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Amen, dear Susanne.

And how beautifully you capture the precious present moment, in your words and photos. This latest picture is another lovely melding of the mundane and ethereal...a quality that always seems to transport me to that place in time. You see, you're creating dreams for others! I'm so sorry you continue to struggle, but am so grateful to hear your voice again. You're very special.

Nice to have you back.

Take care

Hi Susanne,

I'm sorry to hear you're ill. I'm glad to hear from you, though.

We don't know each other, but for years, I've come to read you. Your talent with words always amazes me, even if by now I should know I'll always find beauty in your words. My goodness, I wish I knew you.

Take care and all the best,


If you squint hard those two streamers could be Banon's ears:0)
By the way this precious present moment, it aint about achieving but being, living and life, and there is no size requirement that makes it good or bad it just is. Measurement is so foolish fo a moment you'd take all your life just trying to measure it and each time you lifted the tape it'd be gone or more accurately. It would be, gone!
Take care.

I don't remember how I came across your blog -- it was probably a year and a half or so ago -- but I was just thinking yesterday that I'd hadn't seen a post in a while and hoped that you are well. Your words and images are always so beautifully thought out, and they always help me to take a deep breath and think about what is important.

Thank you so much for that.

Take care,


I'm so sorry you are not well - but relieved to hear from you.

Susanne, I too am sorry to hear of you illness. I've been away from blogs for a bit and have only just returned to read your latest post.

Your final sentences go to the heart of it. May the days ahead be a series, one after the other, of limitless present moments for you.

This epilogue from Mary Oliver's newest book seems apropos to where you are at right now, Susanne. I am so sorry that your life has been narrowed down so much. I'll be running this epilogue on my own blog to go along with a post on Athens tomorrow.

Thinking of you--and please try to post more often so those of us who care for you know you are OK.

Thirst Mary Oliver

Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

Very happy to see you are here, the more one dreams instead of doing I find the more real those dreams and memories become.
Sending healing thoughts,love the photos.

I am another one who lives with chronic illness. I have read your blog for years without really commenting much, but I want you to know that through your journey and through the years, your words have meant so much more to me than I can convey. I am relieved that you are posting again, and finding a measure of acceptance as you continue on. I think acceptance is the most difficult part of the experience. I've found that after I accept my different way of being, I am much more open to possibilities that do exist for me. Thank you, Suzanne.

Sorry I have been absent for a while. I have always enjoyed my visits here and continue to do so.But I am sorry to hear about this awful challenge. There is srength in your words and still Hope yet for the activities you mentioned. Do stay with it!

Love your blog. You're now on my blogroll!

I am glad to see you are here. I hope you will be well very soon!

I agree with Michaela, your sensible words also make me think about what is important in life.

Nodding - to be able to let go gracefully of who I used to be - an ongoing lesson in humility and gratitude.

I will hold you in my thoughts.

Today, right now, you're in my thoughts and prayers.

Just checking in to say "Hello"!


Should I try to understand what I feel? Should I just let the day pass and know that tomorrow- I live, still I breathe. It’s difficult to loan myself out, Most of all, to my trial and error. Lessons taught- shame on me. I watch this image grow, feeling thoughts feed, while nurturing the thaw. The relief of an addiction escapes me-to do without. The suffrage of urge, the trauma of self guidance. The pain is my freedom.

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