A Simple Turn of the Head

And Things I Loved This Week And Music Always Music

Writing from the road this week from the American Northwest. It’s been lovely spending time with the Olympia Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Olympia Washington! So this is a postcard from the western edge.

“A story grows from the inside out. . . . if I begin traveling with an awareness of my own ignorance, trusting my instincts, I can look for my own stories embedded in the landscapes I travel through. A story allows us to envision the possibility of things. It draws on the powers of memory and imagination. It awakens us to our surroundings.”
― Terry Tempest Williams, Pieces of White Shell

In Terry Tempest Williams book Pieces of White Shell, she tells a story about hiking through a wooded area of Utah and finding the feather of a snowy owl upon the path. She is so excited by the beauty of this single feather that when she hears the hooting of a snowy owl in the distance, she resolves to search the woods and find it. For the rest of the day she wandered down one path and then another, she became lost and found her way. Several times, just when she thought she would have to give up her quest, she heard the owl call just off to the left or right. She was so determined that she continued to search until it was nearly evening, and yet the elusive bird remained always just out of reach. Finally hot, tired, discouraged and a little annoyed, she sat down on the ground. She heaved sigh and let go of her singular goal to find the owner of that beautiful white feather she’d been carrying all day long. She stayed there for a while breathing quietly and taking in the scene around her. Now that she was not exclusively searching for a flash of white wings she began to see the glowing light stream through the forest around her and noticed the dusty scent of high desert pine. She realized she had been so focused on finding that one particular owl she’d barely registered the beauty of all the paths and side trails she’d walked for hours. It was then she heard the sound of a Snowy Owl calling from just above her in a nearby tree. When she looked up the great bird was gazing down at her through round silent eyes. She heaved a great sigh and returned the owl’s gaze. And so it was —an owl and a woman sitting for a time in the quiet woods in quiet regard, just so in the evening light. After a time the owl lifted its wings and silently glided away.

It was only after she’d looked everywhere, searched everywhere, chased the elusive call, only after she sat down in a heap and said “this is too hard”, only after she surrendered looking —that she began to see.

I was charmed by this story of the feather and the owl, a singular search and the gaining of a wider perspective. There is an art to being lost and sometimes a subtle difference between looking and seeing. I’m still not exactly sure what it all means. I don’t think there is a tidy moral to the story. All I know is that the image of the woman and the owl gazing at one another in the golden hour at the end of a long day of searching has stayed with me. Perhaps this is because I recognize a story of being lost and found, lost and found again. Perhaps it is because sometimes it takes losing my way for me to become open to seeing things from a new perspective. Perhaps the reason this story and image continue to capture my imagination is because of the many times I’ve earnestly looked everywhere but where I’m actually standing, to discover that what I’ve been looking for has always been right here —looking for me and waiting for me to stop my forward motion long enough to really see, to shift my attention in the way the mystic Simone Weil described as “a simple turn of the head.”

---

Practice

Sit for a few moments and breathe quietly. Deepen and slow your breaths.

Now imagine searching all day in the deep pine woods with a feather in your hand. Imagine standing at the end of a long day of searching.

Now imagine looking up and seeing the owner of that feather- it could be an owl, a cardinal, an angel, a fairy, a great blue heron - anything with wings.

Now image that beautiful winged thing looking at you with warmth and infinite kindness.

Then speak aloud when you breathe in “ A simple turn” and on the out breath “ of the head.”

---

Question

SWhat did this story bring up for you? Was there a line or image in it that caught your attention? What does it mean to lean into a story that keeps unfolding?

---

Things I Loved This Week

My friend, Poet and Autism Educatior for The Arc of Massachusetts wrote a poem called “The Mathematics of Mercy”. Thank you to Betsy for writing this powerful insightful piece and gratitude to Congressman Jake Auchincloss for sharing "The Mathematics of Mercy,"about the human cost of Medicaid cuts, on the floor in Congress on May 7, 2025. I wept the first time I read this poem. Here is a version of Betsy reading the poem herself and a link to Auchincloss sharing the poem.

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="

title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Books

The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Hune. Lately I’ve been rotating between literature that is a bit heavier in content and things that are simply fun sweet stories…the kind that make you go “awww, that was so lovely”. In the world of this book, we live side by side with magical creatures, redemption is possible, and love is near at hand - and it makes you go Awwww at the end.

---

Music Always Music

This song is called “Cedar Rapids 10 Am” and appeared on my album The Beautiful Not Yet. It was written on a day when I’d been out on the road a bit too long. I woke up missing my sweetheart, feeling a little lost and ready to find my way home. Essentially it’s a love song…..and love always helps me find my way home.

---

Comments I Loved This Week

Honestly folks there were so many comments this week that moved me! The collective wisdom, insights and support you give to one another is humbling and inspiring. But here are a few…there will be more :-)

“I think we are very lucky to have dogs to teach us the art of living life. Step one is always being present, to be close, if possible. Touching is best. Calm is contagious. Heartbeats have a rhythm to help us pace ourselves, to catch our breath. Maybe we can be synchronized. Savoring the flavor of a life shared is the best. Love is powerful.” Mike Craven

“The phrase Grace knows no season, to me means that grace is forever present in our lives...if we let it be. Grace can be forgiveness or acceptance or other things to. Not only do we need to offer grace to others, we need to give it to ourselves. And we should learn to accept it from others. No season, no special days, just always.” Jean

“Grace is like the helping of grits served with breakfast at an Alabama diner: you don’t have to ask for it. It just shows up.” Cozad Taylor

Once Inch Photos

The pond in the spring green, Ella Bear, A tree in the woods that always reminds me of the body gesture women make with a baby on their hip, and wildflowers along the path.