Ode to a Sweatshirt
As I reached happily for my well worn hooded sweatshirt again this morning, I wondered suddenly why I feel such affection for it, and for all those I’ve ever had, why I am always on the lookout for new ones to replace those that wear out, and why I am so excited when...Painting With My Dead Friend
Holly, a dear friend of mine, died last summer. She was a writer and a creative soul in many ways, including artmaking of all kinds. She was an imaginative free spirit who appreciated the unconventional. So her art was usually quirky. Self-taught, she didn’t often...Images of Insecurity
Until a few days ago I was at a retreat center in upstate New York. Twenty women and the facilitator, Jalaja Bonheim, came together for a week, experiencing the powerful geometry of the circle, allowing sacred space and silence to fortify us and help us move from...Hidden Treasures
Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time. Diane Ackerman After five days up on the North Shore I’m noticing that words for a blog are hard to find. Lumbering along rocky beaches, comforted and exhilarated by booming...Happy Birthday
My birthday was ten days ago. Miraculously, the weather was lovely that day—sunny, highs in the 70s, low humidity. Highly unusual for that date. My birthday almost always falls on one of those insufferably hot, humid and airless midsummer days familiar to Minnesotans....Share This Post
Welcome to Whisperings
“There is a place where words are born of silence,
A place where the whispers of the heart arise.”
— Rumi
I will ponder here what whispers to me in the silence. I’d love for you to whisper back; maybe we will all get clearer—or maybe, like in the old kids’ game of “telephone” we will end up somewhere else entirely (which would be fun too)
