“The dream of my life

is to lie down by slow river

and stare at the light in the trees—

to learn something by being nothing

a little while

but the rich

lens of attention.”

–Opening poem by Mary Oliver, chosen and read by Amy W.

At the side of a small pond

alongside my walk

an array of fresh growing

wonders caught my eye; 

spider lilies danced with

dazzles of sunlight, 

drawing me in.

I crouched near

looked very close

to see a spun filament

hanging like a gossamer hammock

anchored between arrowhead leaves,

swaying gently.

I, too, know strong and fragile.

What do I trust to attach to

that both secures and frees

my joy?

— Photo and poem by Amy Webb, May 4, 2024

Today I crutched my way slowly through the labyrinth, careful to land inside the brick borders of the path.  It took a new kind of focus to navigate, adjusting step by step to balance amidst the unevenness beneath me.  I noticed as never before the surface dips and thrusts, the occasional green weed surviving along a turn, stray stones. Looking ahead or up or out required deliberate stopping, propping against the crutches. My trek took me as long to get to the center as it usually takes to complete the walk and return to start.  But it was worth it. What an embodied lesson today to be fully present to each step I take.

— Photo and reflection by Amy Webb, May 4, 2024

I was mesmerized by the sky today… cloud patterns that seemed to stand still, even as a gentle wind kissed my face. The upper atmosphere looked tranquil, frozen in time … while the earthly breeze danced with the flowers and sculptures. Grateful for the incredible beauty…

— Photos and reflection by Nancy L.