change

Everything has a beginning, middle, end. For some time, this teachingSeduced me in trying to diagnose Which phase I was experiencing–As I questioned the life of a relationship, Whether my mother was dying,Whether I was menopausal…I now can see that there’s no way of knowing. The peace comes in simply understandingEverything has a beginning, middle, end.

whiteness

One thing I’m noticing is the suffering of White folks. This statement makes me uncomfortable to say as a White woman. I’ve been trained and conditioned to not attend to White suffering and to direct my noticing to the suffering of those more directly oppressed by racial injustice and White Supremacy. I’ve diminished the suffering

spiraling

i’ve long loved spirals. they represent to me an ongoing process of growth that returns, again and again to its origins. lately, i see myself spiraling. not in an out-of-control way (although sometimes it does feel like that!) but in the sense of circling back to a core place, with the same core questions and

suffering

My heart has been heavy this week. I’ve spent some time considering why. Honestly, I’m not sure, exactly. And I’m learning to be okay with not knowing. I don’t need to understand. I don’t need to try to solve my sadness, or to fix it. In fact, my tendency to want to do this–to get

warriorship

a year ago i said yes to an invitation that only my soul understood to join with others broken-hearted by the suffering of our world open-hearted to the joy of our world who shared faith in power unleashed through right relationship this year has been one of painful unlearning of letting go of false selves

undone

the past couple of weeks, i’ve come undone. this, i know, is life. over and over again, we become undone. the practicing comes in accepting it, being in it, and not retreating in utter fear. i’m still practicing. the thing is, all that we’ve learned our entire lives tells us otherwise: to hold on tight.

waiting

for the past ten days, my brother and i have accompanied my mom through test after test, appointment after appointment–126 in total. we have been waiting in limbo-land for life and death information. waiting at the intersection of life and death, living takes on a realness that is both heavy and liberating. the heaviness comes

roy’s song

The piano man drew me in With the sweet lullaby he played as a backdrop To the swift movement of the herds of people. I sat, thankful for this music And it’s transformation of this place and space.   The man next to me invited piano man To play Sounds of Silence And with that,

answers

How many times will we be here? Waiting for answers to questions unknowable About life and death and suffering and aliveness   Looking to strangers for directions on finding  “quality of life” Alongside those we are bound to, through birth or by choice Who in those very moments offer all the answers we need:  

on groundlessness

For a long time, I understood “being grounded” as positive. I aspired to “feeling grounded”. For me, it represented a feeling of being solid, sure, connected with a sense of integrity and wholeness. The irony of being grounded is that this groundedness is rooted in groundlessness–a deep understanding that there, in fact, no solid ground