Well, I just turned 40 and it feels pretty huge. It’s hard to explain, but as I step across this threshold, somehow I know that I’m entering a completely new phase of my life.
Read MoreThis morning when I read the news, I felt sick to my stomach. It’s not that anything specific happened—just the madness of our world. Today, it hit me hard. These are challenging times and I often feel lost in a whirlwind of rage, disgust, grief, hope, numbness, faith, and fear. As our planet heats up, our minds are burning—and there’s so much angst in the air. Although we can say our insane administration is to blame, in some ways none of this is new—the tension’s been building for a long time.
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I love. God, I love. There is just so much to love in human eyes and soft sighs and long nights washed with tenderness and rain. How could anyone not love such things: sunrays hidden in the silver moon, weathered books, and blessings from old souls and saints? I love the scent of autumn and the way green leaves give birth to gold. I love blank journals and the minds that fill them. I love the hands of woodworkers and the music of crickets. I love your open heart.
Read MoreOh man. It’s been forever, sweet blog reader. I’ve missed you. I never imagined I’d go this long without writing, but after my last post I went into a deep hibernation and stayed there. I know it’s not really good form to abandon one’s blog, but despite my efforts to write, nothing flowed. I just felt like a wilted flower—unable to create, never mind articulate what I was going through. But none of that matters now. I just want to connect with you in this moment, like two soul friends who always feel close even after years apart. Will you meet me in the intimate space of our shared humanity, without posturing or pretense?
Read MoreI’m in Abiquiu, New Mexico, right now where the night wind rolls like ocean waves, rocking me back to myself. So many days I have dreamed of this place—the deep silence, the stark, hot rawness that strips the soul bare. I really love it here—nothing but sky and clouds, cracked earth, strong light, and space. In this naked land I can feel my heart. I can feel her tender crevices and secret wounds, her buried beauty, and her yearning. I can feel her sweet, searing grief and her hunger to be seen and known.
Read MoreI love how snow makes everything quiet. I love how clouds, rivers, oceans, raindrops, glaciers, and geysers are all made out of the same thing. I love paper lanterns, ballpoint pens, and altars. I love my heart for never abandoning me, even when others do.
Read MoreI love spices. I love that the earth is rich with colors and plant medicines, tender flowers, and healing waters. I love public radio, mason jars, and little white lights strung over doorways and railings. I love crafty people who make crocheted potholders and lampshades out of coffee filters. I love holding hands with someone I adore and pressing colored leaves in books, only to find them years later by surprise. I love the worn-in roper boots I bought at Murdoch’s Ranch and Home Supply in Longmont, Colorado; they’re about as close to a cowgirl as I’ll ever get.
Read MoreI love pinecones. I love walking in the woods when the leaves are bright and it’s chilly enough for me to wear my favorite fake furry vest that looks like a sheepskin rug. I love that I stayed up until 2:00 a.m. the other night writing a song to the Buddhist goddess Tara, whom I adore.
I love my womanhood. I love the way my soft form is connected to the moon, the way another soul can take shape inside my being, the way that I am permeable to the raw beauty and pain of the world. I love my shadow. I love how people look innocent when they eat. I love that I long for something un-nameable when my heart feels empty, and that sometimes I can fill the hole of my yearning with my own light.
Read MoreA few weeks ago I spent a fortune repairing my car—the head gaskets were leaking. As you might imagine, I was more than a little irritated that a paycheck’s worth of money vanished in one credit card swipe, but something beautiful happened on the way home: When I looked out the back windshield, it was covered with hearts! The sweet mechanic had drawn them all over my car, which pretty much erased any memory of the bill; it also made me think about marrying him for a split second, but that second faded very fast.
Read MoreLately a lot of people have been asking me if I want children. I don’t know why, but the question keeps coming up for no discernible reason. Maybe these lovely folks are trying to figure out why someone in her thirties is living in the boonies all by her lonesome, but whatever the reason, I only have one answer: I don’t know. Having kids is something I take pretty seriously, considering the divorce rate and the fact that the world population is more bloated than my worst premenstrual moment. Also, it’s a bit hard to imagine making a person since I haven’t yet stumbled upon a man I want to make one with.
Read MoreIt’s summer in the Berkshires, and a beautiful one—wet with rain, quiet blossoms, and bird songs. I love the changing seasons. Here in the Berks I live in a cabin that is pure magic—filled with skylights and wooden beams, little lights, and hanging stars. The space is so special sometimes I just look around and smile. Then I remember that, yes, it’s beautiful, but it’s also in the middle of nowhere. This thought often propels me to pack my car and move far away, but as I stand in the driveway and look at the house with all of its loveliness, I always walk right back in and make a cup of tea.
Read MoreWhen I started meditating many years ago, every time I sat down and closed my eyes, I burst into tears; it seemed like a problem. Other people appeared so damn peaceful when they meditated—eyelids gently closed, hands folded nicely in their laps. What was wrong with me? My crazy mind was on fire with thoughts and all I wanted to do was let out a long, piercing shriek.
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