A Light Story To Soften Your Day.

The day was winding down.

It had been overcast until the last few hours when the sun re-appeared to add its touches to the evening. I had just finished my dinner in the room with sky-high windows. Taking the last bite, I turned toward the mountains for a fuller view, dessert if you will.

The landscape had been scrubbed clean from the last few days of downpours. Now, with a bright nod from the setting sun, the colors below and beyond the mountain ridge turned especially dramatic.

But something felt different than usual…

There was, yes, the standard backdrop of mountain midnight blue, deepening as evening approached. And tonight the blue was so strong, I closed my eyes to invite the depth of that blue into the center of me.

This is the blue I welcome when I most need reassurance and strength. Confidence. A strong foundation.

Some days the mountains offer deep sky blue or dark slate blue. Other days, Dodger blue, cornflower blue, steel blue. There’s plenty of blue in these mountains and these mountains share.

Across the valley, each blade of grass, every tousle-headed bush and tree was dressed for the evening in a favorite spring shade of green. And thanks to the generous sun, the green finery was awash in spectacular light. 


As the sun slowly descended to the mountain ridge to my left, a colossal pile of brilliant white clouds moved in with unusual speed and accuracy, setting the stage for a possible grande finale, a last call for luminosity.

The process seemed faster and showier as if to say, pay attention! So I stood and waited. And watched.

There was a bright tension developing.

Cloud after cloud moved swiftly in front of the dropping sun, harnessing the light, holding it back, reigning it in, creating a light gate — one which began almost immediately to strain mightily at the seams.

There was, after all, unlimited light pushing from behind.

I wondered about capacity. Did the light gate have its limits? Would it burst? I noticed I was holding my breath.

Then, when it could hold no more, without announcement or fanfare, the light gate simply yawned. Or opened to speak, I’m not sure.

Through the gaping cloud mouth shot so much light! Over the valley it careened, worlds of light, galaxies of it — pouring, pouring — a breathtaking, awe-inspiring light slam!

The light did not spread evenly over the valley. Instead, the open gate sent one bold blast of blazing light through a single line of poplar trees, pouring so much light into them, they glowed with green fire.

The poplar leaves, light-drenched from every angle — top, bottom, sideways — became fluorescent green, radiant from within. I wondered how they felt being so loaded with light!

Taking a deep breath, I thought about humanity and how we might relate to the pouring of brilliant light. We humans can, after all, focus streams of love and light from our own eyes and heart out to the world. We can direct our light. Our love.

What if we did that — more? What if we waited to communicate until we were bursting with light? What if (then and only then) we opened our light gate to speak? What would change on the world stage? Or at home?

On other days, we’d be a poplar tree, drenched in light from another. We’d let the incoming light infuse us, inspire us, light our way.

I put my hand on my heart, running for my phone to see about a picture. But in the seconds required to reach for my other eyes, the cloud gate closed its mouth and that was that.

Light across the valley softened instantly. Tall trees relaxed. The soft greens below pulled a dark, cool sheet of midnight blue over and settled into the quiet of the evening.

Gradually, night came.

Witnessing the light shot, feeling the power of that much focused radiance has changed me. I’m not quite sure what happened to my understanding of life, or to my heart, or my soul, but I can tell you I (and those trees) will never be quite the same.

What I can say is that a deeper understanding of the power of light went into my bones. Light speak is more clear to my heart-being. My belief in our human connection to nature has never been more pronounced. Could there be a better partner for humanity than nature? I don’t think so.

That nature goes to the trouble of arranging a sky full of clouds and light to make a point, to show a truth — I’m not sure if I’ll ever understand the enormity of that kind of love. 


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100 Words: The Scoop On True Partnership

Why bother to save a marriage on the rocks? Perhaps it would be smarter to start over. Get something shiny and new, like with shoes or a car.

Why be in a relationship? Do you know why anyone gets together with another to create a life?

One answer rules: We think it will make us happy.

But often it doesn’t.

What if marriage is only about rising up to become your best YOU? If true, this intent is not accomplished in idyllic circumstances. One must be questioned, opposed, challenged.

Now isn’t that partner of yours helping more than you thought? 

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100 Words: All That Falls

Do you love things that plummet? Water over the ledge, splashing delight?

Do you adore rain falling in sheets, or velvet drapes plunging into a royal red pile on the stage of life?

And how about wisteria, drenching spring in lavender, how the breathless beauty falls through the cracks, over fences, softening the edges?

Then there is the matter of the knees. How they fall to the strong floor of the Earth when all is lost, or seems to be.

With exquisite attention, you notice the world lifting, holding you steady saying, “Let me teach you, my darling, about love.”

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100 Words: What’s Cookin’ In Your Relationship Kitchen?

My daughter went to the kitchen to get a snack and returned crestfallen. “There’s nothing to eat,” she reported. “There are only ingredients.”

A love relationship is a kitchen full of sweet, savory, salty and spicy. I have ingredients (beliefs, personality, habits). You have ingredients, too. But how will they blend?

Are we good cooks? With what you’ve got and what I’ve got, will we create a wonderful saute? Will our relationship be sweet? Or will the cake fall?

Today, I’ve got anchovies and you — rocky road ice cream. This will be interesting.

It’s OK. There’s always another meal coming.



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100 Words: On Spring Cleaning (for Bodies)

You could call it a diet. You could call it eating less or eating differently. I call it spring cleaning.

Why not give the body a chance to reduce clutter — let it lighten up along with my mind, my heart? It’s only fair.

However, I’ve discovered this plan to welcome Spring eating habits requires full and unwavering cooperation.

Spring body cleaning has nothing to do with refusing cupcakes, but rather saying yes — more often — to what’s most important.

Yes to a light heart, happy body, full energy.

Come with me, won’t you? Say yes to self-care, and a lighter Spring!

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Terri Crosby

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