MaryAb

All Staying is Temporary   I long to linger with the familiar, to lean on some sense of solid support knowing it is temporary. My...

Walking along the beach at my age is not necessarily safe, as I discovered recently on a boulder-strewn beach near Charmouth, Dorset. I took a...

In the days following writing about my granddaughter’s wonder, an image came back to me with some insistence – a memory from over 14 years...

Six months into this world, her eyes widen and fix on the sight of heavy rain falling in front of her.  What is this?  No...

  I have recently been reflecting on and writing about my experiences during the pandemic – ways in which it pushed me to a sense...

The Chair – a teaching on Emptiness (thank you, Prapto)   The chair is not one. The chair is many parts. The parts are made...

Sparrows gather in the roses, companionable and comfortable among thorns and perfume petals.   A longhorn beetle sensitively explores with antenna, legs, and mouth parts,...

Swifts are writing in the sky again, flinging their strength, agility, and fragility across the vast page. I can’t read swift. I imagine it’s about...

It is now a year since I wrote my first post on the theme of At The Edge.  Last month I presented the poems from...

I attend a weekly Qigong class.  Qigong has become seamlessly interwoven into my other practices of Buddhist meditation and Amerta movement to enable me to...