Today is a New Day, Episode 470
We begin our 10th year of Turning Towards Life with a poem about the capacity of our own hearts to meet the newness of each day, and the love and grief of living.
We explore how we can find a way to know our own vastness, capacity and the inherent dignity and sacredness of being a person, and see it in one another... as an antidote and alternative to a world that seems to ask us to be afraid of one another rather than see one another for the precious, irreplaceable life that we each are.
Hosted as always by Lizzie Winn and Justin Wise of Thirdspace.
Our source for this week:
Today is a new day.
Every morning the sun rises.
There is always another train that comes if I stand on the platform.
Another breath arrives without me even asking it to.
My children wake with the kind of enthusiasm that only newness can bring.
So they’re all the evidence I need.
That it’s given, the new day.
And what is a life other than a collection of many, many new days.
And then I start to think about if the days were few.
And maybe they are.
We never know. So each day is new.
Each day is precious.
Each one belongs to us.
And my goodness how we forget this.
How asleep we can be to the gift of the day. The hour. The minute that’s given.
All my stories getting in the way of receiving life.
Getting in the way of remembering.
Protecting myself maybe from that feeling that we really don’t know.
Our days are indeed numbered.
So what shall we do ?
Love. Step forth. Have faith ?
Someone said ‘my heart is full, but oh wait a second, there’s room for more’.
And in that moment, I realised that the fullness of a heart is not even possible.
They are massive, vast, huge, crazy with bigness.
Even if we tried to fill them up we can’t.
There is no end to them, that’s why.
And so grief can’t break us, because our hearts have no edges.
What holds us back from feeling it all is a mistaken understanding that there’s a limit.
But there isn’t.
So with hearts that have no boundaries, we can love and love and love,
and grieve and grieve and grieve.
And our joy has no end either.
So here we are. What shall we do ?
Cups of tea make sense, having a cuddle, writing a poem,
letting the sunlight dance on my warm skin and feel the rain soaking through my trousers.
Lizzie Winn
1st October 2026