August arrived, and with something like celestial clockwork the crickets began their nightly ritual, and the morning breezes sent a flurry of yellow leaves floating like delicate ornaments to rest on the grass. Now it’s September, and I have a friend who threatens to arm herself with a glue gun and paste each leaf back…

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This post is about Borobudur, my grandmother, and something magical that manifests from the realm of imagination. The “something magical” is always available to us when we soften our grip and allow the dynamic force of life itself to support our journey. The photographs you see are of Borobudur, a Buddhist temple in Java that…

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