October 29, 2012

She was just one more woman, sick and tired on another tiresome day of being told what to do, who to be. That Rosa. Does she know how funny it is that she took a stand by sitting down? Not funny in a “haha” kind of way, but funny, in the way tired women rising can look simple and ordinary, all the while galvanizing nations and making history. That’s the part of her story I hold onto most as a... Read more

September 21, 2012

“I am not in love with the Church.” I text it out and lay the phone quiet on my desk. The room fills with the late afternoon sun flood that always reminds me of magic. Nothing so luminous and revealing can be real. The dog lies lazy on the ragged sofa, long collie nose hanging over the edge. Nothing happens, now that I have confessed. I sigh heavy out of my desk chair, grab the paperback and plod three feet... Read more

September 17, 2012

  When it doesn’t fit anymore I hold on for old times sake, to make meaning when maybe the season for meaning is gone. When it doesn’t fit anymore I sit still for a while, and feel my heart curl in upon itself with the old sorrow. It can feel so new. When it doesn’t fit any… more. When it doesn’t fit anymore I fray at my edges for old times sake For all those times I tried to make... Read more

September 3, 2012

Reflection (1) Photo by Enuma I look into all sorts of mirrors these days. There are angles I haven’t seen before. But my eyes keep opening wide, caught by surprise. Things hint at me from places I’ve forgotten can hold reflections. I slip these pieces into the palm of my hand and close my fingers soft around them. I leave room for them to breathe. Till I can go quiet, lotus-posed, and close my eyes to really see them. Pay... Read more

August 29, 2012

I have tried but I cut my tongue on sharp memories and bleed doubt on the hems of my prayer shawls. There have been too many words in the past. Too many “Father Gods,” and “In Jesus name,” Too many pussy-willow whispers that have blown into empty airy “But God is faithful.” I open my mouth and drip drops of everything but prayer as I have known it. Mostly now there is silence. And me sitting cross-legged in the early... Read more

August 9, 2012

“I’m not sure if it was the fashion or because the four of us were together again, but for the first time in a very long while I felt like myself again.” -Carrie Bradshaw (sitting in the front row of the annual NYC Fashion week show with her three besties in Sex and the City) It’s not often I get inspired to write after a random episode of Sex and the City. (Ally McBeal, definitely but that’s another story.) Anyway,... Read more

August 2, 2012

This morning I found the courage to reach beneath my bed and pull out a question I’ve been hiding for a while now. Mostly because I wasn’t sure I could handle the answer once I brought it into the light. But the courage was impulsive and so were my actions. I stuck my hand way back there and reached carefully around my sharp-edged doubts, and behind all the small tarnished worries I can’t seem to get rid off. And there... Read more

August 1, 2012

Today, I just want to share a beautiful collection of images that speak to the universal gift and joy of reading. I discovered Steve McCurry’s blog by chance, and his recent post is full of delight… Please click the quote below to enjoy the images… Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul. – Joyce Carol Oates Read more

July 16, 2012

This post is part of an inspired SheLoves Magazine synchroblog. Write your own love letter to your own body by July 18th and then link it up to SheLoves. (Even if it turns out to be a sassy love poem you never saw coming, ehem…) Oh yeah, a “synchroblog” simply means folks are writing simultaneously on the same topic. *********** My, my, my Body Look at you, and your memory for detail. You caught me off guard that day The... Read more

July 11, 2012

I gather my “Thank You’s” with all their rough edges and push them deep into back pockets, trying to make it all fit. Mama would cringe at these half-finished sentences. I falter back with the weight of my words, phrases spilling out and splitting seams. I can’t contain them. “You. Steadied. My. Ground. A. Little. More. Than. I. Expected…” I lean forward and catch my balance. Some. Dig in my heels. Arms outstretched, I feel around for more words, syllables... Read more

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