Author: Mary Beth Emerson

It’s Summer’s end, and it’s very hard for me to let go of my summer “attitude.” This season that’s ending has always allowed me — afforded me — the invitation to have fun, to enjoy rather than endure, to choose joy. Perhaps it’s all deeply embedded in our Kindergarden selves, that Summer is for rest… Continue reading anhedonia

Recently, I’ve been a part of multiple conversations about the intersection of mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. They’ve been bringing me back to that time in my own journey when I was introduced to a spirituality of openness, inclusiveness, liberation, exploration, and the invitation to joy. There is no question in my mind that… Continue reading inextricable

In my tradition, we have liturgical seasons. They have their own colors, which really appeal to my asthetic: we begin the year with blue (or purple), move to white (or gold), go to green, then to purple, then red, then white, short burst of red, then to a loooong season of green. We’re in a… Continue reading sort of ordinary time

Autumn in these parts has been dreary. After a very hot, dry Summer, most of October has been rainy and dark; my mood along with it. An empty teacup sits nearby, drained of the Spiced Chai I’ve come to rely on to help with desk work and deadlines of many an afternoon. My friend and… Continue reading non-negotiables

The older I get, the more time becomes ridiculously fluid. Many days it feels as if I moved to New England just hours ago, and just as many days, it feels as if these past five years have dragged on like decades. Our adult daughter is staying with us for a few days as her… Continue reading soul stice

There’s a thin moon hanging over our house this evening. And some of the solar lights we’ve collected and displayed over the past five years are still in play: a blinking glass flower, two spotlights splashing lichen covered trees, three metal lanterns pouring dim light over an awakening garden bed. It’s early spring in New… Continue reading things enough, and time

There’s a painting in my home office of an approach to Mount Monadnock, where the leading roads are snow-covered and dotted with cottages, and the spaces between leafless trees glow with a lavender dusk or dawn. There are no human figures visible, but when sunlight hits the painting just right (as it’s doing now), the… Continue reading committing to wisdom

It was exceptionally dark this morning. A cold, waning moon hung above the pond, stars invisible behind clouds. It was exceptionally quiet, too; an anticipation of snow. The pre-Christmas traffic I’d been hearing now stilled on Christmas Eve morning. Quoting The New Zealand Prayer Book’s Night Prayer: “what has been done has been done; what… Continue reading nourishing darkness

The Interfaith Council I’m attached to in our community is organizing an event entitled “Remembrance, Resilience and Renewal,” offering reflections on our Pandemic experience from clergy, owners of local businesses, students, first responders and other area folk. Being involved in helping to craft and promote the program, I’ve been cogitating on my own deepest memories… Continue reading inventory

Until I moved North, I’d never fed hummingbirds. I’ve always found them to be mystical, beautiful, scarce. I still perceive them that way, but I also now know them to be solitary, territorial and aggressive. Within minutes of my refilling the feeders positioned around our yard, The Sentinel” swoops in, jealously guarding the precious sugar… Continue reading abundance, scarcity, time