Let the healing begin.
On this (and every) day, bless our hearts. Bless our well-educated and sure hearts. Bless our less educated and unsure hearts. Bless our blind spots and bless our clear vision. Bless our scared, disenfranchised hearts and our sure-footed ones. Bless our angry hearts and our hearts filled with love. Bless …
remember.
I am not interested in political statements or warnings or diatribes on this anniversary of 9/11. I’m not inclined to write a post about how we’ve lost our way in the years since then, about how the terrorists have won if their goal was to irretrievably break this country apart …
How to love unconditionally.
I’ll admit it. I have a rough track record on this one, loving unconditionally. I expect more from people sometimes, and sometimes I have been betrayed or lost enormous amounts of money because of loving (and trusting) unconditionally. But I still try. I’m trying. I’m learning. Who was my best …
Hide and seek
“KEEPING QUIET” BY PABLO NERUDA Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still. For once on the face of the earth, let’s not speak in any language; let’s stop for one second, and not move our arms so much. It would be an exotic moment without …
thinking thursday : deep and light subjects you need to know about all in one
MIND This is a long read, and so worth it. A woman is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Think you’ve read stories like this before? You haven’t. This is why I started taking mandolin lessons. BODY So close. So damn close to being saved. In case you’re having a rough time of …
In a world of danger, we use what we can.
When I was little, I thought that if I held my tongue up over my front teeth, nothing could happen to them. So, for example, if I fell down the stairs at school (not at home, silly; only rich people had two story houses), and got my tongue up there …
What I learned about Prince from tuning my piano
The cherry wood is likely a faux finish. It didn’t matter. This was the spinet piano I grew up playing, taking lessons from Mrs. Myrtle Muench from the time I was four and my feet didn’t hit the pedals, to when I graduated from high school. I walked to her apartment …
Speak Me a River: Resurrecting the Lost Art of Conversation
Every so often, a friend of my husband’s from elementary school flies across the country and comes to visit. It is in these moments that I am reintroduced to the lost and lovely art of the conversation. Hours-long talks over three days, the sort that have no intention, no agenda, …
thinking thursday : a trip around the web
MIND If you can’t see the world, you can read the world. The first boy diagnosed as autistic was born in 1933. Do you need to quiet your frazzled mind? BODY How about some brutally honest illustrations of adulthood? In case you are planning a funeral, here’s a list that …
Poetry Wednesday : The Art of Disappearing
I, too, carry this poem with me to remind me of the “no,” of all those times I should become a cabbage in order to remember what is important.
