Joy. It grows in any season and you may harvest it without limit.
A fine sentiment, expressed in a men’s prayer room somewhere–I think it was a church.
I returned to the place where I had spent three weeks in an addiciton recovery center (much more about that later) and walked this labyrinth in gratitude.
Life welcomes winter, and holds it with the ever-hope of spring.
Ageless.
With irony, courtesy of The New Yorker and a waiting-room table at Kaiser Permenante, Family Practice.
Hardy, strong, full of life, and without regard for momentary discomfort.
I believe I shall attend this while I have the opportunity before returning to work or whatever.
