A dawn meditation on the possibility of the day, and the quiet joy of belonging in a space of one’s own.
The Shakers are known for their beautiful furniture and for their imagination around simplicity. A critical look at the history of the Shakers in America to understand our relationship to austerity and abundance.
A poem for the permeable quiet of a December evening, weaving together the lonesome sounds of a home.
The KonMari method includes the simple act of asking the question, "Does this spark joy?" A woman testifies to the transformational potential of creating an organized, mindful space.
Home, connection, people, familiarity: we all yearn for something. Our producer Maia Tarrell shares a song by Indigenous Australian artist Geoffrey ‘Gurrumul’ Yunupingu that evokes that essential yearning for connection and disconnection all at once.
In an increasingly frenetic world, emptying the mind in intentional silence can feel impossible. By returning to the Quaker tradition, one mother rediscovers the solace of communal stillness and embracing the busyness of her thoughts.
As we become global citizens and focus on issues around the world, we neglect to look out the window of our back yards and into our local communities. A reminder to be part of the locality where we live too.
It's all good this week. Stories of success, laughter, landscape, and renewed energy.
We often desire a sense of adventure and travel. But when a "life of wandering" overtakes a "life of rootedness," we take time away from home and community — and "the ground at our own feet."
What if it turns out that faith is truly existential, not a leap of faith but a reality already there for us to notice and accept? A meditation and a poem on the suffering of Job.
Sometimes healing spaces are not only in far-away romantic, picturesque places. As Asha Sanaker from Ithaca, New York points out, these sacred spaces often encompass our back yards and our livelihoods
by Caitlin Shetterly, guest contributor
What is the American dream, anyway? Do any of us know anymore? Is it F. Scott Fitzgerald’s vision of a “green light” and an “orgiastic future” that forever eludes us? Is it our founding fathers’ notion that all men are created equal to pursue happiness? Is it a house with a perfect lawn, an SUV, and all the material things we could want? What I do know is that many of us in the working middle class grew up believing in the promise of “fruited plains,” ours to harvest if we worked hard enough. America was “made for you and me.”