Little shifts, hopping tracks.
Tag: Writing
The Ground Shakes
Our "new" reality where nothing is certain.
Scared Shitless
Experiences in adult potty training, a reflection on the little moments that shape us.
Just Read to Me
Library books. The sound. The smell. Crinkling plastic, shiny pages, inky and metallic. A fading film picture of three sun-baked, knobby-kneed boat kids. Two bright blond, one red-head, 1980’s home-sliced haircuts, generous in the bangs, efficient to keep salty hair out of eyes. Wearing undies and oversized shirts, leaning in transfixed around a weary mom … Continue reading Just Read to Me
Ten-Year Plan, at Nine
“Mmm...I’m not as excited for my birthday as I was last year,” she says seriously. Eight-almost-nine seriousness. Confident and sullen. Maybe she will be more like her aunt after all. God help her... “I don’t want to grow up," she says from her bunkbed, flipping through a picture book. "I wanna stay a kid.” “Ah, … Continue reading Ten-Year Plan, at Nine
Dwelling in Ireland
Continued from - "I Am a Writer" And so I was in Europe, my first time, arrived by epic adventure across an ocean, and all I could do was huddle against the damp Irish chill in my father’s down sleeping bag, glued to Caribbean weather reports on the screen of my tiny iPad. I couldn’t … Continue reading Dwelling in Ireland
A Work of Solitude
Invite a man in to taste this space, And he better know how to tread light, Respectful. This is a womb of intuition, A woman cave. Honor the hand prints on the wall. This mind, this delicately sculpted grace, Years in the making, Thoughts carefully aligned, Boundaries steadily defined, Words meticulously chosen, To share honest … Continue reading A Work of Solitude
Jaded?
At what point was I supposed to be jaded? Did it pass or is it still to come? Because I remember those elders telling me years ago, teaching me so young About that thing called idealism, and why it won't work And how their skepticism, their worry, might serve me better In the long run. … Continue reading Jaded?
Into Silence
Continued from Back to the Center I was tripping giddy on that post Vipassana high, rolling in the luxury of the simplest pleasures. Like talking. After ten days of silence, laughing felt like an uncontrollable rush. After ten days observing subtle sensations, driving I-5 was a thrilling roller coaster. After sitting so straight and still, … Continue reading Into Silence
Little Steps
Rune stones, like throwing bones, like reading tea or coins or tarot. I’m groping through this bag of smooth clay charms, hoping something else will give me an answer. Our desire for destiny, a divine plan, and our need to break the mystery. Again in transition, always in between it seems. And spun to exhaustion … Continue reading Little Steps
Knowing Home 