#newbeginnings — Public Fediverse posts

Beyond the Pale

Stepping outside after an early-morning breakfast with friends, I carry a cinnamon roll to go for my wife, still warm in my hands.

The morning reveals itself slowly through fog and mist. Distant trees fade into white. Flags hang limply in the damp at half-mast.

I sit in the truck and watch traffic pass as people begin their day, and I wonder what mine will be.

Nearby, in the nursing home, a woman breathes slowly in and out, somewhere near the edge of crossing over.

Across the road, behind the thrift store where I used to work, another woman gazes out toward the marsh.

Next door, a man in work clothes walks from his truck into the Marathon gas station beneath the lowered flags, perhaps buying what he will eat for lunch.

Ordinary lives moving through an ordinary morning.

I think back over the recent conversations, wondering where the words will take us today.

Through the windshield, I see the geese rise from the marsh into the mist above the watching woman, beginning their long migration.

As they disappear into the white, I think of the trajectory of my own life. What flights will my body and spirit still make? Where am I going from here?

Such are my thoughts sitting here in a restaurant’s parking lot across from a former place of employment. I will probably drop by in a moment to say hello to past co-workers and others I have gotten to know. There are still connections—memories of those days, the people, the routines, the work itself.

I am grateful for my work there, for the continued friendships, but I am also grateful for the additional time I have now.

Time to pursue creative things.

Time to follow different flights.

Time to be more available for ministry.

Time, perhaps, simply to be more present to mornings like this one.

The watcher leaves her post.

The worker heads out to the job site.

The dying takes another trembling breath.

The trees in the distance are barely visible through the fog. I can see their shapes, but not their details.

The rest of this day feels much the same.

There are glimmers of what I might do, possibilities taking shape somewhere ahead, but nothing has been fully revealed yet.

That is true not only of this morning but of the rest of my life.

I can make out a few shapes in the distance.

A few directions.

A few possible flights.

But much of it remains hidden in the mist of the unknown.

For now, it is enough to sit here with the gift of a warm cinnamon roll beside me, watching the geese disappear beyond the pale, and trust that the way will reveal itself as I go.

Beyond the Pale

Stepping outside after an early-morning breakfast with friends, I carry a cinnamon roll to go for my wife, still warm in my hands.

The morning reveals itself slowly through fog and mist. Distant trees fade into white. Flags hang limply in the damp at half-mast.

I sit in the truck and watch traffic pass as people begin their day, and I wonder what mine will be.

Nearby, in the nursing home, a woman breathes slowly in and out, somewhere near the edge of crossing over.

Across the road, behind the thrift store where I used to work, another woman gazes out toward the marsh.

Next door, a man in work clothes walks from his truck into the Marathon gas station beneath the lowered flags, perhaps buying what he will eat for lunch.

Ordinary lives moving through an ordinary morning.

I think back over the recent conversations, wondering where the words will take us today.

Through the windshield, I see the geese rise from the marsh into the mist above the watching woman, beginning their long migration.

As they disappear into the white, I think of the trajectory of my own life. What flights will my body and spirit still make? Where am I going from here?

Such are my thoughts sitting here in a restaurant’s parking lot across from a former place of employment. I will probably drop by in a moment to say hello to past co-workers and others I have gotten to know. There are still connections—memories of those days, the people, the routines, the work itself.

I am grateful for my work there, for the continued friendships, but I am also grateful for the additional time I have now.

Time to pursue creative things.

Time to follow different flights.

Time to be more available for ministry.

Time, perhaps, simply to be more present to mornings like this one.

The watcher leaves her post.

The worker heads out to the job site.

The dying takes another trembling breath.

The trees in the distance are barely visible through the fog. I can see their shapes, but not their details.

The rest of this day feels much the same.

There are glimmers of what I might do, possibilities taking shape somewhere ahead, but nothing has been fully revealed yet.

That is true not only of this morning but of the rest of my life.

I can make out a few shapes in the distance.

A few directions.

A few possible flights.

But much of it remains hidden in the mist of the unknown.

For now, it is enough to sit here with the gift of a warm cinnamon roll beside me, watching the geese disappear beyond the pale, and trust that the way will reveal itself as I go.

Beyond the Pale

Stepping outside after an early-morning breakfast with friends, I carry a cinnamon roll to go for my wife, still warm in my hands.

The morning reveals itself slowly through fog and mist. Distant trees fade into white. Flags hang limply in the damp at half-mast.

I sit in the truck and watch traffic pass as people begin their day, and I wonder what mine will be.

Nearby, in the nursing home, a woman breathes slowly in and out, somewhere near the edge of crossing over.

Across the road, behind the thrift store where I used to work, another woman gazes out toward the marsh.

Next door, a man in work clothes walks from his truck into the Marathon gas station beneath the lowered flags, perhaps buying what he will eat for lunch.

Ordinary lives moving through an ordinary morning.

I think back over the recent conversations, wondering where the words will take us today.

Through the windshield, I see the geese rise from the marsh into the mist above the watching woman, beginning their long migration.

As they disappear into the white, I think of the trajectory of my own life. What flights will my body and spirit still make? Where am I going from here?

Such are my thoughts sitting here in a restaurant’s parking lot across from a former place of employment. I will probably drop by in a moment to say hello to past co-workers and others I have gotten to know. There are still connections—memories of those days, the people, the routines, the work itself.

I am grateful for my work there, for the continued friendships, but I am also grateful for the additional time I have now.

Time to pursue creative things.

Time to follow different flights.

Time to be more available for ministry.

Time, perhaps, simply to be more present to mornings like this one.

The watcher leaves her post.

The worker heads out to the job site.

The dying takes another trembling breath.

The trees in the distance are barely visible through the fog. I can see their shapes, but not their details.

The rest of this day feels much the same.

There are glimmers of what I might do, possibilities taking shape somewhere ahead, but nothing has been fully revealed yet.

That is true not only of this morning but of the rest of my life.

I can make out a few shapes in the distance.

A few directions.

A few possible flights.

But much of it remains hidden in the mist of the unknown.

For now, it is enough to sit here with the gift of a warm cinnamon roll beside me, watching the geese disappear beyond the pale, and trust that the way will reveal itself as I go.

Beyond the Pale

Stepping outside after an early-morning breakfast with friends, I carry a cinnamon roll to go for my wife, still warm in my hands.

The morning reveals itself slowly through fog and mist. Distant trees fade into white. Flags hang limply in the damp at half-mast.

I sit in the truck and watch traffic pass as people begin their day, and I wonder what mine will be.

Nearby, in the nursing home, a woman breathes slowly in and out, somewhere near the edge of crossing over.

Across the road, behind the thrift store where I used to work, another woman gazes out toward the marsh.

Next door, a man in work clothes walks from his truck into the Marathon gas station beneath the lowered flags, perhaps buying what he will eat for lunch.

Ordinary lives moving through an ordinary morning.

I think back over the recent conversations, wondering where the words will take us today.

Through the windshield, I see the geese rise from the marsh into the mist above the watching woman, beginning their long migration.

As they disappear into the white, I think of the trajectory of my own life. What flights will my body and spirit still make? Where am I going from here?

Such are my thoughts sitting here in a restaurant’s parking lot across from a former place of employment. I will probably drop by in a moment to say hello to past co-workers and others I have gotten to know. There are still connections—memories of those days, the people, the routines, the work itself.

I am grateful for my work there, for the continued friendships, but I am also grateful for the additional time I have now.

Time to pursue creative things.

Time to follow different flights.

Time to be more available for ministry.

Time, perhaps, simply to be more present to mornings like this one.

The watcher leaves her post.

The worker heads out to the job site.

The dying takes another trembling breath.

The trees in the distance are barely visible through the fog. I can see their shapes, but not their details.

The rest of this day feels much the same.

There are glimmers of what I might do, possibilities taking shape somewhere ahead, but nothing has been fully revealed yet.

That is true not only of this morning but of the rest of my life.

I can make out a few shapes in the distance.

A few directions.

A few possible flights.

But much of it remains hidden in the mist of the unknown.

For now, it is enough to sit here with the gift of a warm cinnamon roll beside me, watching the geese disappear beyond the pale, and trust that the way will reveal itself as I go.

Beyond the Pale

Stepping outside after an early-morning breakfast with friends, I carry a cinnamon roll to go for my wife, still warm in my hands.

The morning reveals itself slowly through fog and mist. Distant trees fade into white. Flags hang limply in the damp at half-mast.

I sit in the truck and watch traffic pass as people begin their day, and I wonder what mine will be.

Nearby, in the nursing home, a woman breathes slowly in and out, somewhere near the edge of crossing over.

Across the road, behind the thrift store where I used to work, another woman gazes out toward the marsh.

Next door, a man in work clothes walks from his truck into the Marathon gas station beneath the lowered flags, perhaps buying what he will eat for lunch.

Ordinary lives moving through an ordinary morning.

I think back over the recent conversations, wondering where the words will take us today.

Through the windshield, I see the geese rise from the marsh into the mist above the watching woman, beginning their long migration.

As they disappear into the white, I think of the trajectory of my own life. What flights will my body and spirit still make? Where am I going from here?

Such are my thoughts sitting here in a restaurant’s parking lot across from a former place of employment. I will probably drop by in a moment to say hello to past co-workers and others I have gotten to know. There are still connections—memories of those days, the people, the routines, the work itself.

I am grateful for my work there, for the continued friendships, but I am also grateful for the additional time I have now.

Time to pursue creative things.

Time to follow different flights.

Time to be more available for ministry.

Time, perhaps, simply to be more present to mornings like this one.

The watcher leaves her post.

The worker heads out to the job site.

The dying takes another trembling breath.

The trees in the distance are barely visible through the fog. I can see their shapes, but not their details.

The rest of this day feels much the same.

There are glimmers of what I might do, possibilities taking shape somewhere ahead, but nothing has been fully revealed yet.

That is true not only of this morning but of the rest of my life.

I can make out a few shapes in the distance.

A few directions.

A few possible flights.

But much of it remains hidden in the mist of the unknown.

For now, it is enough to sit here with the gift of a warm cinnamon roll beside me, watching the geese disappear beyond the pale, and trust that the way will reveal itself as I go.

One Surprising Perk of Getting Older: Fewer Regrets 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/08/22/one-surprising-perk-of-getting-older-fewer-regrets/

Right now, it’s TBD when I’ll be back online to do live posting of sports, lot to unpack

(and yes, I did watch the World Cup while staying at hotel while this house was getting ready, it was relaxing to just watch for once)

#LifeUpdate #MovingDay #NewHome #Unpacking #BackOnline #NewBeginnings

I thought moving would be easy, it’s not.

Lot of unpacking, lot of trips to Home Depot (my wallet hurts so much right now) and also not to mention, transferring job to new location, since it would be too far of commute.

#LifeUpdate #MovingDay #NewHome #Unpacking #BackOnline #NewBeginnings

Hi there.

For those wondering where I was, and why I missed live posting of World Cup and Midsummer Classic, this is why:

Moving. After almost forever in Lake Oswego, thought it was time to move on to new place.

#LifeUpdate #MovingDay #NewHome #Unpacking #BackOnline #NewBeginnings

Shine Your Light (Christian Music) = Just shared: A powerful Christian melody 🎶 - #God #Jesus #TheLord #Praise #ChristianMusic #Bible #Music #Song #SpreadingLove #WalkingInFaith #SpiritualJourney #ChristianYouth #DivineGuidance #FaithAndHope #NewBeginnings #EmbraceYourCalling #EmpoweredByFaith #GloryOfGod #JesusSaves #SpiritualAwakening #UpliftingFaith #PurposefulLiving #EmbracingGrace #SpiritualGrowth #GodsPresence - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhMgnRkJIVE

Got a job offer earlier!
I’m heading to the office this Monday for an interview, and depending on how it goes, I could start soon. Here’s hoping for a bright future! 🙌

#JobOpportunity #NewBeginnings #WeekendVibes

Got a job offer earlier!
I’m heading to the office this Monday for an interview, and depending on how it goes, I could start soon. Here’s hoping for a bright future! 🙌

#JobOpportunity #NewBeginnings #WeekendVibes

After weeks of struggling with my previous institution, I finally made the difficult decision to withdraw. Despite submitting all documentation for disability adjustments early and following up multiple times, there were constant delays. Two weeks just to acknowledge a form (which included full reports and suggested supports) is far too long. These cases often simply need a conversation to confirm adjustments, not endless reviews.

There were also serious communication gaps: classes scheduled on public holidays with no clear guidance, lecturers not turning up, no way to reach them directly via email, and Canvas messages going unanswered. Even when I physically went to campus, staff tried to help but could not get through to anyone with authority to act. It was disheartening, especially because the course content was excellent. However, I’m thankful that I’ve now enrolled elsewhere and begin my studies on June 23. I’m already receiving much better support and feel hopeful moving forward.

#HigherEd #Accessibility #DisabilitySupport #StudentExperience #CPTSD #NewBeginnings

NEWS: Cultivating Change with Farm Transitions Australia

Farm Transitions Australia is a non-profit organization that plays a crucial role in facilitating smooth transitions for farmers, working with them to create a more sustainable future for them, their families, consumers, and the planet.

Did you know that transitioning to environmentally friendly, plant-focused farming uses fewer natural resources to produce crops, which makes them less expensive to operate compared to animal-based farms? Animal-based agriculture incurs 13% more expenses than plant-focused agriculture. While both animal and plant-based agriculture incur losses, the plant-focused industry is twice as profitable as the animal-based industry.

Farm Transitions Australia provides a much needed service to help dairy and meat farmers transition to more sustainable, regenerative and plant-focused practices.

Currently, they are working on Australia’s first farm transition. FTA are working with an Aussie beef farmer to provide him with FREE support to transition his farm into an agritourism hub. PLUS, the more than 800 Angus cows from his farm will get to live their lives in freedom, safe from slaughter!

If you’d like to support FTA’s valuable work, head over to their website: https://farmtransitionsaustralia.org

For more information about Farm Transitions Australia see: https://veganeasy.org/farm-transitions

#farmtransition #newbeginnings #plantfocusedfarming #plantbasedfarming#SustainableAgriculture #supportfarmers #sustainablefuture
#vegan #veganeasy

At this #NewMoon in ♈️ plant a seed for the Universe to tend. 🌱
Put your #intentions out there. #SpringEquinox tomorrow. Big energy for #NewBeginnings.
May all your hopes and dreams manifest for you. 🌷

#AwakeningConsciousness