Author: James A. Pearson

Today for the first time in monthsthe sun was strong enoughfor me to sit outside in the afternoon,sipping a cold drink, my body rememberinga season when the world wanted me to be alive, to grow. But that was beforeall the dying I’ve done—whole futures fallen,promises left hanging like fishhooks.Would spring come again, even for me?And… Continue reading A New Spring

Come home tothis body. It’s livingyour life.

Look how many thingsI’ve turned out not to be—what a bitter gift.

You spend your whole lifelooking for something,only to find the world looking back at you,saying, “Yes, please give usthis gift you seek.”

I’m not wishing you failure,or heartbreak, or the lossof who you’ve worked so hardto be. But I’m standing hereon the other side of my owndestruction, my bare feetwarming in the dark soil,and I’m whispering littleribbons into the wind that say,“You’re going to be morethan okay.” You don’t deservethe pain of this world. Butno one arrives… Continue reading More Than Okay

What started as flowersare quickly becoming seeds,brown and heavy on stalksbent low to the earth. I had a dream for my life.It bloomed and witheredand left me laden with—regrets, I thought, and fears. For years the load I carried!Until one day I found itgrowing lighter on my shoulders,and behind me a trail of seeds.

It’s always near the endthat I’m startled into presence—my morning walk nearly over,my coffee down to its last sip.Where have I been? Where didthe middle go? I’ve been askingall my life. But then what’s endingshakes me back into my body,the way autumn calls to youwith its waving yellowsand falling reds: “Witness me!”it seems to shout.… Continue reading Where Did the Middle Go?

A few years ago I felt like my life would never change. It was a year or so into COVID. I’d been working the same job for years, spending evenings and weekends scratching away at figuring what I actually love and how to grow into it. But no matter how much changed inside me, the… Continue reading Gentle Tools for Growth in the New Year

It happens in a moment—this tiny, imperceptible turningwhen all at once the nightceases its imperial advanceand the next morning promisesto dawn just a sigh earlierthan the one before. The world still goes on dyingaround it, and trying to keep itself alive.This is not yet the spring. But huddled in their dens,their nests, their thick forest… Continue reading Winter Solstice

Sit stilland you will finddiscomfort. Sit stillin the discomfortand you will find what needs you.