writing – Hope's Cafe

When The Muse Surfaces

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

While we lived in Montana we joined a writer’s group just forming. We chose to name ourselves The Sheep Dip Scribes after a former name the town had. There is still a road there by that name.

When we moved back to Tennessee it became harder to stay connected as the two hour time difference ran into other things we are committed to at that time. But I still pay attention to the prompts they send out. My goal to write more now that I am not pastoring full time has been thwarted by a very erratic, inconsistent, frequently in abstentia muse! But this week I determined to respond to the prompt about the seasons. After sitting outside a while, I came in, opened my computer and my errant, scalawag muse appeared. And thus, inspired, the following arose:

Growing up in northern Oklahoma where winters could be harsh, summers brutally hot and wind seemingly incessant, tornadoes a frequent menace, moving to Tennessee was a welcome relief. Here I discovered mild seasons, the occasional snow, summer’s heat mostly displayed in July, rare wind or tornado concerns. Some of that has been altered by climate change yet one thing remains consistent: the transition from summer to fall.

When we lived on the farm that transition was especially evident. There is a gradual mellowing. Spring comes forth triumphant but the aging summer slows as autumn approaches; the insects’ hum becomes a sleepy lullaby, the trees begin to prepare to shed their leaves, the fields once full, now fallow.

I always loved this autumn evolution but I feel it more keenly now as I slow with advancing age, my life reflecting this same changing of the seasons. Threaded through that sleepy lullaby are whispers. I recognize they portend more change to come, potential loss. I am impacted as I grieve the death of a dear friend and witness friends now dealing with ailing spouses suffering terminal illnesses.

I want to embrace this transition as another piece of the whole life experience. But I feel some resistance. I wonder if the trees hang on to their leaves until they absolutely have to give them up or the birds migrating south wish for a bit more time before they make their arduous journey.

Kathleen Emerson Stulce 9/19/2026

One of the things I love about writing is you never know where it will take you.

Once again I turn to the wisdom of others who know something of muses:

A muse can be a mirror: a reflection of the artist’s desires, anxieties, dreams and needs.

Vince Aletti

There are, it seems, two muses: The Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say, ‘It is yet more difficult than you thought.’ It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.

I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to better.

Frida Kahlo

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter. Shalom, Kate

P.S. The movie Jay Kelly starring George Clooney reflects something that my little essay expressed if you are so inclined to watch it.

The Wonders We Seek

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

My first encounter with the quote “We carry within us the wonders we seek” struck me as a kind of ephinany. As a newly trained therapist, this one statement put in perspective that my task involved helping folks find the wonder, the capability, they carried within, to assist them in bringing it out in themselves. I hung a sign with this quote in my office.

Very similar words are attributed to Rumi in the 13th century, but later credited to Sir Thomas Browne, a “polymath,” known for his diverse education in science, religion, and the esoteric. He had a deep curiosity about the natural world and wrote widely with subtle humor.

He was educated at Winchester College, later graduating from Oxford. Browne then began studies in medicine and received his medical degree from Leiden in 1633. His prolific writing careeer was marked by a controversy when he discovered an unauthorized edition of Religio Medici (The Religion of a Physician). This version included “unauthorized religious speculations,” which ultimately got him placed on Papal Index Librorum Prohibitorom, the “banned book list” of its time.

The following year Browne published Pseudodoxia Epidemica, (Enquiries Into Very many Received Tenants, and commonly Presumed Truths) which delved into the prevalence of false beliefs and “vulgar errors.” This was at a time when science was considered “New Learning,” and, as such, somewhat suspect. His book proved helpful in promoting scientific journalism.

Browne’s curiosity is inspiring. That he builds on Rumi’s wisdom about wonders within reminds us that we all have the opportunity to expand on the knowledge and wisdom that has gone before us. And we are enabled to do that with the recognition that “We carry within us the wonders we seek.”

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter. Shalom, Kate

Chain of Gratitude

(Please note: Somehow the quote last week about setbacks did not actually come through when published. It was: “Giving up on a goal is like slashing your other three tires because you got a flat.”

And the blog previous to that included a quote attributed to Albert Camus. I discovered the only sentence that he actually wrote was: “In the depth of winter I finally learned that there lay within me an invincible summer.” Whie the rest was quite lovely, some anonymous person elaborated. My apologies for both lapses in my postings.)

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Café

A dear friend sent me a piece from the New York Times by Melissa Kirsch describing Kirsch’s gratitude practice. Looking to find a fresh approach to the acknowledgement of gratitude, she developed what she calls a “chain of gratitude.” In this gratitude practice, I might give thanks for the fresh cup of coffee I am holding and think of all that went into the making of that coffee, the process that got it to the grocery store, the fact that I had the money to purchase it, the opportunities I’ve had to share a cup with my spouse, with friends. The cup itself reminds me that it was the gift from a friend. I think of all the ways she has been a kind companion through life’s journey.

Tracing a gratitude back to its origin and then forward, I could give thanks for the gift of writing, I could recall how I was encouraged from a young age. I began to show an interest in writing in the fourth grade when some poetry was introduced to us in school. My parents affirmed my early efforts. My father, a printer on the newspaper, brought home end rolls of printer paper on which I began to write stories. My sixth grade teacher would allow me to read my stories to the class. She encouraged the class when we expressed a desire to start a school newspaper and helped us through that process. She became a mentor throughout my life.

In high school I became editor of the school newspaper and throughout college I worked for public relations departments and school newspapers. Along the way I had honorable mention in a story contest and a poem published. At a church where I was a member I offered to write a column for the newsletter. One friend there suggested I should write a book of devotionals. I lived with that thought for years and eventually wrote one. But I knew nothing about publishing. As I was sitting next to a friend at a dinner for chaplains, I suddenly recalled she wrote for a magazine. I asked her if she might have any suggestions for where I might send my book for consideration. Yes, she did! The group she wrote for was just starting to publish books. I went home, sent my proposal to them and heard back the next day!

Along the way I have had writer friends who have encouraged me. This chain of gratitude seems endless and includes the very people who are reading this. I often feel I should give this blog up because I don’t feel it lives up to my standard for my best effort. You deserve better from me, more of my time devoted to writing it well. But when I “make noises” like I might quit, someone will offer some response that keeps me going. Thank you so much for the time you take to read my posts! I am grateful for you!

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter. Shalom, Kate