Navigating life through grandparenthood, chronic illness, dream work, and other inspirations
The seasonal cold hit our house this week, and not wishing to share it, I locked myself in with mugs of lemon and honey. An ice storm blasted Sunday, so we were happy to stay put. Ice and compromised balance do not blend well. Then, before the ice could melt, it snowed. Another good day […]
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The certainty of yesterdayhas slipped our grasplight deflecting truthtossing us into the abstract I ponder processand outcomes,will my mind to carry megliding between thermalsdissolving into vapours Some realities too hard to bear –dislodged, we tread the indeterminate. (I submit these images and poem to the challenges of Lens-Artists and Ragtag Community. While we try to […]
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The woman in the mirror is flawedage spots where freckles once sprouted,streaks of white, peppering former auburn,inner scars marking discontent. How then is she expectedto know wholeness? In days when mind was sharpself-confidence wobbled;when spirituality was planted,self-judgment undermined. The path to wholenesspitted with potholes. How often emotion overrodecommon sense, and choicesled her astray, how thickthe […]
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We mark the Equinoxwith prayers for a planetwaning in the marinadeof political corruption –too gilded to confessthe shameful disarray. (For Reena’s Exploration challenge: unbridgeable. Image from personal collection.)
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Fallen limbs and pathless woodsno obstacle for a wild childleft to her own devices,searching for a self. Only with age, and sproutingcurves, did I learn to be afraidof shadows, that the woodsequated with wolves and lurking And that abandoned placeshouse evil – held captive therejust this side of adolescence – lost all that innocence gifts […]
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Shadows stalk our conversations, Mother and I. It’s not so much what is said, but what hovers between the lines spoken. Fear stalks her – death so close – and I sidestep darkness. It’s an illusion, of course, this thought that we can think ourselves well, or avoid pain by focusing only on the light. […]
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Jane Juska has been on my mind all week. At sixty-six, the divorced, mother of one, decided it was time to reclaim her sexuality, so she posted an ad in The New York Review of Books: Before I turn 67 – next March – I would like to have a lot of sex with a […]
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