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Showing posts from January, 2015


I awoke at 4 am this morning.  I lay in bed for a while, tossing and turning before submitting to wakefulness and rising from bed, donning warm winter clothes,and heading for the mountain.  I arrived long before the sunrise and began my trek up the lumbering hillside in the cold stillness of predawn.  With each step the careworn busyness of my mind quieted and soon I was aware of the breeze, the chill and the subdued colors of winter.  As I climbed, I saw dozens of deer scattered across the hillside foraging food with graceful diligence.  I noticed this trio nearby and heard a still small voice beckoning me toward them.  They stared at me as I approached, eyes gentle and deep, they didn't move to run, instead they watched me.  I cried in gratitude as is often the case.  It is humbling and beautiful to experience an intimate hello whispered across species.  It was a quiet and refreshing way to begin the day.

This is one of my favorite poems…does this love exist? I dont know.

The True Love by David Whyte There’s a faith in loving fiercely the one who is rightfully yours especially if you have waited years and especially if part of you never believed you could deserve this loved and beckoning hand held out to you this way. I am thinking of faith now and the testaments of loneliness and what we feel we are worthy of in this world. Years ago in the Hebrides I remember an old man who would walk every morning on the gray stones to the shore of baying seals, who would press his hat to his chest in the blustering salt wind and say his prayer to the turbulent Jesus hidden in the waters. And I think of the story of the storm and the people waking and seeing the distant, yet familiar figure, far across the water calling to them. And how we are all preparing for that abrupt waking and that calling and that moment when we have to say yes! Except it will not come so grandly, so biblically, but more subtly, and intimately in the face of the one you know you have to

winter storms

I can not remember another time when I have felt the metaphor of winter more strongly.  It feels as if the newness, vitality and hope of my life, has thickened like congealed sap in my veins.  I stare out through the bleak mental landscape of mind, making room for the cold and barren experience knowing (or at least hoping) that, whether I am aware of it or not, new life is already pregnant within the scene, growing stronger with each passing storm.

It Felt Love By Hafiz

How  Did the rose Ever open its heart And give to this world All its Beauty? It felt the encouragement of light Against its Being. Otherwise We all remain Too Frightened.


I have been drinking in the poetry of Hafiz, seasoned with tears and elation, for days.  Rumi and Hafiz are my longtime bedfellows, they whisper in my ear coaxing my soul from its half sleep, caressing my skin with their breath, reminding me of a longing that only ripens over time. THIS ONE IS MINE by Hafiz Someone put  You on a slab block And the unreal bought You. Now I keep coming to your owner Saying, "This one is mine." You often overhear us talking And this can make your heart leap With excitement. Don't worry, I will not let sadness Possess you. I will gladly borrow all the gold I need To get you Back.

When You Can Endure By Hafiz

When The words stop And you can endure the silence That reveals your heart's  Pain Of emptiness Or that great wrenching-sweet longing. That is the time to try and listen To what the Beloved's Eyes Most want To Say.


Intimacy. Belonging. Closeness. Connection. Familiarity. I have been wrestling with intimacy like Jacob in the dark, demanding its true name.  In a social landscape devoid of depth encounters, true intimacy, real belonging, sustained connection and authentic familiarity, we are made to feel weak because we long for intimacy, we ache to know and be known.  In our Western deification of independence, self reliance and autonomy we have perhaps carved a deep hole in our psyches.  A hole that is felt as an indescribable emptiness and longing. I have judged myself for so many years because I could not overcome my desire to unite, to connect.  I have deemed it weak and flawed.  I have exercised independence, bravado and a will power that astonishes even me at times.  Still, I long to unite. With man? Yes, absolutely.  And with all life too, human, bird, deer, tree, stream, grass, ice, stars, bum, friend.  Why do we relegate this desire to the halls of psychology or spirituality.  It

misfit toys

Sometimes I feel like one of those toys relegated to the Island of Misfit Toys.  Not much to do with that.  Except sink into the deeper realization that it doesn't f*#*king matter. 

why I love my job

 So one day this week I got to play with kids and chickens and the next day the toddlers and I painted with pudding...I mean HELLO does it actually get better than this?!!!

motherhood and new year

"Yes, Mother. I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me."    - Alice Walker I am fairly certain that my boys could echo this sentiment with conviction.  As a mother I long hoped that my greatest gift would be saintly patience, uncommon kindness, love, nurturance and care…I dreamed of perfect motherhood in the way I once dreamed of white-flowing-robed-enlightenment or mind-boggling-academic-brilliance… all of which lacked the common depth of shadow, complexity, sharp edges, needs and all that remains unresolved.  Now, I wonder if our pretense at "I've got it all together" isn't the most off-putting gift we can bring to one another.  It perpetuates the myth that we should have it "all together".  It promotes a botox view of life, no lines, no wrinkles, no edges, no character.  I DO NOT HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER.  And neither do you.  AH deep breath.  Happy New Year!  May it be exactly as it is!


Winter. Have you ever found yourself lumbering toward an unseen cave in winter or felt your inward sap slow as life burrows deep within, preparing for spring.  For some reason we resist this urge.  Coaxed, by holiday bustle and city lights, into pouring our energy out like a water hydrant set at full blast in July, only its COLD outside and the water is turning to ice and no one is doing a photo-worthy happy dance in the shower of our depleted energy.  Perhaps it is time to draw inward.  In spite of the busy push outward.  Maybe, just maybe, nature knows a whole hell of a lot more than we do with our big busy brains and disconnected lives.  Maybe.


I hear this question often, "How many kids do you have?" It's one of the few questions I can answer easily, unlike "How are you?" which sends me into an existential tailspin far too expansive for the common expected answer of "fine." "Two", I answer beaming. Two. One breathtaking Owen who swims at a depth that must require glow fish adaptations of consciousness, astonishing me often with his clarity and insight.  And one dazzling Bodhi who shines with uncommon enthusiasm, living life at full throttle without apology. Two, amazing children who humble me regularly and give me a thousand daily reasons to wake up with a smile. Of course the simple answer is two and yes, I'm doing fine.