Sunday Best – November 16, 2025
In a temporary triumph over our algorithmic overlords, I have managed to steer most of my online feeds towards gardeners, baby animals, and singers. This means I saw a lot of replays this week of the movie premiere where a so-called fan rushed toward a famed musical lead. Her costars leapt into action, one shoving the man aside and another grabbing her hand – all before the security team could even respond.
Friends, it would be dreadful to tiptoe through each day fully armored-up. But occasionally we are ambushed by life, often without warning and sometimes when we are most defenseless.
Dear ones, when the spoilers leap the barricades,
may fierce protectors surround us.
And when we are the ones to spot the storm,
may we be loving shields.
Sunday Best – November 9, 2025
Dear ones, I have been thinking this week about hope, and how the meanest circumstances are the ones that rob us of it, making hope feel foolish and flimsy. What can we lean on in a hopeless time? Where might there be shelter or comfort or respite? This post from back in the pandemic summer of 2020 held some clues, so I re-share it here, with love.
September 2020
YOU ARE THE PLACE WHERE I STAND ON THE DAY WHEN MY FEET ARE SORE.
This is the literal translation of “mo sheasamh ort lá no choise tinne,” the Irish phrase for trust, as noted by Pádraig Ó Tuama.
As the summer has advanced, I’ve started to see my situation as a kind of fractured fairy tale, one where the character has her wish granted, only to realize it was a foolish and incomplete choice. Here I am, so lucky – healthy and employed and living in a place where I’ve always dreamed of waking up every morning – yet instead of being a dream come true, it’s felt like I’d made the wrong wish.
Then last night I climbed up to the top of the silo to get a better view of the trees I’d just planted, with the beehives I’d tended earlier off in the distance. On one side of the field the deer were eating my smallest apple tree, again, and at the edge of the woods a fox was leaping straight up in the air, and as I squinted into the setting sun I realized with a start, Oh! This is no foolish wish! This place has been holding me up!
Dear ones, even for the luckiest among us, it continues to be a challenging year, and for so many of us, it’s way more than that. But something, somehow, is helping us through. Maybe it’s our faraway best friends on zoom or our spouses who are now also work-from-home colleagues or the nurses that still tend our children with care. Maybe it’s the novel that helps us travel from our living room sofa or the research project that is revealing new insights or the puzzle that gives a little spark of joy when solved. Maybe it’s the tomatoes that our neighbor shared or the smell of the woods after the rain or the way that the late-day sun strikes a flower.
Maybe it’s faith.
Maybe it’s hope.
Maybe it’s love.
Whatever it is, here we are.
Whatever it is, we are here.
And for that, we give thanks.
**You can hear more about this – and many other insights – from this conversation between Pàdraig and Krista Tippett at the terrific OnBeing.
Sunday Best – November 2, 2025
I had an hour free in New York recently, and instead of scrolling through endless emails I hopped down the High Line to see the Calder Circus, a bizarro delight that might be even more enchanting a century after its debut.
Within minutes, I was immersed in an alternate universe, first trying to trace the intricacies of the twisted sculptures and then imagining the acrobats zipping along the guide wires, the horses prancing around the ring, and the lion roaring at the crowd. My imagination was far outpaced by the film of Calder’s own performance, a loop of stunning engineering combined with goofy vignettes.
Next to me, a little kid pulled on his dad’s jacket, saying, Daddy, I wanna play!
Dear ones, life is full of musts. We must finish the report, pay the bill, make the dinner, tend to the chores, catch the train. Thankfully, it’s also full of coulds. We could detour through the park. We could read a poem. We could dance in the kitchen. We could visit a hundred-year-old circus.
Friends, amidst the musts, there are always pockets of coulds.
Let’s play.
Sunday Best – October 26, 2025
I heard an author this week describe the research process both as a deep dive for facts and also as a treasure hunt for historical characters, the ones who can animate a story and carry it forward.
A few minutes later he distinguished between characters and caricatures, noting that the goal is not to craft a simplistic narrative of good versus bad, but something much more interesting, more nuanced, more true to life.
Dear ones, these days, so many of our inputs tell simple and divisive tales.
May we resist the caricatures.
May we explore the messy aliveness of our world.
Sunday Best – October 19, 2025
I was lucky to attend several philanthropic events this past week, and one honoree noted that upon receiving a very prestigious award years ago, he was advised, “This is not a prize. This is a responsibility.”
I have to admit, though I admire the lack of back-slapping reflected in this quote, part of me was thinking, gosh, are we not already hyper-aware of our responsibilities these days? Must we skip straight from the prize to the responsibility, with no time for revelry?
Just a few days later I saw the incredible Mary Robinson receive a different award, and she danced right up to the podium, remarking that if you are going to work on serious things you have to dance and laugh a little at the outset, or you’ll never be able to tackle the tough work ahead.
Dear ones, may we win prizes galore, whether trophies or roses or smiles from loved ones.
May we take up our responsibilities with the devotion they deserve.
May we dance and laugh together, all along the way.
