We live in a world of rapid communication. Whether we are emailing, texting or speaking to each other, our responses are quick. They are expected to be so. Rarely is time taken to pause. To reflect, savor, mull. Though when that does happen, in person, it feels like a magical moment. There is a feeling of presence. Perhaps a deepening of connection.

I often think about things metaphorically. I love to make soup and it feels an appropriate metaphor that resonates with this quote from Martha Graham.

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is…

I am not on a soap box. I am writing these words to myself and wanted to share them with you. Behold Beloved Becoming. I am the beloved. You are the beloved, and we are all, always in the process of Becoming…

Weaving a life lived for community. Putting relationships at the heart of your life. Learning the art of inquiry…’say more’…s l o w e d down conversation. Learning how to “dance” with each other by listening deeply to each other’s stories. Being moved and changed by them.

Is it possible to really hear and witness another’s humanity and…

I returned today from the island I left my husband’s body on almost six months ago. He left his body February 25th, 2020. Some people say he died. Others call it Crossing the Threshold or passing over. Rudolf Steiner called the dead the “so-called dead”. He says the dead never leave us; it is a birth into the spiritual world; a death of the physical body. Well I am sure missing that physical body. His voice, his incredible way of being alive. I guess maybe some people are so-called alive. Not John. He was so genuinely happy to see me…

In each other’s pocket’s is what we’d say. I think it’s an Australian saying for folks who spend a lot of time together and are very close. Twin flames. Attached at the hip. We worked and played together for the ten years we had. We were independent separate beings who were intertwined in the loveliest of ways.

Now the pockets are secret pockets. Pockets of grief. Today , only 68 days since John died, I am feeling the aching missing of him more than ever. The grief is unexpected; a momentary tsunami of aching raw wanting. Wanting to see him…

It’s a great line from a song by Buddy & Julie Miller. “Now that you’re gone, I can’t cry hard enough…”

Hard enough to squeeze out all the grief, cry all the tears. Maybe it’s a good thing. It is possible I could drown with them all flooding out at once.

I am recovering from Coronavirus. Of course. Ten years with no more than a two day head cold but the letdown after after my mom’s and John’s death was just enough to open me up to this big fucking mess. This last punch in the gut after the one…

There will be people who take exception to calling life a disease. I meant it to be funny when I first wrote it. But then I thought about it. Life does have plenty of dis-ease in it. Especially now!

ease /ēz


  1. absence of difficulty or effort.
  2. Similar: effortlessness; no difficulty; no trouble; no bother

3. Opposite: difficulty; uneasy; troublesome; bothersome;


  1. make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) less serious or severe.
  2. “a huge road-building program to ease congestion”

Similar: relieve; alleviate; mitigate; assuage; allay; soothe; soften; palliate

Opposite: aggravate; irritate; harden; stir up; create friction; painful

Our world is…

Fog wrapped all that was there in thickest grey. It appeared I was in front of a vast ocean at the end of the world. Small waves of grey salt water moving towards the house, hypnotic, infinite; Reminding me of the world out beyond the tunnel of caring for my dying husband.

We each have “our world”, the one we create within our communities, work place, families. Most people I know have lived within their world a very long time. Their rhythms are well established, the barista at their local cafe knows them. Maybe they even say hello to their…


I walk a lot these days. There are jewels of lakes on Orcas Island with trails that encircle. There are 4–6 mile loops through woods, farm land, beach and town.

Walking soothes me, unfurls me, allows me to breathe more deeply. I am nourished by visual delights. An astounding array of mushrooms, of mosses, of ferns. Waterfowl delightfully disappearing, adorable heads so black and white in the silver light.

Small glimpses of others lives lived so close by yet so differently. Sand, rock and shell entwined with seaweed crusty with salt. …

Busy with Belongings. Belongings that belong to another, or did.

Not just any other, but my mother. She died. She died on October 14, 2019.

I thought she needed to accept the fact that she was dying, gracefully. Almost 90 she was. Only two months shy. I waxed on about death as the next step in the adventure of life. Her coming meetups with her husband of 40 years. Her three sisters, her Mom and Dad. Her many friends who had preceded her. Just make the most of the time you have left! Enjoy each day to the fullest! I…

Cat Gilliam Cunningham

Joy Activist. Coming soon! New website ThereAreNoStrangers.org Celebrating human connection and playing in the field of LOVE.

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