Continued from yesterday From my mindfulness meditation practice, I’ve learned the value of looking closely at my own experience. But, unable, as I prepared to teach, to find examples of how I react to uncertainty, I turned back to Torah: “The cow shall be burned in his sight—its hide, flesh, and blood shall be burned, its dung included—and the priest shall take cedar wood, hyssop, and crimson stuff, and throw them into the fire consuming the cow.” Cedar wood and... Read more
With less than two days before the retreat began, and only a grain of time unclaimed by other responsibilities, I opened the Etz Hayim to Parashat Hukat and began to read. I’d been asked to lead an aliyah, a calling forth of worshippers to chant blessings before and after the reading of a portion of the Torah. Rabbi Jeff Roth, my friend and teacher and leader of the four night silent meditation retreat, had asked me to prepare a teaching... Read more
I had a problem with prayer. It’s not that I didn’t think of God or talk to him; I did every single day. But I didn’t understand what made me do it, didn’t know what it accomplished, wasn’t sure what I was doing was prayer. You see, I just can’t pray as Sister Clare taught us kids in Catechism. I don’t say formal prayers except at Mass—not the Confiteor, not the Our Father, not the Hail Mary—and even then I... Read more
In February I published Love and Salt, a book of letters I wrote with my friend Amy Andrews, and found myself in the uncomfortable position of being expected to talk and write about the subject of friendship. I’ve become something of an expert on the topic. I can quote Cicero and Aristotle and Montaigne and Lewis on the subject. I can tell you stories of great friendships in literature, from Ruth and Naomi to Frodo and Samwise. I can even... Read more
According to a psychology professor I read recently, we are hardwired to make enemies. Doing so serves needs lurking in the recesses of our evolved psyches. The professor believes that we are rooted entirely in the bundle of modifications that served our long slither from guppy to Gutenberg. Enemy-making gave distant flippered cousins an egg-laying advantage, and so that is why the Crips and Bloods can’t get along. Creative minds can retrodict any aspect of humanity this way, and so... Read more
Guest Post Yesterday, I asked a question that I will now attempt to answer. That question was: Are writers truly alone when they enter their private writing spaces? My answer is no. Or at least no, they are not alone most of the time. Who goes with them, you ask? Oh, lots of people. I will tell you who goes with me: For starters, in this year as the Milton Fellow, provided with the all but unfathomable luxuries of time... Read more
Guest Post Recently, I watched a documentary that featured famous Irish writers giving advice about writing. When asked about writer’s block, one famous Irish writer scoffed, “Writer’s block? There’s no such thing. I mean you don’t hear plumber’s talking about plumber’s block. You just have to get over yourself, take up a pen, and write.” If you are reading this and thinking to yourself, “Hear, hear! Well said, Mr. Famous Irish Writer,” then just know before I proceed that I... Read more
A favorite anecdote that I’ve often shared with other writers dates back to college when my good friend Andy staggered into my room equally exhausted and exhilarated to announce a breakthrough on his senior thesis about Thomas Hardy. He plopped onto my futon, then followed a big sigh with the most telling question: “Wanna go see a movie?” We burst into laughter simultaneously, as at a punch line that had no joke leading up to it and thus was all... Read more
The last Father’s Day card I sent to my father came back to me, returned with the other personal effects recovered from the campsite he and my stepmother shared along an Arctic river. I’d talked to them on Father’s Day that year on a satellite phone when they called after dinner. I’d been sitting on the porch of my boyfriend’s house in Seattle, where we had just finished grilling salmon with his family. My dad and his wife sat in... Read more
A few months ago an old friend of mine emailed and asked me to forgive him for any harm he had done me in the past. It seemed odd to me. I told him he hadn’t done me any harm but if it would give him any peace then sure, I forgive him. The very next day I saw a Facebook post from my friend and fellow “Good Letters” blogger, Caroline, also asking for forgiveness. What was going on? Had... Read more
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