Month: January 2026

“Lovely,” She Said

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Last week at the grocery store
as I reached for my usual carton of eggs,
the brown ones,
the large ones,
chilled and nesting
in soft gray cardboard,
I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
“Lovely eggs,” she murmured.
“Lovely eggs.”
I turned to look.
“Sorry,” said the young woman
scanning the stacked shelves,
“I’m talking to myself.”
I smiled. “No need to be sorry.
It’s a beautiful thing to say.”
I turned back to the carton I held,
which now felt precious,
a fragile treasure.
I gently opened it,
checked each egg for cracks,
as I always do,
but this time with a sense of wonder.
What a marvel an egg is.
Truly, a holy marvel.
Round, smooth, a miracle in a shell,
it holds life—
in one form to fuel me,
in another, to morph into its own small self.
I have been in awe of eggs for days now.
And this week when I went to the store,
I paused before the bin of bananas.
“Lovely bananas,” I murmured.
“Lovely.”
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

Following the Fingerprints

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A morning shower has cocooned us
in clouds of soft silver gray,
embroidering our window screens
with seed pearls of glinting, dewy
droplets.
I am warming myself with hot coffee,
not in my usual smoothly curved,
factory-fashioned white cup
but in a handmade pottery mug
ringed by ridges
formed by the potter’s fingers
deftly pinching and pulling the clay
as it whirled on a wheel somewhere.
This mug is glazed shiny brown on the outside,
light pink-lavender within,
though the pink is now halfway hidden
by steaming coffee.
As I sip, I notice the potter’s thumbprint,
a dip pressed with purpose
exactly at the point
where the handle meets the mug’s rim,
a place where my thumb also rests
to hold the mug.
It’s a tiny, thoughtful gift
from someone I’ll never meet.
My right hand fingers hug the handle,
and my thumb rests in the thumbprint.
My left-hand fingers curve around the mug,
finding and following the fingerprints of the potter.
As I hold this mug,
I hold the potter’s hand, and
even though I’ll never know the potter,
I feel a genuine gesture of generosity,
a connection of kindness,
of comfort,
of kinship.
I’m grateful for this unknown potter
whose presence in this present moment
is bringing warmth and goodness
to the start of a soft,
silver gray day.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

Biting Into a New Year

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This time of year,
the morning sun rises
in the bamboo next door,
sparkling through breezy leaves
as it outshines the night-stars,
sends them into hiding.
These are the dawns,
crisp, cold, and snappy,
that make biting into this new year
feel like biting into a fresh, crisp apple,
the first crunch and snap,
first fistful of round red goodness,
first taste of tart sweetness,
first scent of the promise of joy,
first yes to the perfect imperfection
of wholeness,
of what I hold in my hand,
of what I hold in my heart,
of what I hope for.
A few days ago, I cut an apple in half
crosswise,
discovered again a star hidden inside,
a star holding seeds.
We think of our heart as heart-shaped,
but maybe it’s more star-shaped,
unseen
like deep-space stars tucked away in daytime,
like the star tucked away at the core of an apple,
holding seeds to scatter in this new year,
seeds of love and kindness,
grace and goodness,
help and hope.
As we bite into a new year,
may we look for the star in each other.
May we look for the star in ourselves.
May we be generous with the seeds we hold.
May we shine.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.