether you know these words from Ecclesiastes or from Pete Seeger's song recorded by The Byrds, I'm sure you understand the underlying meaning. Everything happens in its own time. Change is the one constant and we ride it like a wave, knowing that it's taking us somewhere—always forward, though sometimes it doesn't feel that way. As we evolve, parts of us die and fall away; new parts unfurl and bloom. This is the cycle, the journey of life. And so it has come to pass that this is my last post on Glutton for Life. Even as I write that, I feel resistance, reluctance, sadness...but I know it's the right thing for me at this time. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Tagged — change
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once upon a time

6.7.13 Imperfectly Fine

Forgive me, friends, for I have sinned. It's been longer than I care to think about since my last confession. You probably imagine me leading a carefree life of bucolic bliss: wandering through the woods foraging for pristine delicacies; plucking tender vegetables from my garden; traveling to exotic places; whipping up epic feasts...and there are certainly times when all this is true. But, oh, there are other times. And those I tend to keep to myself, tamped down in a dark and moldy spot.

Why would you want to know about my fears and foibles and failings? That all smacks of dirty laundry and this is meant to be a place of inspiration. But deep down I know that what we often find most uplifting has nothing to do with perfection and everything to do with the full spectrum of our shared humanity.

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the house that change built

6.26.12 Same As It Ever Was

Much is said about change—its inevitability, its power to engender fear...and transformation. I believe that if we don't create change, change will create us. When it comes at you, you can either wrestle it like a big slippery alligator, or just do your best to ride the wave. Nine years ago, when my husband died of cancer and I was trudging through the Slough of Despond in Los Angeles, change felt like the slow flaying of my skin. Three years ago, when I left my familiar life in New York City for the wilds of Sullivan County, change was like an enormous infusion of oxygen and optimism. Life is change, and that's never more apparent than when you live close to nature and really experience the cycle of birth and death that is constantly on display. Even the simple blossoming and wilting of a flower in a single day is a reminder. Life is short, my friends, and we must not waste a moment clinging to what we have already lost. The perfection and freshness of youth is one thing, the patina and widsom of age quite another. But they are two sides of the same coin, and of equal value.
Tagged — change