The Life That Is Already Here — A Form of Spiritual Wellness Ask someone what they plan to do in retirement and the answers come quickly. Travel. Learn a language or play the piano. Take up painting. Write a book. Read the books we already bought
The Life That Is Already Here — A Form of Spiritual Wellness Ask someone what they plan to do in retirement and the answers come quickly. Travel. Learn a language or play the piano. Take up painting. Write a book. Read the books we already bought
Editor’s Note It has been some time since we last shared a From the Circle reflection. This one arrived recently and seemed important to share. A Reader’s Reflection There are moments when a reader’s words arrive with a certain weight—especially when they speak to the work of finding
What Lloyd Hammons and Diane Mahree reveal about belonging in later life Some lives are spent searching for where they belong. Others settle into place almost without intending to. In the first reflection in this series, The Man Who Stayed, we considered the story of Lloyd Russell
Last Sunday’s reflection asked where we belong now. This week, we consider what it means to practice staying with what matters in later life. For many who have done the inner work, that question eventually becomes quieter and more demanding. It shifts from geography to attention.
A man who stayed. A woman who traveled. What their lives ask of us. Last Sunday, we reflected on a man who spent nearly his entire life on the land where he was born. Lloyd Russell Hammons didn’t leave when others did. He didn’t stay to
Sunday’s reflection began with a man who stayed in one place for nearly his entire life. But remaining in later life is not only a matter of geography. In later life, “remaining” can become a quieter practice: staying with what is true, staying with what is unfinished,
Some people spend a lifetime searching for where they belong. Others simply remain. Questions of belonging in later life rarely surface all at once. They tend to emerge slowly, often in the very places where our lives have already taken shape. In rural Oregon, on land that had
👉 A Wish for This Night Those of us who gather here come to this night carrying many different stories. For some, this evening is full—voices overlapping, plates passed, familiar rituals. For others, it is quieter. A candle in the window. A chair left empty. Inconvenient memories
A Thanksgiving Ritual of Memory and Belonging Thanksgiving has a way of reminding us what’s changed — not only who is missing from the table, but how different we all are from the last time we sat here together. At first glance, it’s all familiar: the scent
Rediscovering belonging after loss and change “Belonging is the opposite of loneliness." — Brené Brown We spend much of life trying to find where we fit — in families, friendships, work, or faith. For a long time, it comes easily enough. Then something shifts. The kids move