Searching for Words in a Fog
There once was a woman of age Who struggled to honor a page With some nourishing words Ones that sang, flew like birds, But alas! She was never a sage. (And such hopes are so often a cage.) Plus it’s winter, it’s cold and it’s dark, And her mind must be locked...On Thanksgiving
I’ve always loved Thanksgiving. I loved the food, the emphasis on gratitude and harvest, and the gathering with family and/or friends during a time of increasing cold and darkness. I never believed or highlighted the national myth around the holiday in these...Refusal
I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows, or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room. Ray Bradbury The...An Art Path In a Pandemic
Oh my, here we are. This painting is several years old, but eerily it makes me think of the virus, its stealthy infiltration of our systems and our cities. The last week has been a hard one for me because I have been awash in fear and grief. Not...Fragile
I’ve been feeling small the last few days. Fragile. Young. Sensitive. I want to be held, snuggled, tended. And I’m tired. And weepy. I’m fighting off a skin infection and I’ve had a busy couple months—that must be it. Why must I always search for a reasonable...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)
