No Words or No Permission to Say Them?
Edward Hopper is credited with this: “If you could say it with words, there’d be no reason to paint.” I understand what he means, but I’d like to broaden it a bit, because the sentiment applies to writers and poets…
The Essence is the Goal
You tell your story over and over until you find the words and the listener that make everything click. Inspiration works that way, too. Over the years, artist Valda Bailey has provided lots of it, so it should be no…
One Line Leads to This
Well, the post in my email inbox was only one line long and it intrigued me: “I really don’t like cagey people.” Celia Farber wrote it, and I had a feeling I knew exactly what she was talking about, so…
What Are You Being Asked?
I see without glasses now (both literally and figuratively), so when I reread Jane Hirshfield’s poem, “Muslin,” it hit differently than the first time I encountered it, maybe about a year ago. The poet’s words lead me to notice new…
Feeling the Emotions
At least part of each of my days now includes reading old blog posts that I used to spend at least part of each day writing. So many words. So many ideas that belonged to others and that I thought…
Please Don’t Wish Me a Happy Mother’s Day
Why do I hate Mother’s Day? Because one day a year, men tell the world how wonderful their wives are, how much they appreciate them. But the other 364 days? Not worth the words, not worth the effort. The most…
This is How I See it
A few days ago, I came across a heartbreaking video of a bloodied child from Palestine. The woman who shared it is rightly upset about the genocide going on under our noses. She wrote, “Tell me again how offensive and…
Letting Go of Their Needs to Fill My Own
I have become suspicious of anyone who offers, entertains, or allows only two choices: black or white, right or wrong, saint or sinner, pure or contaminated, pro- or anti-. Reality doesn’t work that way. God doesn’t work that way. I…
A Bird on the Wing
A little Clairfontaine notebook with one entry: it was precariously perched among other journals on the shelf in my studio, and its paucity of purpose was bothering me enough to make me take it to my reading nest and use…
Get Behind Me
Once again (twice? thrice? who knows?), I have come across the statement, “Get behind me, Satan.” It was there the night before last when I opened the pages of a notebook. “Get behind me, Satan”: those are the words Jesus…
You Should Probably Be Pissed
“Anger is bad.” “Give me facts not feelings.” “Science is unquestionable.” “Religion equals God.” What do all those statements have in common? They are, quite simply, wrong. Yet that’s not all there is to it: each and every one is…
Bridges and Stories Take Us Where We Need to Go
I had to stop reading the book before bed. Even though it was my second race with Bridge of Clay, and I knew what to expect, I couldn’t take any more of the nights with too little sleep. It wasn’t just…
