• Is Hope a Bitter Pill?

    Is Hope a Bitter Pill?

    I spent 7 years studying the healing traditions in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. At holy water sites across the country I witnessed people flock to find relief from physical and…

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  • Pull Yourself Together

    Pull Yourself Together

    The other day, when I was clearing out the bins, a coffee packet slipped onto the floor. It was an ugly packet for the cheapest ground coffee and at the…

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  • Do You Have the Right to Grieve?

    Do You Have the Right to Grieve?

    We tend to think of grief as intensely private. But within the wider cultural context, grief is validated or censored – both implicitly and explicitly. I’ve heard someone speak with…

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  • Why Live?

    Why Live?

    Is this a question you have asked yourself recently? I am reading a book of that title at the moment – it’s not well written so I won’t recommend it…

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  • Integration

    Integration

    A rainbow has pierced the clouds in front of my study window. The disintegration of light reveals a magnificence that neither sun nor rain can produce on its own. Grief…

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  • Balance

    Balance

    The wheel of the year turns and night expands from its summer brevity. On 22 September, the Autumn Equinox, day and night divide their twenty four hours equally between themselves.…

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  • Grief says nothing about the person we are grieving

    Grief says nothing about the person we are grieving

    At a time of national mourning, we are naturally drawn to consider the nature of grief. It can be confusing when intense feelings are stirred by the death of someone…

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  • An Ultra-Marathon of Grief

    An Ultra-Marathon of Grief

    Photograph: David Allaway, Iona Images

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  • Healing Makes our Hearts Happy

    Healing Makes our Hearts Happy

    For over twenty years the book, Healing Makes Our Hearts Happy by Richard Katz et al., has inspired me from my bookshelf. The contents of the book have faded in…

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  • Let the Sea be your Teacher

    Let the Sea be your Teacher

    This morning, looking out at the sea, a poem of Mary Oliver’s came to me: I go down to the shore in the morning And depending on the hour the…

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