profile

T. Thorn Coyle

A sign on a wood utility pole: This is not a time for disbelief. This is a time for new beliefs. A time to remake the impossible.
Featured Post

Remaking the Impossible

Hello friends, On one of my recent walks, I saw a sign stapled to the utility pole which read: “This is not a time for disbelief. This is a time for new beliefs, a time to remake the impossible.” Yes, indeed. It is also a time to take stock of what we do believe. What are our ethics? What are our core values? How do we wish to live? When we focus only on what we do not want, we tilt the world in that direction. Our thoughts and emotions become consumed, our bodies and actions dragged into the...

close up of a cluster of pink manzanita buds amid pointed green leaves

Hello friends, When I was a teen, one of my favorite films was Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi. With a score by Philip Glass, it portrayed a world that moved too quickly, a human made world that had become too mechanized, too out of control. The title was said to mean “life out of balance” from a compound Hopi word that roughly translates—or so my research shows—corrupted or chaotic life or existence. That film made a powerful impression on my young self. I sat in the dark theater as the...

camellia flowers on a wet sidewalk

Hello friends, As I write this, cold, hard rains have returned after a brief false spring. The tulip magnolia buds that were just beginning to bloom lay in husks on damp sidewalks. Pink camellias lay in slick heaps, a danger to those without sturdy shoes. There’s a lot of danger in the world right now, for far too many of us. One thing that is getting me through is gratitude. In the wash of bad news, I see people showing up for one another. I see communities rallying to protect themselves and...

looking up at a camellia bush with rich pink flowers and glossy green leaves framed by blue sky.

Hello friends, Today is International Women’s Day. This day began in the US but shifted to an international project in 1911, as a way to uplift women’s rights and demand social and economic change. As you can imagine, women’s global rights in the early 20th century were sorely lacking. During late March of the year IWD was first celebrated, the terrible Triangle Factory Fire happened in New York, giving a stark reminder that the lives of working women were daily at stake. 140 women...

purple crocus flowers wide open in the sun

Hello friends, We’re in the midst of a glorious false spring here in Portland, Oregon. Crocuses are blooming, and plum trees and daffodils are showing small buds. The air is cool and fresh, the sun shines, and yesterday, a small red finch scoped out the front porch of our 108 year old home, seeing if there’s a good spot to nest. Finches nested on our porch a couple of years in a row a few years back. Seeing that finch lifted my heart. Seeking a place to nest is a sign of hope. There is a...

a wall mural under gray sky. Wake up to what's possible. a painted campfire and lake scene.

Hello friends, While on a walking break from the writer’s conference I taught at last weekend, I paused to snap a picture of a wall mural. It was advertising something—toasted English Muffins, I believe—and showed a mountain scene, with trees, lake, and sky, and people entertaining each other with song around a campfire. But besides the incongruity of such a beautiful scene marketing a breakfast bread, it was the message that stopped me: “Wake up to what’s possible.” What's Possible mural by...

Two crows, gathering nuts in the snow, one taking flight.

Hello friends, We had one of our rare snow days here in Portland, Oregon. When snow arrives here, it stays for a week at the most. This week’s storm lasted for all of twenty-four hours. That sort of snow is a pleasure to walk in, and a pleasure to watch from the warmth and comfort of our 108 year old home. Others are not so fortunate, I know. Before the storm hit, our household contributed to a hotel fund for some folks who live on the street. And, as the temperatures reached freezing in the...

a sticker of lungs with the cosmos inside, slapped on a metal pole.

Hello friends, I started this newsletter at the beginning of the Covid pandemic, and named it Keep Breathing. The name was partially in reference to this new, frightening illness, but also harkened back to everything I’d taught and practiced for years: To pause and take a conscious breath is to be present with what is. To pause and take a conscious breath is to open to possibility. There is life in a single breath. And there is magic. We breathe with the trees and the plants. We breathe with...

candle flame: Holy Brigid: In these times of conflagration That engulf the skies at night… Light the fire that guides our way. Kindle within us the flame of inspiration.  We speak your name.   Holy Brigid: In these times of grief and anger And these days

Hello friends, In Ireland, many people honor Brigid and the holiday of Imbolc on February 1st and 2nd. Some others of us do the same, around the world. February is an in between, liminal space. Still winter, but with the promise of spring. In the northern hemisphere, the sun is strengthening, but the nights are still long and cold. Much of the world is in another transition right now. We all must find ways in which to be, to help, and to survive. Here is a poem I wrote for Brigid one decade...

digital collage of an anatomical heart over pages of book. Text reads: Don't wait for a perfect moment to help someone. We best rescue each other in daily heartbeats

Hello friends, Take a deep breath. Tune into your body. How do you feel? Are you tired? Jumpy? Energized? Agitated? Exhausted? All of the above? Take another deep breath. How is your heart? I don’t even want to begin to assign possible markers for your emotional state, because the possibilities are so personal, always, but especially right now. Some of us are alone. Some of us are caretakers. Some of us need care. Some of us are caregivers who also need care. Some of us are busy. Some don’t...