Landing Spots

Flies seem to be frantically searching...buzzing this way and that around your head...looking for a good landing spot, I guess. 

A landing spot - a safe reprieve from the frantic search for place and peace. My life often feels like that frantic little fly. I get caught up in all life's options, opportunities and potential disasters. I am fortunate, though, to have landing spots - safe "places" I can land and find my bearings, get some rest, calibrate and find my direction. My home, and the property that surrounds it is one of these. My girlfriend, Kaycie, is a landing spot. The weekly lunches I have with my dad are landing spots. My dog Sam is a landing spot. Spring time and Fall are landing spots, of sorts.

The next time you catch yourself buzzing around and feeling a touch frantic about life, find one of your landing spots and let yourself feel safe for a moment or two. Soak in those moments. Breathe them in before starting to move on again, remembering you can always return to them when needed.


When you're desperate, frantic, angry or at the end of whatever rope you're clinging to, pause and find your breath. If you can't find it, there's no sense in worrying anymore. On the other hand, if you do find it, let your breath's rhythm stabilize you. Then move forward in your journey, reminded that you still possess the cosmos' greatest gift, life itself.


Snowflakes are born unique in the clouds, and they drift down to earth, tossed about and driven by various winds, until they land together, forming one white, faceless mass. Occasionally, however, a snowflake lands upon a mitten and appreciated for the marvelous, distinctive beauty that a snowflake is. And then it melts, unprotected by the cold, indistinct mass of its fellows.

Burning Fields (Not Bridges)

Burn fields, not bridges.

There are relationships we need to burn down. They become toxic for us, and we need to reset without the other person in our lives. Move on, get bent, etc. I used the expression above recently ("burn fields, not bridges"), and a friend replied that sometimes bridges need to be burned. I think I disagree.

When you burn a field, you strip everything down. Anything that was hiding in the tall grass either runs away, is destroyed or is exposed. The roots remain beneath the surface, but for the moment, everything is purged - the good, the bad, that which was already dead, all the creatures who have been hiding and their hiding places, etc. There is once again a wide open field, primed for new growth, new opportunities and new life, no longer choked out by the tangled grasses and weeds of yesterday.

There are relationships worthy of new beginnings, needing purged and revitalized. As my aforementioned friend suggested, however, there are those that are not. For the latter, isn't it still better to just burn the field and not the bridge? Perhaps someday, things will change...perhaps you change...perhaps they change...perhaps the passage of time grants fresh, new perceptions and maturity. Maybe healing becomes possible.

Even if you never enter that field again, I believe there is comfort or emotional health in the knowledge that you could if need be - that you didn't burn the bridge. At the very least, someday you might be able to see it in your memories from afar, not as the tangled mess it became, but resembling the open field, full of promise, vibrancy & life, that you originally knew.