I think that deep down in our souls, all of us are probably aware that some kind of mystical evolution is our true task here. But, in my mind, we don’t talk about the mystical experiences we have enough. I suppose we feel it’s a little too “woo-woo.” It definitely grates against a rationalist view… Continue reading something more
Tag: storytelling
the only one
Tucked away in the corner of a little Italian place that, after the sun went down, was dim like a mine shaft and just as cold, we sat discussing the living we’ve done over the last 30 years. The two of us, middle-aged women now —whose bodies have performed a miracle or two since we… Continue reading the only one
thanksgiving
It’s overcast at the cottage this morning. It was a spur of the moment decision to come up here late yesterday. One minute we were sitting on the bed folding laundry talking about this year’s brilliant fall colours. Twenty minutes later we were on the road. The last thing I threw in my bag on… Continue reading thanksgiving
a fire that doesn’t go out
I’ve said before that there are days when I can barely handle the world. At least, not the whole thing all at once. Including the hateful parts, the misogyny, the brutal disregard by the powerful of the powerless. Sometimes, I feel like I can only be a citizen of this house. Of this cool summer… Continue reading a fire that doesn’t go out
the weight of the world is love
It’s lunchtime and I closed my office door. I feel sad today. Nothing happened to me. I’m blessed in an embarrassment of ways. And yet, some days just seem to sit on top of me like a stone. The world is too much on those days. The multitude of wrongs we do to each other… Continue reading the weight of the world is love
i’m still here
She kneels down next to me and presses her palm to the side of my face. The softness of her. Her hands always so warm. She leans close, pressing her forehead to my cheek. And we stay that way for a minute or two. I’m still here, she says. All you have to do is… Continue reading i’m still here
stars
On a crisp January night, I look up through the scalloped treetops, at the twinkling mansion of the night sky. I don’t know much about the constellations or the heavens, or what’s beyond those things, but they make me wonder. The brightest stars beg me to wish on them. Standing there in the fresh snow,… Continue reading stars
the blue house
A poem I haven’t thought of in some time has been hanging around me the past few days. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe it’s a message. It turned up for me again this week as I was doing some research for a book idea. The poem is called The Blue House (by Tomas Transtromer). In… Continue reading the blue house
lessons from a gravedigger
I stood at the upstairs bedroom window for a few minutes this morning, watching as a man chipped away at the cold, hard ground, squaring up the sides of a new grave in the cemetery that butts up against our backyard fence. People sometimes tell me they think it would be weird to live in… Continue reading lessons from a gravedigger
house of cards
It was a house of cards. Everyone was busy playing their hand. We took our own deck, a bottle of wine and a corner table. At the end of that night, the bottle was empty. Everyone was gone. And there on our table was this beautiful house of cards, stories, hopes and secrets. Something we… Continue reading house of cards
MeaningMaker 