“The trance of unworthiness keeps the sweetness of belonging out of reach.” – Tara Brach
My first Substack post launches tomorrow! I’m sharing reflections on self-acceptance, #belonging, and authenticity from my Journey to Belonging.
💌 Subscribe: https://bit.ly/4i9Yus1
“The trance of unworthiness keeps the sweetness of belonging out of reach.” – Tara Brach
My first Substack post launches tomorrow! I’m sharing reflections on self-acceptance, #belonging, and authenticity from my Journey to Belonging.
💌 Subscribe: https://bit.ly/4i9Yus1
#Feminism #LifeStory
#Feminism #LifeStory
My #oneword2024 was "bridge," symbolizing connection; instead, it signified transition.
Savour is my #oneword2025 (spelled the British way)!
It is my gentle nudge to
*cherish each moment,
*love without bounds,
*think about others,
*embrace self-reflection.
My #oneword2024 was "bridge," symbolizing connection; instead, it signified transition.
Savour is my #oneword2025 (spelled the British way)!
It is my gentle nudge to
*cherish each moment,
*love without bounds,
*think about others,
*embrace self-reflection.
#kidlit #kidlitwriters #kidlitauthors
#kidlit #kidlitwriters #kidlitauthors
eddilene.edublogs.or...
#journey2belonging
eddilene.edublogs.or...
#journey2belonging
100 years minus 46 days
As her breath fades
Memories flourish
Her legacy lives on.
100 years minus 46 days
As her breath fades
Memories flourish
Her legacy lives on.
The Kuwaiti shelves weighed down
The incense holder, the dell’a coffee pot
The camel on the wall
Each with a story.
The cards from years past
Messages of love and caring
From neighbors, friends, family
Birthdays, Mother’s Days, holidays
The Kuwaiti shelves weighed down
The incense holder, the dell’a coffee pot
The camel on the wall
Each with a story.
The cards from years past
Messages of love and caring
From neighbors, friends, family
Birthdays, Mother’s Days, holidays
Too many to count.
Sealed in albums lovingly placed
After much thought and discussion.
The trophies on the mantle.
Each dance a triumph over ageism.
“88 is just a number.
I can twirl and bend to the music”.
Too many to count.
Sealed in albums lovingly placed
After much thought and discussion.
The trophies on the mantle.
Each dance a triumph over ageism.
“88 is just a number.
I can twirl and bend to the music”.
100 years minus 46 days
Which layer is first to go? Which layer is most important?
Which layer is closest to my heart?
I heard all of your stories
Or most of them, I think.
They’re all important
How many can I fit in my suitcase?
100 years minus 46 days
Which layer is first to go? Which layer is most important?
Which layer is closest to my heart?
I heard all of your stories
Or most of them, I think.
They’re all important
How many can I fit in my suitcase?
A poem for my Mom
from Ilene
A poem for my Mom
from Ilene
#belonging
#belonging