dona sofia is a collection of private thoughts and prayers, tales of both home and journey, of ambition and apathy, magical and mundane, of great joy and sorrow.
I live a quiet—spacious—life in Big Sky Country. Quiet, though never dull. The drama of light play over mountain peaks is ever changing, moving. Storms stampede across the horizon. Wind can be perilous, and the snow is deep. Wildlife visit daily. Otherwise, we are touched by the tragedy and technological advances of the world just like every other place in the US, and the world. To be still is a daily, moment-by-moment choice. I try to choose simplicity and solitude so that I might have space to welcome others into, and an offering of peace for their leaving.
When the red tiled roof of a Spanish mission along the California coast came into view (built between 1769-1883), weary foot travelers knew they would soon find a welcome of sanctuary, a place to receive good food and wine, and rest for body, soul and spirit. I imagine a host waiting at the end of the drive, waving, and even running toward them. After days of walking, vibrant discussion and storytelling took place around the table, their confession would be heard and their sins pardoned. And yes, eventually they’d part ways again with renewed passion and courage, but only after a tight embrace and a blessing at the door.
Whether far or near, we who live in the tension of leaving and coming home again, also long for such a place, don’t we? My hope is that this virtual space, like a Spanish Mission to weary travelers, will be a place of rest and inspiration, laughter, a place of encouragement, and good story.
I pull up a chair to my kitchen table, to donasofia.org, for the practice of it. Doing so brings joy and surrender. Here I find the freedom of online journaling at its best, in small bits, and in a fashion where time and energy is manageable. I dare to be known even in the rough. If a post is lost or stupid, no biggie. If these posts bring life and hope to others, wonderful. In the meantime, these shitty drafts sans the glory of professional photos and graphics and in desperate need of SEO titles, scannable text, and live links, are straight out of the center of my chest.
If you’ve happened into this sacred space, welcome. I’m honored you are here. Please, won’t you pull up a seat? Eat. Drink. I welcome your gentle dialog.
Austin Kleon, author of brilliant books like Show Your Work, suggests that if we share what we love, the people who love the same things will find us. I’m counting on that. In lieu of comments, please consider contacting me directly, or copying my blogs–in their entirety–to your blog to kindly share and discuss.