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…
No Demands
The trees in the forest across the road, where my family and I like to spend time, speak to me of perseverance and acceptance and being. They do being very well, far better than any of us. The fir trees…
What Is Shame Good For?
If you want to break a pattern, respond differently. Such a simple statement. I would call it deceptively simple, and by that I mean more easily said than done. In fact, I would contend that, although responding differently is essential,…
Longing to Be
I recently read an essay that laments the unrest in the world, concentrated, as usual, in the Middle East. Two specific statements (sentiments) shared by the author (editor of an art magazine) caught my attention, because each purports to be…
