haiku stones

Haiku – A Practice in Noticing

Last year around this time, I was at the On Being Gathering. I was spiritually diving with a group of strangers. I was deeply moved. I looked through my journal from that time and found haikus. John Paul Lederach said from the stage that he has a practice of writing haikus. He counts the syllables on his fingers while he goes from place to place. Occasionally he writes them down. He shared a few of his, and encouraged us to write our own. I wrote them. I’m kind of delighted by them. Writing a haiku feels like skipping stones on…

I Didn’t Know I Was This In Love

I didn’t know I was this in love with my husband. I know that sounds ludicrous. We’ve been married for a while. Together nearly seven years. But my god, love is strange. It’s bigger than I expected. If you can think of my little gay heart as a house, I feel like I’m on a home makeover show, and someone redid the rooms while I was gone and added a huge expansion. In fact, I think my HUSBAND did the renovation. And I’m still a little shocked, to be honest.

IT WORKED. Why Am I So Shocked?

I said in my last post that when something bad happens in the news, something that’s far away, a great place to start is to reach out to people you think might be affect by that news and tell them that you love them, without condition, without doubt. Tell them you love them. That alone is way more powerful than most people think. And then, of course, I should have known this would happen… People told me they love me.

Floating Through

I’m still processing my Grandmom’s death. I asked my therapist yesterday, “How long does the sadness last?” He said, “The funeral was on Friday… well… it will last a while longer…” So, I float. I miss her. There has been a lot of missing in my life. But this one is bigger… the first chapter among many I’m sure will follow in the great missings of my life. Writing has helped the most, so I have been writing and writing. Memories pile onto memories until it seems the room is filled with them. All of them spark joy… and sadness…

Noticing the leaves

Why Do I Write?

Hi, friends. I’m so grateful you read this, even though I don’t know who you are. Actually… scratch that. I know my cousin reads. He told me so when I saw him at Christmas. (Hey, Mason! Thank you for saying that!!!) And I have the sweetest words logged away in my memory from you, kind friends, who have called me out on my writing, said that in some way it mattered to you that I wrote.  I was at a Christmas party, and someone told me that when something bad happens, they look to see if I’ve written something. That may…