What if the secret to feeling truly at home isn’t found in spending time in activity, but beneath an open sky, lying on a fallen tree, breathing in sync with an ancient forest?

There is much to be said for rest. In truth, rest may be one of the most fruitful ways we spend our time. Constant activity pulls us into a whirlwind of doing, but rest draws us out of that vortex. It releases us from relentless distractions, deadlines, worries, pursuits of our desires, and mental preoccupations. In rest, our emotions settle, and our bodies remember ease.

Imagine waking up tomorrow in a world without friends. Now imagine a lifetime without them. Something essential would be missing… not simply companionship, but Sacred Kinship. Some of the most meaningful time we will ever spend is time spent in sacred kinship, for friends are not merely companions on the journey; they are part of the journey itself.

I have looked into eyes where no one is home; they were vacant, dazed, emptied of light. I have seen spirits broken like trees struck by lightning or extinguished like a match in the wind. This is what can happen when sudden misfortune meets us.

I once met someone who joins the circus every summer. That single confession opened a door I didn’t know existed.

I was never supposed to become the person I am today. That person was buried somewhere around age seven, covered over by school schedules, adult expectations, and the relentless push to grow up. But this morning, sitting with my coffee and journal, I realized something: I’ve spent the last forty years trying to find my way back to that child—and the hours I’ve given to that search are time well spent.

I woke up thinking how beautiful the day was. Then I remembered: it’s already disappearing. Like sand through an hourglass, time doesn’t pause. It does not listen to our pleas to stop, even for a moment.