12/21/2024
As this year turns into the next one, I send you warm and light-filled greetings. Follow the link below to receive the gift of my annual reflection and visioning practice.
In January, I’ll be joining with a group of colleagues to explore the notion of hope beyond hope. We’ll be exploring this rich gnarly territory, not pretty-pretty-syrupy-hope, but the kind of hope that meets these potent times. I’m looking forward to feeling the comradeship of others wrestling with a hope that is fit for now — and to sharing with you what I glean.
Warmly, Lyedie
And a poem about hope by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
How Can We Not Try to Save It
Only this world—
not some unknown chance
of life somewhere else,
only this here, this life,
this improbable chance to be steward of meadow
and desert, mountain and cliff,
this chance to inhabit this
acre, this continent, this planet,
to know this frozen pond,
this slender stream, this dried grass,
this herd of mule deer, this darkness
that comes when our planet spins,
this light that arrives
on darkness’s edge.
Only this chance to sing
of this world, this disappearing
world, this world of emergence,
this world with its stars
and its bones, its prickles
and petals, its sweetness
and ache, this world
with its hopelessness
and, oh dare I say it,
its hope.
photo credit: Elizabeth Ungerleider
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