We’re landing, we’re landing, repeated our youngest, J, his eyes lit round with excited relief, his little lungs adjusting to receive the stranger, brisker air of our just arrived destination: the South Island of New Zealand. In fact, our boy was incorrect, we’d landed several hours ago, in a rather noisy, choppy descent to earth, which
It was the final question I put to the Wise Man before he retired. What do I do if/when anxiety comes back? How do I know I can cope? What if? That same question I always walked in holding in my tight fist, was the same question that sat perched with me on the edge of
If you and I, dear friend, stranger, fellow-fragile-earth dweller, were meeting for coffee (although for me, it would be tea, always tea, with milk, and strong), I’d probably start off a little nervous. We’d sit down and make small talk, which has this way of always making me feel a bit small. I might laugh
Sometimes contentment looks less like a mountaineer’s milestone, Or an earmarked achievement dressed up in your best new clothes, The end result of all the things you thought you ever wanted…. And more like a secondhand curbside-found round table And a last-minute late lunch on a cloudy Sydney wintry afternoon And sometimes a couple
I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Mary than a Martha. You may be familiar with the biblical story. Jesus comes to visit a couple of M named sisters. Martha plays the dutiful host behind the scenes, buries herself in the kitchen, taking care of stuff. Sure, there are no scan pans, or