When water is cut off: from Cochabamba to Detroit, by way of my bathroom

We all need water, but we are not all in control of our water supply. [Read more…]

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The power of the song thrush: life, death and the feast of St. John

The Jug of Punch, the song thrush, the summer solstice, the feast of St. John, life, sex, death and singing. What does it all mean?! [Read more…]

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Home.

What home means. [Read more…]

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‘Big’ people are people, too.

Living in Eskdalemuir and not being part of the Samyé Ling community is an interesting experience. It has its advantages. But it’s also strange, in unexpected ways. [Read more…]

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Living and belonging where clouds go to die

Eskdalemuir is a seriously cloudy place. During one period, I swear we didn’t see the sun for 18 months, and last ‘summer’ was a stretch of cloud and temperatures of 10-12 Celsius. But as much as I dream of dryer, sunnier climes, Eskdalemuir is a surprisingly hard place to leave. [Read more…]

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