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  • Why We Need Listen to the Inner Voices of Creativity

    On Friday, January 21 st, 2011
    When it’s time, I know. I can tell in my bones, the ways the knees ache, those joints with a clock of their own. I drag my fingers tired through the hair, back from the temples, and I survey the room of the sprawled out legs, the stacks of books, the balls of yarn, the
  • how to begin a new year

    On Monday, January 03 rd, 2011
    Every dawn is Day One. A new beginning. And gratitude is what makes the past a grace, here holy, and tomorrow a gift. On New Year’s Day, we wake to rain. The Farmer wraps his arm around me in the dark. “Hear it?” He whispers the words close. The window panes, the roof, they’re thrumming
  • never fear shadows

    On Friday, October 08 th, 2010
    I write about secrets. I read the comments — startling wisdom, aching pain, desperate struggle. I hurt for all the long ago girls. For Mama. I think: what have I done. I call my Mama. “But remember what I told you? Remember what I told you a long time ago?” She has hymns playing in
  • Why it Really is Worth it to Tell Your Secrets

    On Thursday, October 07 th, 2010
    My Mama was diagnosed with split personality disorder and my dad loved me more than her. We all split. I remember how my heart did, how the shards drove into everything. How bearing secrets made the breathing hard. My mama nods now that it is all true and no daughter should ever feel that and
  • when feeling nervous: what’s really behind the fears

    On Thursday, September 30 th, 2010
    (because I’m traveling right now… and trying to remember just this…) Who said courage wears a red badge? It’s just khaki capris, a black tee, I pull out of the closet for a day dawning summer, me leaving the house for the heat, for appointment and errands. I have no red badge of courage, but
  • take the dare to fully live!

    On Friday, September 03 rd, 2010
    The long winter I grew heavy with our first child, I wore heavier sweaters and I didn’t tell any of our friends until I was six and a half months swollen. We’d only been married eight. And six weeks later, I held our baby. Our friends thought it a remarkably short pregnancy. Sometimes we shroud
  • Surprised by Grace…

    On Friday, April 30 th, 2010
    A flurry of wings, the pigeon beat the air desperate, and when The Farmer stretches out his arms, the trembling heart lands, a gift. Unexpected grace always settles in the palm of the heaven-turned hands. Kai says he can feel it, its pounding beat thrumming through his latched fingers, its feathered warmth stuttering…. settling. We
  • The Cure of Fear: The Practice of the Present

    On Monday, April 19 th, 2010
    I count them on the way, these apple trees in spring, caught in a blizzard of snow blushing pink. I count the blossoming limbs, wood grain labouring the delivery of petals, and the roads that coaxed me nervous and tentative away on a Wednesday, they keep their promise and usher me home on a Saturday
  • Why You do Not Leave Home

    On Tuesday, March 09 th, 2010
    Her poem for me, the one she wrote for me who wrote of living anxious agoraphobia, her poem lines come again to me. When I stand in line at customs in Canada, turn and wave tear brave to my Mama still standing at security, smiling me off. And again, when in Dallas, when the flight
  • weekends are for growth

    On Saturday, January 30 th, 2010
    Wise words tucked in my inbox… I am so grateful for this community, the gift of friendship, the way we share with one another — my humble thanks. I never get over the wonder of you! ‘Fear is like pain. Pain is given as an indicator that something is going on. Pain says, “Hey, pay
  • Sing: Light in the Dark (#2)

    On Friday, January 22 nd, 2010
    There were birds today. I hear them as I come in up the back step, the mail in hand. I stand and listen and I look for them in trees, in limbs, in light. Chickering and chattering, all invisible. I have missed them. I didn’t know I had missed them until I heard them. Silence
  • When You Can’t Figure Out What the Answer Should Be

    On Wednesday, December 30 th, 2009
    Snow falls outside the window, whispers. I lie on her bed, listening to white. In the grey, night changes into a sweater of day and branches of the bare lilac slips on lace. She cups into me. She’s listening too. Her and I, we often lie together in the early and plan. “Mama?” “Mmmmm…” I
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