I’ve been trying to ignore it, to pretend that it’s okay, that ultimately I’m not this body, so why fuss about things I can’t control, and no need to create more suffering in the world by not allowing things to be just as they are, and maybe it’s just con-trails, and maybe I’m wrong that […]Read More What Is The Shit In The Sky Coming Out Of The Asses Of Airplanes?
“The most important thing is to know~what is the most important thing?” ~ A Very Wise Person This summer I practiced loving-kindness meditation like my life depended on it, and in a way it did. I spent a week exploring the dark rigid places in my heart, the places that had, up until this point […]Read More The Most Important Thing
I’m in Bellingham Washington, sitting on our little red sofa in our little pink flamingo splashed travel trailer drinking a glass of Columbia Valley red and writing to you. I just got back from walking the dogs. It’s ten after nine, and the sun is just about, but not quite, settled. The days here are […]Read More Ramblings From the Road
Blog-Hop! My friend Shannon asked me to say a little something about my writing for a blog-hop, a sort of virtual “tag-you’re-it!” for those of us who write in these spaces… 1) What am I working on/writing? I just finished Week 12 in The Artist’s Way, the classic self-help course for creative recovery. I’ve […]Read More Blog -Hop!
Holy crap! I haven’t said a damn thing in over four months! At least not a peep outta me in this white box. I took some time this morning to reflect on my lack of blog inspiration. Why haven’t I had the energy or focus to untangle my hefty pile of thought knots? I now […]Read More Now, Where Was I?
Saturday my friend Candy and I went to see a psychic. After three hours spent sipping champagne, nibbling on salty organic chocolate, and refusing to play follow-the-leader in a painting class, we had two free hours to play before our holiday work party. Instead of doing something obvious like dropping into a bar and continuing […]Read More The Fortune Teller’s Daughter
She is the me who asked me on a date for tea. The me who is she were once strangers, you see. Who wanted a story. She is the me with lighter hair and thinner thighs. The me a smidge ( a tiny bit ) older. Who terrorizes with stories about what will happen to […]Read More She is the Me