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“Thoroughly unprepared, we take the step into the afternoon of life. Worse still, we take this step with the false presupposition that our truths and our ideals will serve us as hitherto. But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning, for what was great in the morning will be little at evening and what in the morning was true, at evening will have become a lie.”Carl Gustav Jung…
My dreams are always of flight, but my reality is always to freeze. I’ve been saying to my concerned friends that I am frozen, waiting for the sign of what my action should be, guarding my energy so I know where, when and how to strike. My friend stopped by yesterday in fear flight – she is riding the roller coaster guarding her activities, guarding her speech – she is guarded, guarding and on guard.…
In our ACA meeting tonight, we talked about red flags and the familiar way we all ignore them. And then one person said that a writer had written about all the lovely red flags flying all around. The image cracked me up. I’m trying to find the humor in the moment. I struggle. All the red flags flying all aroundAll the red flags flying all around
Yesterday in a zoom meeting someone mentioned this poem: Whatever happens. Whateverwhat is is is whatI want. Only that. But that.~ Galway Kinnell And then I got in bed, and read, and started falling asleep to words, and then I turned off the light. I pulled the covers up and began settling into a deeper breathing. I welcomed sleep. And then I woke up two hours later. Some of the what is was circling my brain.…
In times when everyone wants a piece of you for their own gain, become more yourself. After a few years hiatus, I’m back to the blog. And while you’re at it – check out my niece, Lexi’s blog too.
I spent yesterday doing what I love: being around writers, readers and books. They haven’t figured out the venue or logistics, but Homegrown, a literary festival by the public library, is getting a lot of things right. I ran into a friend who I met when I first moved to Bay Saint Louis. A writer, photographer, journalist, jewelry maker and publisher, she moved away a couple of years ago. When she saw me, her eyes…
A recap of the last four weeks is contained in my buzzword: vulnerability. My community feels as if we are knee deep in troubled times, and I fall back on we’ve been here before – our shared history is resistance, and I believe in US. I am vulnerable to the fear I feel, they feel, we feel and I also know it is fear. In the last 30 days, I have met new people and…
I watched Questlove’s 50 years of SNL music history on Monday night at a friend’s house. I was 15 years old when the first episode aired. I realize it was radical television but hadn’t understood the groundbreaking thinking and eclectic music it introduced me to over the years. Songs of freedom, songs of resistance, songs of transformation. Prince was not Prince when he sang PartyUp on SNL then stormed off stage singing: You’re gonna have…
I’ve struggled with a vision for what happens next with Tin. What would coming home feel like? I dreamed last night Tin crawled in bed with me. At first I turned, thinking it was the version of Tin as a young, footed-pajamas boy, but I looked again and he was a full grown man. He lay there beside me, his body stretching longer than mine. I smiled and said, “Do you want me to teach…
Yesterday, I drove windy backroads lush with pine forests in and out of Louisiana and Mississippi that lead to Franklinton, where my mom is buried and where her people are from. My mom’s people – salt of the earth – are farmers, paper mill workers, teachers, geologists, photographers, artists, nurses and 4H competitors. The day we buried my mom, I walked up to my uncles and aunt who were standing abreast and thought they are…