where is the line

October 22nd, 2012

Sometimes I’m asked about a certain line.

Where is the line between my needs and my family’s needs?

Where is the line between time away and time at home?

Where is the line between doing too much and not doing enough?

Where is the line between taking care of myself and taking care of everyone else?

Where is the line between inside and outside?

Between you and me?

Then and now?

Happy and sad?

Laughter and tears?

And I respond:

There is no line.

Look up, look around, see what needs to be done. There is no line, no wall, no gate, no limit, no barrier, no lock or key, and no one stopping you, except that one who has stopped to look for a line.


  1. The world is grey. Thanks Karen.

    Comment by Bobbi — October 22, 2012 @ 7:52 am

  2. I was sooo close to meeting you in DC this weekend. But I had to return back home that morning. Coming to Boston anytime??

    Comment by Erin Wheatley — October 22, 2012 @ 2:21 pm

  3. Yep.

    Comment by Jena — October 22, 2012 @ 4:13 pm

  4. Karen-what a great post. You’re right, it’s only when we stop to ask us where we SHOULD be that we see a line.
    Love it!

    Comment by Nichi — October 22, 2012 @ 8:38 pm

  5. On New Year’s Eve, at Kripalu last year, our teacher Rolf Gates suggested, “what if there were no line?” I’d never thought of that before. All weekend, I saw the line, and then watched it disappear. But then I came home, and forgot, and started making lines again. Thank you for this eloquent reminder. There is no line. Will try to remember that, if only for today.

    Comment by Katrina Kenison — October 23, 2012 @ 7:12 am

  6. Thank you for this. There are a few lines that I keep thinking I see around me – I need to remember they are a figment of my imagination.

    Comment by Kimberley McGill — October 23, 2012 @ 3:36 pm

  7. […] and right, between morning and night, between now and then and later, between doing and being. There is no line. But to everything, there is a season. Between seasons, there are no borders. Blur the edges. Bleed […]

    Pingback by She Sells Seashells « — December 4, 2012 @ 3:14 am

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