Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • My life is an empty bowl, a giant white, smooth, shiny, light-reflecting wide-lipped vessel. Every day, I gather bits and bobs of life to fill my bowl. Every night when the day is done, I examine the junk and the treasures I've collected and my spirit accepts it all, good and bad.

    Some of the bits are jagged glass, threatening to cut away the protective flesh from my limbs, and others are bits of glass, roughened and polished by countless waves washing over and over them, creating a bauble. Some are pieces of paper in bright pink origami shapes or yellowed and torn, overdue bills I just don't feel like paying. There are those phone calls I didn't return. It's all in here in my pure white bowl.

    No matter what is in there at night, I know that every morning, I can go to the fields and pick flowers or artichokes or berries for this bowl, or I can go into the back of my closet and try on the old clothes that no longer fit or are out of style, shoes that pinch my heels and remind me of old blisters. It's my choice to live life or endure it. I used to live in that gray space. No more.

    The blessings in life are renewable and personal and magical and always a surprise. No matter what lands in my bowl, it becomes part of me, my memories, my life. And I survive them because I have to. There are no other options. And decades later, the hurts are replaced with those memories that sustain.

    Maybe life stops so we can take a deep breath and rethink it all. The power outside of me, which others choose to call God, knocks on our door and asks us to listen to his guidance and sometimes, the Great Spirit hits us over the head with a two by four and forces us to stop and listen. Tunkasila says and hug yourself. I am here, and my guides are here for you. Reflect.

    Reflection is part of what we do here among friends who hold us in their hands. I certainly revisit many of my own experiences here, with the safety of time and distance. And sometimes, I read something that bring me right back to the scarred place in my heart. All I know for sure, it that tonight, when I reflect on today, I'll have a bowl filled with treasures and detritus from the day to examine all because I showed up for one more day.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.