Author: karynhenleyauthor

The Peace of Baking Bread

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Rich, yeasty, cozy, all-embracing,

the scent of fresh-baked bread

warms the kitchen,

drifts upstairs,

flows through the house,

seeps out open windows,

mingles with cool autumn air,

hitches a ride on the breeze,

while indoors, its warm hug

settles me.

I have worked for this moment,

measured flour, salt, sugar,

added yeast and scalding water,

kneaded plump dough

four minutes per loaf (I bake two),

press and fold,

press and fold,

a hefty eight-minute workout

for arms and hands and fingers.

Then comes the magic.

The dough rises, doubles in size

and bakes golden brown,

fresh and fragrant.

All is well with a loaf of bread

just out of the oven.

What’s better than its yeast-warm smell—

except for a bit of butter

on that first yummy bite.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Bell Tower

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A rainy day,

silver showers,

drips tapping gently on windowpanes,

soft sounds soothe until

chimes ring out the hour

on the campus to the east.

Those chimes.

What a nuisance they were twenty years ago

when the bell tower was built,

ringing every quarter hour—really?

Apparently, measuring time

in fifteen minute intervals

is important. To someone.

I prefer a less metered flow of hours.

Then, sometime in those twenty years,

it happened:

The chimes marking time

faded into the soundtrack of my day.

Now when I notice them,

I wonder—what else has faded?

In the unbounded, wide-ranging time of my mind,

what else ebbs into the background?

The chimes bring me back to the present moment,

to the chorus of birdsong,

the tick of an old clock,

the tink of ice in a glass,

the chip of a chipmunk,

the buzz of insects tucked in the shadows of bushes,

the breeze whispering, “Come back.

Come back to this place.

Come back to this time.

Come back to the chimes.”

They’re ringing again now.

Through silver showers,

a quarter hour

has come

and gone.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – a little visitor:

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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Wishing I Could Fly

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A V of geese, calling out,

crossed the cloud-rippled sky,

and I, below, watched them go,

wishing I could fly.

I’d go west too but visit

every garden on the way

to where the sunset colors glow

and twilight cools the day.

But this is now and that is dream.

I’ve been west, and I know

that here is where life hums to me;

it’s where my gardens grow.

The hug-warm sun sets here as well

and paints the twilight sky.

Still, I look up and fill with dreams

when flocks of geese fly by.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Joy Resting

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“Peace is joy at rest, and joy is peace on its feet.”

– Anne Lamott, quoting her pastor Veronica –

May your joy find rest and may your peace find its feet. Nurture it, cultivate loving kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – Super Moon, Blue Moon:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Looking at Green

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“Go outside,”

my friend’s therapist said.

“Go outside and look at the green.”

The used heart,

the abused heart,

the wounded soul

turns inward with pain,

tunnels in,

builds a protective shell,

like a snail, hides inside.

Colors, once bright and bold,

become muted,

care full,

shrinking into shadows,

swept into shards—

but there,

still there.

“Go outside.

Go outside and look at

all the colors of green.”

My friend did.

She opened the door.

Green met her there,

and she saw that green

was not just green

but elegant emerald,

warm olive,

deep forest,

soft sage,

splashy sea green,

tart apple green,

sunlit spring green,

lime,

moss,

pine,

branching out,

stretching up,

dancing in the wind,

basking on a rock,

climbing a fence,

life giving life,

simply being,

full and changing

one day at a time,

brightening,

fading,

from one green to another,

simple,

restful,

growing,

hopeful.

My friend laughs now with delight

at being precisely who she is.

She is evergreen.

“Go outside and

look at the

green.”

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Slipped Between the Pages

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I grabbed the nearest piece of paper,

slipped it between pages-read and not-read in

wife/daughter/self by Beth Kephart, a favorite writer.

I shoved the book into my carry-on

and dashed out to catch a flight to Texas

to visit my dad, rich in years at 95 and,

to his consternation, confined to a wheelchair.

By the time I arrived, he was,

to his consternation, confined to his bed

and being fed

by caregivers.

A day went by,

two,

three,

until the morning he couldn’t eat

and hardly roused from sleep.

“Have you ever heard a death rattle?”

a caregiver asked.

I had not—

until that day,

that day he raised his arms,

reached for the sky,

opened his eyes,

gazed beyond the ceiling,

and then left us

for something more.

Days later, standby on a flight home,

I took the last seat on the plane

and slipped my paper boarding pass,

between the same pages of the same book.

I had not read any farther,

did not read on the flight,

but found comfort holding wife/daughter/self.

A week later, by the light of early evening,

I settled in to read,

my place marked by two slips of paper.

The first was a card from a bouquet

from one of my sons:

“Happy Mother’s Day! We love you.”

The other was the boarding pass

that meant leaving my father

for the last time.

As the light dimmed, there I sat,

holding two cards, one book, and me.

I had slipped between the pages of life,

somewhere between parents and children,

closing one chapter,

turning the page to another,

and hoping for a happy ending.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Silenced by the Sea in the Wind

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On a windy day,

if I close my eyes and open my ears,

I live beside the sea,

though this sea is only waves of wind

surging and ebbing,

a rolling surf of air

swishing through pine needles,

washing over elm leaves,

splashing the fronds of bamboo.

It’s the nature of Nature

to echo herself,

the sea in the wind and the wind in the sea.

Or a bird that chirps like a yipping dog

(or perhaps it’s the dog who yips like the bird).

A leaf that echoes the shape of wings,

wings that echo the shape of feathers,

feathers that echo the shape of feelers

on a fancy, flamboyant moth.

Leaves that echo the scent of lemon

or pepper

or cat pee.

But it’s the sea in the sound of the wind

that silences me,

sparks my dreams,

carries me to distant shores,

to time outside of time.

I suspect that this present moment

is itself an echo

of eternity.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Risking It All

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“Wage peace,” she writes,

this person I do not know,

reposted by someone else,

a mere acquaintance.

“Wage peace.”

I know what she means,

but my mind jumps to the minimum wage,

which does not provide much peace.

Besides, peace seems the minimum of wages due

when I sink into my pillow at the end

of a day of diligent and otherwise

unpaid work.

But that’s not what this person means

when she writes, “Wage peace.”

She means, of course, to counter

the waging of war, to say that

instead of engaging in war,

we must engage in peace.

But my mind jumps to

that other form of wage:

wager—a bet or a pledge.

Now the meaning splits wide open.

Pledge yourself to peace.

Bet on peace.

Risk it all

on the hope

of peace.

This, I think, is both wage and wager.

So I pass it on to friends,

to mere acquaintances,

to strangers

as we link thoughts,

hopes,

dreams,

bets.

I lean in close.

“Wage peace,” I write.

“Pass it on.”

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week – at a safari park:

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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Magic of the Ordinary

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I would say it’s magical—

although it can be explained—

the way the pepper bush hides

within a pale, flat, round seed

snuggled in the warm dirt,

the way it wakes only when it’s ready,

the way it unfurls arrow-shaped leaves,

stretches thin arms to bask in sunshine,

flirts with wind,

revels in rain,

and smiles in small white blooms.

I know this can be explained,

but it seems magical,

the way those blooms shed petals

and take on pale green skin,

the way they curve and grow longer each day,

turning gold,

blushing orange,

deepening to red,

every day ripening

smooth, shiny, plump.

I pluck them free,

split them,

scoop out scores of seeds,

pale, flat, round,

magic,

for inside each

hides a pepper bush ready to emerge

when the time is right.

I dice these plump, ripe peppers,

stir-fry them,

taste their snappy sweetness,

and marvel at the goodness of the garden.

All of this can be explained,

I know.

But I say

it’s magical.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate the seeds of 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

We Bring Things

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We bring things for our people—

armfuls of leaves and petals and stems.

We bring things for our people—

paints of red and daffodil yellow,

sea blue and forest green,

poems of peace

and questions for musing.

With outstretched hands,

we bring ourselves—

our seeking souls

our open hearts.

We bring things for our people,

and it’s like bringing the sunshine.

– kh –

I wrote this about being a facilitator/teacher at Art & Soul Nashville, a community of intuitive artmaking where I take classes and sometimes teach. Who are your people? What do you bring them? What do they bring you? In what communities or friendships do you find peace? Count yourself blessed.

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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.