For the Writer Who Feels It’s too Late to Write
Last night I had a little airport drama that gifted me with an insight and made me want to write to you immediately. So here I am. My flight from Pittsburgh to Atlanta was delayed enough that when I got to Atlanta, I’d have about seventeen minutes to get from one end of Terminal A to the other end of Terminal B. Anxiety showed up early, before we even landed,
All I Know is to Make Something
In a moment of desperation yesterday, I made crepes. I’m not sure how to write about violence against women, and about it happening directly above where I sleep, last week, in the middle of the night, but I can write about crepes. I can write about coming back into our apartment after a little walk, about the sadness and ache and belly emptiness so vast that all I could know to
If you’re dying to know when you’ll finally be worthy…
When, when will I finally be worthy? That awful corset of a question. It steals my breath, squashes my organs, and dries up my ink. When will I at last allow myself to be here without explaining why I deserve it, why my voice has value, why I warrant your respect, your ear, your investment of time or attention or resources, why I matter? I am weary of the
Blow the Roof Off of Your Life
This morning I blew the roof off of my life. It had been too long since I’d seen the sky. Hungry for blue, for breath, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew the house up. This wolf didn’t want to be let in. I’d been tucked in for a thousand full moons too long – stewing, brewing, suffocating – and I needed freedom. Sometimes it is that simple, you know – to
Litany to Wonder: A New Prayer for the Old-Souled
Today I renamed my blog. I listened to the stirrings of my soul and the hunger in my belly, and I finally dipped my big paintbrush into the pot and wrote it up there in wide, messy strokes, for all to see: Litany to Wonder. This is a small, brave step for me into a vast territory and topic that’s fully captured my attention and my heart: wonder. Down the
Spring Wish-List 2015
in progress… Fresh figs for cold hands. Thank you so much for reading. You might notice that I don’t have a space for comments, but I’m certainly open to conversation about what’s written here. If you’re so inspired, feel free to start a conversation with me via the contact form on the homepage of this site.
Groundhogs, Gratitude, and How We Called Up the Light, Together
In just a week, it will be February 2, a day with quite a buffet of holidays to choose from–Groundhog Day, Candlemas, Imbolc, to name a few. Although the choices vary, they all come down to light. Whatever your pleasure, this week prior feels like a grand time to honor the steps we’ve already taken to be mindful of the light, within and without. On December 18, I took a
I Ate All of the Bacon and Didn’t Save You Any
I ate all of the bacon and didn’t save you any. Well, not ALL of the bacon in all of the land, but all of the bacon we had left, which was three pieces in a large Tupperware container in the freezer, underneath a slip of wax paper that used to hold other bacon that we ate together for brunch two Saturdays ago. I shared that bacon and made delicious
For the Writer Who Hopes…
For the Writer Who Hopes a Story Can Rise Again This morning on my patio, three winter-crusted plants– hydrangea, chrysanthemum, bleeding heart– surprised me with tender buds and leaves. Two I’ve seen resurrect before, but I thought I bid the bleeding heart rest in peace when, at the end of last summer, Thank you so much for reading. You might notice that I don’t have a space for comments,
Why I Use the Word Goddess
This past week, my friend and colleague Erin Donley wrote an article entitled, “Please, stop calling me Goddess!” It raised my hackles. I so appreciate how Erin dives right into the topics that many others shy away from and pokes at the sensitive spots where breath and healing and release are needed. I so appreciate that she reminds women (and men) to stop being “nice” and start being real, and
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