Desolation Coucous

We experienced our grief in a new way – between our teeth, on our tongues, in our bellies. We were full. Our sadness was complete.

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Writing for Fun, Writing for Life

Time and again, I have seen how writing can be incredibly empowering. This winter, writing became one of the ways in which I was able to show care and love for my partner while he was going through the ordeal of open-heart surgery. One of the most comforting decisions we made was to write about his healing process on Caring Bridge. The writing was a lifeline for us — sharing broke up the isolation, exhaustion and anxiety that serious illness generates.

photo: Holly Troy

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Taking Time and Navigating the Mundane

I haven’t written in a while – but this is a start. As fall was settling in, and since my sister’s death, I’ve retreated. This has been an assessment period. My energy has been low – and I’ve been looking at where I need to cut back and stop leaking energy. I know I have […]

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Checkin’ In

Finally had a chance to just be alone today. Took Penny Dog for a walk in the woods. Thought about my sister. She would have liked the walk. Talked to my mom on Wednesday, she sounded tired but a bit more at peace. I can’t imagine how my mom feels, but I was relieved to […]

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Rebirth!

I have been on a dark journey these last few weeks — dealing with basic survival issues having to do with health, gender bias, and the endless dismal samskaras of the state and federal government systems. Happily, I am back! Sometimes the darkness is a journey through a birth canal of sorts — painful but […]

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Number Nine

Still, it’s Thursday, the day I was born, and I get the chance to step out of my everyday life and remember—I’m ALIVE!—while I dog/house sit for some dear friends in Scottsdale.

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“Who You Lookin’ At?”

Phoenix Graffiti Who You Lookin’ At? Enquiring minds want to know. Private Property That’s all relative now, isn’t it?

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Rubble, Trouble, and Celestial Evolution at my Door

Dreaming I am driving in the city, a city, the way I dream of New York lately. Houston Street is always a vast 8-lane highway that breaks off in a V, dividing the Lower East Side from the rest of the city. Massive buildings, uneven, bulging, and swaying—thousands and thousands of windows. No room for air. It’s grey, the sky, the city, everything. Even red and yellow have a coat of grey.

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