This resurrection business is a tough gig. But I’m not claiming to be the second coming of anything so I think three weeks to bounce back is commensurate with a messianic three days. While it’s not been a biblical time, unlike the rain we’ve had ALL WEEKEND LONG, it’s been a Dickensian three weeks. Best and worst and everything in between. Taking a cue from the weather I’m going to play with garden metaphors as Read more…
What a time it’s been. Flying at the speed of light we’ve arrived at spring. Or so it feels. I took a pause, Rip Van Winkle style and awoke to signs winter is finally over. Unlike the notorious RVW, I emerged rather well preserved if I may say. The trick was following old Voltaire’s advice. I turned my focus away from the social media circus (such a challenge when there are so many smart and Read more…
This is my last selfie of 2022. Haven’t gotten around to the first selfie of the year yet – how is it already a week?? I like to ease into the new year like a warm bath. It takes time to get intentional. The how outweighs the when. Start as you mean to go on. The week between the holidays and the new year are too full and noisy to digest the past year and contemplate Read more…
Nature is a tonic. I grew up with natural remedies and the kitchen cupboard apothecary, repurposed bottles containing various roots and spices steeped in overproof rum were a regular sight among the bathroom linens and back up stock of tp and toothpaste. But my experiences in nature were very few. The fledgling greenery of a new suburban subdivision was my baseline. There was a weeklong YMCA day camp that culminated in a single overnight stay Read more…
I stopped reading on the subway. It wasn’t a conscious choice. I’ve been lugging around a hardcover title for ten days. Normally I would’ve read this book in a week. It’s a good book. I like the author. But I can’t read on the subways anymore. My concentration is off. I keep losing the thread. I’m constantly appraising the rotating cast of car mates. Is anyone in crisis? Who’s seething under pressure and lying in Read more…
Confession. I cannot braid cornrows. My mother couldn’t either. With great effort I can do a french braid- my mother could not teach what she didn’t know. My mother was raised with a Eurocentric esthetic. The colonial norms were imprinted like a tattoo, bias buried layers deep in the dermis of the psyche. The aspiration for ‘good hair’ made it a sacrilege to cut it off. Until the heat of a comb or chemical processed Read more…
She began reading the sentence again. She was tempted to skim over it but it might have information she’d need. Was this old kitchen wisdom even relevant today? If you want an onion to keep, put it in…. the thought paused as she tried to find the word that wasn’t the brand name. It was her tiny act of resistance, of railing against the constant onslaught of BRANDING and the corporate takeover of quotidian details. Read more…
All her Jewish friends were posting their amends for Yom Kippur on their socials. Her yoga teacher had said that any big religious holiday was a great time to meditate regardless of your faith. Something about the concentration of energy. Over 15 million people were taking inventory of their sins and asking forgiveness. That energy had to shift some atoms and create space for something better. She lay down on the grass and looked up Read more…