Light, 11/30/16

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Light, 11/29/16

Some days the term daybreak makes sudden, perfect sense

and the dark is something to pry open.

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Light, 11/28/16

Reflected, multiplied, transformed

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Light, 11/27/16

Every bit of brightness counts.

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Thankful, 2016

It has been hard to even know where to begin this month, this fall. Looking back, the whole year seems marked by difficult decisions, and the living-out of them. Good things have come, and there is much to be thankful for, although I cannot pretend there has been a lot of easy recently. 

But yes, I am thankful. 

Thankful for the truth spoken out, no matter how loudly or quietly, no matter how many hear.

Thankful for every act of kindness, no matter how large or small, no matter how many see.

Thankful for every human connection, no matter how tenuous, and for the glimpses of that web around us. Oh, when it catches the light.

Thankful for the beauty I have seen and read and heard all year, and for the generosity behind it. 

Thankful for the infinite Goodness holding it all together, no matter what else.

My hope is that this year our thanksgiving--yours, mine, everyone's--may be both fierce and humble. May it reach far beyond our own homes, and far beyond this day.

For more thankfulness, please visit my archive. It all still holds.

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Long Live

The checkout line at the grocery store was long. The list of things-unsolvable banging around in my head was long. My face, a little on the long side anyway, was maybe a bit longer than usual.

The gentleman in front of me, as he finished gathering his bags, leaned in to the clerk and said with a nod towards me, "I'll reward her with a joke since she's been waiting so long." Or something like that. And he turned to me with a smile. "What animal has more lives than a cat?"

I could not even pretend to have a clue. "Frogs. They croak every night." He grinned. The college student behind me was clearly amused, and the cashier, too. We all smiled, exchanged looks and smiled some more. I cannot remember if I thanked him, but I hope I did. I can at least pass the moment along. Because long live kindness and generosity. Long live laughter and compassion, and what Youngest recently referred to as softness, as in soft-heartedness. Long live taking the high road. Long live truth and honesty. Long live seeing the good in the mess, or at least seeing what it could be.

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Sometimes Small Things are Huge

Around four years ago I learned I had arthritis in the joint at the base of my left big toe. 

Nine months ago I quit running. Too much pain in too many places.

In May I had surgery to remove bone spurs and loose fragments from that joint. 

Healing is a slow thing, and slow, and slow.

Today I ran a mile. It was slow but not terrible. 

And this ice pack does not need to be this beautiful, but it is.

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8/30/16

Three poems, in print. I am beyond thrilled, and a little terrified. I think I will officially call the summer of 2016 a Big Summer. 

A huge thank you to Off the Coast and Third Wednesday for including my poems in their summer issues. If interested you may order copies here and here.

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"Bowlful of Light" at How to Pack for Church Camp

Summer camp is kind of a magical thing. When I think of how much learning, growing, playing, crying, and stretching I and the people I love have done at various camps through the years it is overwhelming. So I loved finding the online anthology "How to Pack for Church Camp" recently, and I am honored that they have now included my piece, "Bowlful of Light," on their website. There is such a wonderful collection of stories here, touching on what must be millions of raw/odd/beautiful/funny/deep/painful/holy stories that play out at camps every summer. Hope it stirs up something inside of you, too.

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"That Hard Passage," ASJ

Last fall my friend Sarah asked me to share what I had carried with me into adulthood from my childhood Suzuki training. There are many things--part of what I love about teaching is that it keeps showing me more about not only my own musical training, but my whole upbringing, deeply informed as it was by Shinichi Suzuki's teachings and philosophies. But this answer, what I am starting to think of as the discipline of beauty, is the one closest to my heart. I think it transcends the Suzuki philosophy, actually, to all of music and art, but this is where I encountered it in my own life. I am thankful to the American Suzuki Journal for giving me the chance to share my essay, "That Hard Passage," with a larger audience, both in their most recent volume (44.3) and here on their website.

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