Elizabeth, this is truly beautiful. I think we all forget what a journey this all is. Your devotion to truth, description of visiting and parting from adult children, your vulnerability - these things moved me. Thank you.
Thank you for this, R.C. I’m grateful we get to hold space for all of that and more together and that you’re part of this little corner of the internet. It means a lot to know you found connection here today.
So many people would not have picked up on the details of small conversations, of bits and pieces from your travels that you wove together into a tapestry of words. Most certainly my favorite type of story ❤️
Eileen, you always see what I’m trying to do, even when I’m not totally sure I’ve done it. I think we carry the world in fragments, and it is a great comfort to be stitching things together with you. Thank you for being here (always) and for appreciating the little-not-so-little stuff.
I am sitting here with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. As usual your writing has moved me. Your words describe feelings I cannot describe but feel all the same. Thank you dear friend. Love you.
Oh, sweet mama and grandmama!… your words mean so much. Isn’t it wild how these feelings live in all of us even when we don’t have the language for them? I’m grateful that my words can sometimes hold what’s in your heart too. Love you right back. ❤️
So many journeys, indeed—and most not measured in miles. The question of do we ever really understand? That feels like the center of it all, doesn’t it? Sometimes I think love is what we offer in place of full understanding. And often, that’s enough. Thank you for being on the path with me, Jill.
Ugh, Elizabeth. I have a lump in my throat. I know you know I know. "It’s one of the hardest things we do, daring to give ourselves over, and over, to what we can’t keep." We are spoiled and I am regularly gutted by what I can't keep. This is just beautiful. I feel in it the exquisite mix of wonder, joy, and pain that every visit with my daughter is now.I am glad you are safely home. (Also, I did a little internal cheer when I heard that you had an empty middle seat. What good luck and a great omen!)
Oh, Rita… I do know. We're part of a club that comes with heavy dues. Loving them across an ocean is a different kind of devotion. I hold so much admiration for the way you’ve walked into this new season with Grace. And yes to the empty middle seat. It felt like the universe was sending a wink. ❤️
A few days ago, my almost useless right eye saw a huge Grifola frondosa, nessled up against an ancient oak along the old carriage lane through the woods and along the creek in to Hope. Returning to it later, I was able to dislodge it with a delicate, but effective long-handled shovel,,, scurry it onto an old beach towel, and hoist this cumbersome mass, with all the strength my tired old arms could muster, into the trunk of my buggy------- it must have weighed twenty or more pounds...
Subsequently, I've been processing it,,,, to be able to enjoy and share every little bit of it---------
Think omelettes,,, stir fries,, tinctures,, 'shroom soup,, dehydrating,, and freezing------Tra La
I feel so lucky to 'reconnect' with you through your wonderful 'scratchings' and fondly recall our musings at the St M's market about Jack-O-Lanterns,,, fairy rings and other things mycelial--------
Ah Peter, what a joy to find your voice here again—singing of fungus, and conjuring vivid scenes with that beach towel harvest. I can picture it all: the old oak, the careful shovel, the ride home. And I’m so glad that you’re still out there gathering and sharing generously. Your words remind me that beauty and nourishment are everywhere, if you keep looking (squint if need be!). Be well, be well, be well feels like a kind of benediction. Thank you.
Hello Elizabeth - thank you for this - Beauty-full writing. I live only at home, and you transported me round the World. The moments, the not-saying then but saying here. All those details your wheelchair-pusher told you. I'm chair-user, not pushed these days as I venture no further than my Lovely Garden - but I felt the over-the-shoulder exchange again, as you were whisked along. Really, such a voyage you've conveyed. Elephant Trees, dog-hungry folk, Ocean paddling + the pain of the let-go's. Such richness. Thank you. x x x J
Jaihn, your words are a gift—thank you. It means everything to know that my journey carried you to a shared experience of movement, presence, release. Whether we’re wheeling through airports or walking slowly among the flowers, these passages shape us all in their own way. I’m grateful for your kindness and for the connection we hold here. Sending love your way.
Ahh, your kind words + Love bring warmth, indeed. I've been feeling bereft through minimal response to recent sharings, in my new artistry project, here, - but you've restored my faith that there are actual living warm beings beyond the screen. Love.
Oh, Jaihn, I’m so glad you said this. It’s so easy to feel like we’re speaking into a void here, isn’t it? But your words, your presence, are proof of the heartbeat. Your new project sounds like a brave, beautiful thing—sometimes the echoes take a while to come back, but they will. I’m honored if anything I wrote helped remind you of that. Sending you a little extra light today. 🌿💛
Thank you again, Elizabeth. I'll keep your confidence in the unfoldings in my thoughts as H A P P E N I N G unfolds. And aim also to recall that these things take time in the world of time. x x x 💚✨
Betsy I know this is going to sound trivial to what you said and the way you think..... But hellos and goodbyes are just about the essence of all we do... Most understand when we say how a hello cheers us and a goodbye saddens us... I'm going to compliment you in a way that you didn't expect... I sat in many meetings with you and watched you change from a precious little girl to a beautiful young woman.... I watch you silly at age 8 and mature and classical when you graduated from high school... I traveled just about every retreat possible alongside your company... And yet there was that day that I had to say goodbye to you as you moved on... I had 2300 such examples of others moving on... But I'm speaking to you specifically now and I'm saying that at that moment I watched you walk from the graduation in yesterday's cheers to adulthood unknown... I found sadness and excitement competing.... Sadness and profound sadness that I would not have you to lead around me anymore... Profound happiness that you were growing into the person God had given rich possibilities.... hellos and goodbyes are neither good nor bad but channels to wade through on our way to the big water.... You say all the beautifully and made a big splash and I love being part of your waves...
Barry, your words hold me in warmth. You’ve been part of so many chapters of my life—early, insecure days all the way up to now. And hearing you reflect on our shared journey means more than I can say. You capture so well that bittersweet dance of hellos and goodbyes, those channels we wade through toward something greater. I’m grateful beyond words that you’re still here riding the waves with me. Thank you for your steadfast friendship and for seeing me all these years.
I'm so sorry about your sometimes-acquaintance, someone you knew, and the timing of her passing in the scheme of everything else here.
The trees really do bring elephants to mind.
I feel this so much, and especially in the context of having grown children: "It’s one of the hardest things we do, daring to give ourselves over, and over, to what we can’t keep."
Amy, I know you know how grief shows up unexpectedly and moves in, how emptiness can take up so much room. As for my sometimes-acquaintance, she was a good soul—one I'd call a friend if I weren’t so careful about using that word when I’ve been out of touch. Thank you for holding space with me here. It means a lot.
Many of my wondering about your journey have been answered here an now and as always wonderfully conveyed...thank you for that. I was interested to hear you say that your Aussie family even speaks a different language...interesting and isolating? Its a big big world. Go you for getting out there and for all the immigrants that are now helping people on their own passages.
Janice, you always make me feel so seen — thank you for that. Just to clarify, it’s actually my daughter’s boyfriend who speaks another language, not the Aussie side of the family. But you’re right, it can feel isolating at times, even in the midst of all the love and excitement. I think that’s part of what makes travel (and migration) so humbling — all the invisible bridges people build to meet each other where they are. Thank you for welcoming me back with such warmth. Big hugs to you!
Thank you so much, Nan! It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed—beautiful, complicated, and heart-stretching in all the best ways. Still finding my footing back here, but grateful for the journey and for kind voices like yours waiting on the other side. Sending a hug across the miles!
What a journey you had! I can’t wait to hear more. And I’m so sorry about your friend. It’s a great reminder to cherish the time we have, despite the troubling times.
Teresa, thank you. Yes—so many layers to this one. I’m still letting pieces of it settle. And you’re right, it really is a sharp reminder to hold close what (and who) matters while we can. Looking forward to catching up sometime soon. 💛 I appreciate your presence here.
Roe, thank you. I know this season holds a lot for you too, and I’m grateful we get to meet each other here in the midst of all the shifting ground. Sending you love as the days unfold.
Shauna, it’s so lovely to see your name here—thank you for your kindness, and for coming along for the ride. It means a lot to feel accompanied, especially in the tender spots. I hope you’re well and finding beauty in your own corners of the world.
Elizabeth, this is truly beautiful. I think we all forget what a journey this all is. Your devotion to truth, description of visiting and parting from adult children, your vulnerability - these things moved me. Thank you.
Thank you for this, R.C. I’m grateful we get to hold space for all of that and more together and that you’re part of this little corner of the internet. It means a lot to know you found connection here today.
So many people would not have picked up on the details of small conversations, of bits and pieces from your travels that you wove together into a tapestry of words. Most certainly my favorite type of story ❤️
Eileen, you always see what I’m trying to do, even when I’m not totally sure I’ve done it. I think we carry the world in fragments, and it is a great comfort to be stitching things together with you. Thank you for being here (always) and for appreciating the little-not-so-little stuff.
I am sitting here with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. As usual your writing has moved me. Your words describe feelings I cannot describe but feel all the same. Thank you dear friend. Love you.
Oh, sweet mama and grandmama!… your words mean so much. Isn’t it wild how these feelings live in all of us even when we don’t have the language for them? I’m grateful that my words can sometimes hold what’s in your heart too. Love you right back. ❤️
Such a journey of heart and with a daughter's partner who doesn't speak a language you understand--do we ever really understand?
Many many journeys!!
So many journeys, indeed—and most not measured in miles. The question of do we ever really understand? That feels like the center of it all, doesn’t it? Sometimes I think love is what we offer in place of full understanding. And often, that’s enough. Thank you for being on the path with me, Jill.
Ugh, Elizabeth. I have a lump in my throat. I know you know I know. "It’s one of the hardest things we do, daring to give ourselves over, and over, to what we can’t keep." We are spoiled and I am regularly gutted by what I can't keep. This is just beautiful. I feel in it the exquisite mix of wonder, joy, and pain that every visit with my daughter is now.I am glad you are safely home. (Also, I did a little internal cheer when I heard that you had an empty middle seat. What good luck and a great omen!)
Oh, Rita… I do know. We're part of a club that comes with heavy dues. Loving them across an ocean is a different kind of devotion. I hold so much admiration for the way you’ve walked into this new season with Grace. And yes to the empty middle seat. It felt like the universe was sending a wink. ❤️
On my trip across an ocean in March I got an empty middle seat, too. It was the best! I felt that wink, too. 🙂
A few days ago, my almost useless right eye saw a huge Grifola frondosa, nessled up against an ancient oak along the old carriage lane through the woods and along the creek in to Hope. Returning to it later, I was able to dislodge it with a delicate, but effective long-handled shovel,,, scurry it onto an old beach towel, and hoist this cumbersome mass, with all the strength my tired old arms could muster, into the trunk of my buggy------- it must have weighed twenty or more pounds...
Subsequently, I've been processing it,,,, to be able to enjoy and share every little bit of it---------
Think omelettes,,, stir fries,, tinctures,, 'shroom soup,, dehydrating,, and freezing------Tra La
I feel so lucky to 'reconnect' with you through your wonderful 'scratchings' and fondly recall our musings at the St M's market about Jack-O-Lanterns,,, fairy rings and other things mycelial--------
Be well,,, be well,,, be well------------
Ah Peter, what a joy to find your voice here again—singing of fungus, and conjuring vivid scenes with that beach towel harvest. I can picture it all: the old oak, the careful shovel, the ride home. And I’m so glad that you’re still out there gathering and sharing generously. Your words remind me that beauty and nourishment are everywhere, if you keep looking (squint if need be!). Be well, be well, be well feels like a kind of benediction. Thank you.
Hello Elizabeth - thank you for this - Beauty-full writing. I live only at home, and you transported me round the World. The moments, the not-saying then but saying here. All those details your wheelchair-pusher told you. I'm chair-user, not pushed these days as I venture no further than my Lovely Garden - but I felt the over-the-shoulder exchange again, as you were whisked along. Really, such a voyage you've conveyed. Elephant Trees, dog-hungry folk, Ocean paddling + the pain of the let-go's. Such richness. Thank you. x x x J
Jaihn, your words are a gift—thank you. It means everything to know that my journey carried you to a shared experience of movement, presence, release. Whether we’re wheeling through airports or walking slowly among the flowers, these passages shape us all in their own way. I’m grateful for your kindness and for the connection we hold here. Sending love your way.
Ahh, your kind words + Love bring warmth, indeed. I've been feeling bereft through minimal response to recent sharings, in my new artistry project, here, - but you've restored my faith that there are actual living warm beings beyond the screen. Love.
Beyond the screen!
Hello, + thank you, Kathleen.
Oh, Jaihn, I’m so glad you said this. It’s so easy to feel like we’re speaking into a void here, isn’t it? But your words, your presence, are proof of the heartbeat. Your new project sounds like a brave, beautiful thing—sometimes the echoes take a while to come back, but they will. I’m honored if anything I wrote helped remind you of that. Sending you a little extra light today. 🌿💛
Thank you again, Elizabeth. I'll keep your confidence in the unfoldings in my thoughts as H A P P E N I N G unfolds. And aim also to recall that these things take time in the world of time. x x x 💚✨
Ah… Life… Take care my dear. 🤗🤗
Ah, Beth—thank you, dear one. Thanks for sharing your beautiful country with me!
Betsy I know this is going to sound trivial to what you said and the way you think..... But hellos and goodbyes are just about the essence of all we do... Most understand when we say how a hello cheers us and a goodbye saddens us... I'm going to compliment you in a way that you didn't expect... I sat in many meetings with you and watched you change from a precious little girl to a beautiful young woman.... I watch you silly at age 8 and mature and classical when you graduated from high school... I traveled just about every retreat possible alongside your company... And yet there was that day that I had to say goodbye to you as you moved on... I had 2300 such examples of others moving on... But I'm speaking to you specifically now and I'm saying that at that moment I watched you walk from the graduation in yesterday's cheers to adulthood unknown... I found sadness and excitement competing.... Sadness and profound sadness that I would not have you to lead around me anymore... Profound happiness that you were growing into the person God had given rich possibilities.... hellos and goodbyes are neither good nor bad but channels to wade through on our way to the big water.... You say all the beautifully and made a big splash and I love being part of your waves...
Barry, your words hold me in warmth. You’ve been part of so many chapters of my life—early, insecure days all the way up to now. And hearing you reflect on our shared journey means more than I can say. You capture so well that bittersweet dance of hellos and goodbyes, those channels we wade through toward something greater. I’m grateful beyond words that you’re still here riding the waves with me. Thank you for your steadfast friendship and for seeing me all these years.
I'm so sorry about your sometimes-acquaintance, someone you knew, and the timing of her passing in the scheme of everything else here.
The trees really do bring elephants to mind.
I feel this so much, and especially in the context of having grown children: "It’s one of the hardest things we do, daring to give ourselves over, and over, to what we can’t keep."
Beautiful photos from the trip!
Amy, I know you know how grief shows up unexpectedly and moves in, how emptiness can take up so much room. As for my sometimes-acquaintance, she was a good soul—one I'd call a friend if I weren’t so careful about using that word when I’ve been out of touch. Thank you for holding space with me here. It means a lot.
Many of my wondering about your journey have been answered here an now and as always wonderfully conveyed...thank you for that. I was interested to hear you say that your Aussie family even speaks a different language...interesting and isolating? Its a big big world. Go you for getting out there and for all the immigrants that are now helping people on their own passages.
Welcome back. J
Janice, you always make me feel so seen — thank you for that. Just to clarify, it’s actually my daughter’s boyfriend who speaks another language, not the Aussie side of the family. But you’re right, it can feel isolating at times, even in the midst of all the love and excitement. I think that’s part of what makes travel (and migration) so humbling — all the invisible bridges people build to meet each other where they are. Thank you for welcoming me back with such warmth. Big hugs to you!
Love this post, Elizabeth. Welcome home. I hope the trip was exactly what you wanted it to be. xo
Thank you so much, Nan! It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed—beautiful, complicated, and heart-stretching in all the best ways. Still finding my footing back here, but grateful for the journey and for kind voices like yours waiting on the other side. Sending a hug across the miles!
Thank you! And I saw the photo of you...you're a beauty! xo
Aww, thank you. Gosh. ☺️
Tears of gratitude 🙏🏼
Kathleen, that means the world to me. Thank you for reading with your heart wide open.
What a journey you had! I can’t wait to hear more. And I’m so sorry about your friend. It’s a great reminder to cherish the time we have, despite the troubling times.
Teresa, thank you. Yes—so many layers to this one. I’m still letting pieces of it settle. And you’re right, it really is a sharp reminder to hold close what (and who) matters while we can. Looking forward to catching up sometime soon. 💛 I appreciate your presence here.
beautifully written. thank you.
Roe, thank you. I know this season holds a lot for you too, and I’m grateful we get to meet each other here in the midst of all the shifting ground. Sending you love as the days unfold.
I am so sorry for your loss.🙏💛 Thank you for the trip around the world! 🌎
Shauna, it’s so lovely to see your name here—thank you for your kindness, and for coming along for the ride. It means a lot to feel accompanied, especially in the tender spots. I hope you’re well and finding beauty in your own corners of the world.