Here is a little poem in celebration of the gifts of our awesome planet. Happy Thanksgiving!
My breakfast
I begin the day with honesty.
Not with noise, not with rush –
but with the nearness of simple things.
Not with noise, not with rush –
but with the nearness of simple things.
An apple, a carrot, a leaf of lettuce,
grated by hand –
because contact matters.
Because life tastes different
when you are part of its making.
grated by hand –
because contact matters.
Because life tastes different
when you are part of its making.
Oats, nuts, a touch of cinnamon –
Some little berries…
nothing imposed, nothing in excess.
I listen.
If the body says no, I don’t argue.
If sweetness is needed,
grapes will offer it –
without shouting.
If the body says no, I don’t argue.
If sweetness is needed,
grapes will offer it –
without shouting.
This is more than breakfast.
This is alignment.
This is alignment.
This is gratitude
A bowl that tells the truth.
A quiet agreement between earth and self:
take only what you need,
honor the simplicity that sustains you,
and let even small rituals
carry dignity.
A quiet agreement between earth and self:
take only what you need,
honor the simplicity that sustains you,
and let even small rituals
carry dignity.