<![CDATA[22PEARLS.ORG

<![CDATA[22PEARLS.ORG - Blog]]>Sat, 04 Apr 2026 13:12:52 -0400Weebly<![CDATA[April 2026]]>Thu, 02 Apr 2026 12:32:54 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/april-2026

Song makers settled on the blackberry canes
between thorns and sunshine, precious was
the word that came to mind and heart and
as they opened their shiny beaks, I felt the
song between my bruised ribs, all week 'the
cough' hung to my chest wall, crushed my
breath and still I sang along with the birds,
and survived to witness the simple beauty
and joy of it all. And who am I for this? xo

]]><![CDATA[March 2026]]>Sun, 01 Mar 2026 13:42:21 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/march-2026
Don't say it. Not again. The in like a lion, like a race horse, like a broken shelled creature, like there's no tomorrow. Or yesterday. Like you aren't sleeping, aren't well. Don't remind me of the friends who finally cut loose, or the sisters who no longer call or care. Don't say time heals. Take off your black cloak, it's magic or mystical, don't tell me about the unknowns you carry in your pockets, place on the bedside table. Don't say the sky is falling, or looks like a famous painting. Don't ask me to look away. xo

]]><![CDATA[February 2026]]>Sun, 01 Feb 2026 13:48:39 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/february-2026

Yesterday, during a three-hour online Mystical Memoir workshop, the invitation given was to write in response to several prompts. One being: Before I Die. And another: Since You've Been Gone. Loved ones lived in the ink I pressed to the pages. Later, in the morning, I accidentally spilled half a glass of water onto my desk, and my words spread and blurred. I cried some more. Tenderness was the word I latched onto as I wiped up the mess and placed the soggy papers on the floor to dry in the sunlight. This morning, as I turn the calendar page on my desk, I notice this, too, had been touched by the blur, and so I took it as a sign to soften. I turned down the light, took the offered cup of tea in my hands, and blew across the surface while making a wish. It's the same wish I often make, but it's a new day...xo

]]><![CDATA[January 2026]]>Fri, 02 Jan 2026 14:31:00 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/january-2026

January 2026

And just like that...a turn of
of the page, a turn of the head.
Here's to seeing the beauty in
the smallest moments, in the simple things
in front of our eyes, and the loved ones
we may or may not be in touch with:
yet the ones who we share memories
and love with. May we hold one another
in peace and LOVE. xo

]]><![CDATA[December 2025]]>Mon, 01 Dec 2025 21:40:56 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/december-2025

It's sometimes difficult to feel how time moves on. Gramma Annie used to say it meant you were healthy and happy. When you weren't feeling well or were in a lonely spell, time seemed to slow down. I'll take healthy and ease, joy and wonder over angst any day. But the magic trick is to pass goodness on to others. There are so many folks living on the streets or in their cars. The woman who lives on the sidewalk near our house sometimes rants in a husky, wild voice, but mostly she seems to sleep. I've gifted her woolen socks and hot French Fries, but these are so very insignificant. She has eyes almost the same color as mine. She was once somebody's child, perhaps a sister, or a mother.
She was once a miracle, and I imagine she still is. xo

]]><![CDATA[November 2025]]>Fri, 31 Oct 2025 13:03:19 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/november-2025

A lone heron took watch over the sea lions; round males
with their hoarse barks, whistles, groans, and big splashes,
while the women rolled through the water like water itself,
a slight ruffle on the surface. Other birds arrived in Noyo Harbor
to witness the ways in which the colors of the morning
shifted and the sky opened onto itself. And I sat with my love
on a deck overlooking what can only be thought of as
magic and beauty, with a heart full of thanks. xo

]]><![CDATA[October 2025]]>Wed, 01 Oct 2025 04:00:00 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/october-2025

October, when the light shifts and shadows grow long and lovely.
And the rains start, and your world smells like memories and love.
The darkness opens and closes like a hinged box where secrets are kept.
The key long given away or lost, or it never was, but still the brass shines.
And just like that, you remember a tiny thing you thought you had forgotten.

xo

]]><![CDATA[September 2025]]>Mon, 01 Sep 2025 17:47:16 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/september-2025

Go. Go free, little being.

My entire life, you have
slept and woke with me,
you have rattled my ribs,
given me voice and song
& for this, and you, I bow.

On the wings that carried you here
take flight on these westerly winds
follow the pelicans in their dances
hooting & hollering their way home

xo

Go. Go free, little being.

My entire life, you have
slept and woke with me,
you have rattled my ribs,
given me voice and song
& for this, and you, I bow.

On the wings that carried you here
take flight on these westerly winds
follow the pelicans in their dances
hooting & hollering their way home

xo
Go. Go free, little being.

My entire life, you have
slept and woke with me,
you have rattled my ribs,
given me voice and song
& for this, and you, I bow.

On the wings that carried you here
take flight on these westerly winds
follow the pelicans in their dances
hooting & hollering their way home

xo

]]><![CDATA[August 2025]]>Fri, 01 Aug 2025 13:44:57 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/august-2025

come on, really, can you do this?

to open and keep opening
to hold beauty and silence
to be awed by the moment
to know when to walk away
and leave it all behind
others will stand in your place
but, it will never be the same

xo

]]><![CDATA[July 2025]]>Tue, 01 Jul 2025 12:19:40 GMThttp://www.22pearls.org/blog/july-2025

Summertime and the living is complicated, sweet, demanding, joyful. It's a life well-lived, a heart full of memories and dreams. It's a Tuesday, and all willing, tomorrow will be a Wednesday, and so on.

My friend, Laurie, suggests something close to the following: Every one of us at the 'table' is simply a beating heart that was once a child. And as my own GRANDchild readies to turn three. #3, my beating heart tosses about inside my flat chest in absolute AWE of his wonder and delights, of his short tantrums and his unbridled curiosity, of the kisses blown across miles, and the very soon hugs.

I'm grateful to and for the ones who sit at 'my table'.

Dear Self, please let shared stories inspire me to seek clarity to deepen my feelings and thoughts.
Let me remember, honor, and cherish the precious child within. Let me create art that sings. xo

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