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I celebrate that it’s possible to miss someone I never met, whose name I didn’t even know.

Whenever I drove down Main Street in our little Oregon town, there was a man in a wheelchair, waving at passing traffic. He wore oversized red gloves, fuzzy and bright, to catch the eyes of passing drivers. His patriotic top hat featured stars, stripes, and a shape reminiscent of The Cat in the Hat by Dr.… READ MORE

A dear friend is sitting on the couch across from me. There is a look of sleeplessness and worry on her face. She is, by her own admission, weary under the weight of the questions and fear – big, gut… READ MORE

I take refuge from the road in the Oregon Garden, in the small town of Silverton. Within its gorgeous eighty acres, gardeners cultivate more than flowers, plants and trees. They also cultivate medicine—whether or not they know it. Many come for the garden’s healing gifts; especially the elderly, it seems.

The holistic nature of healing is as ancient as illness itself. It’s been intimately familiar to me… READ MORE