While reading my free copy (Starbucks iTunes Pick of the Week) of The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving by Jonathan Evison, I came across this lovely description: “The sky is oppressive: slate gray and inching eastward. Not a sky for dreamers. A sky for people just trying to get by.” I paused. Reread the lines. Looked up at my own … More A Muse Is a Terrible Thing To Waste–If She Actually Has Something To Share
“What is left out will always show and make the strength of what is left in.” Can you apply this to your relationships, your life, your sense of self? ~photo from my copy of “A Moveable Feast”
For the weekend: relaxing, allowing our minds to wander back to our real selves. This TED talk is one of my favorites. Grab hold of your muse, let the poem rumble through you, have a frank discussion with your genius. Get your pencil, your laptop, and let out all the words you’ve been holding in.
“The water should taste like the ocean,” Heapfuls of rough salt poured from my grandmother’s palm. She had lived for eighty years by then. She didn’t measure anymore. A gas flame licked blue then orange beneath her own mother’s copper cooking pot. “It can’t be alone.” Twists of gemilli fell into the boil. “What can’t be alone?” I asked, watching the … More Salt
She found out today… that he could very well be right about microbes in office buildings. (via NPR) that he was wrong about Justin Beiber’s monkey. (via Twitter) that he enjoys the “Titillating Wing Combo” from the Hooter’s lunch menu. (via Facebook check-in) that he preferred blonds, usually, but how nice to see him try something new. (via his mother) that … More Third Party
Forgiveness. There is no poem for it. It is a strong and beautiful goodbye. Self. There is no book for it. It is a lifetime of goodbyes. Destiny. There is no plan for it. It is this. Say a beautiful hello. Inspired by Joshua Prager’s story: Was I what had been done to me? Were all of … More What Makes Us?
“Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” ~The Symposium, Plato When metal and cowardice explodedon Boylstonfalse men who thought to be gods failed.In this place that built us all,one by one,we fell to the ground, to hard ends, cutting deepestinto … More One Boston
Some birds sit alone. I noticed that, in mornings etched in chill. On a wire, the one holds fast to a space that is far from the group, singular silhouette against a waking sky. But that outline is as solid as the mass of them and seems stronger, still than all together, that scatter with … More Some Birds Sit Alone
Field mice tell lies better than my husband when he began to fail, first in the evenings, counting out the rows and weights of the day’s downed wheat. his fingers an abacus on mother’s old plaid oilcloth. He counted the season’s crop, the winter’s stock, winnowing numbers over and over until no space remained in … More The Farmer’s Wife
We’d never spoken, only nodded greetings to one another in the ripening daylight. We park in the same lot, lock our cars and make our way to the small terminal. He is large and walks slowly, his pack looks like a child’s across his wide, rounded shoulders. His eyes are dark pebbles behind his glasses. … More Expert