For a long time, in my teens and early twenties, I was sure that we would see the end of the world in my lifetime. Part of me clung to science fiction in what I only now recognize as hope that I was wrong, or some unacknowledged notion that even if Armageddon was to happen,
I grew up in Upstate New York, where the very first signs that spring was on the horizon were the daffodils that poked intrepid little heads up through the snows that wouldn’t yet melt for a few weeks (or more). For the longest time, daffodils were my favorite flowers because of that, and they still
I am, admittedly, a lazy sort of Pagan. I keep an altar and I light candles and burn incense on the holidays and sometimes at other times, but I don’t go all out like I used to when I was newly arrived in pagandom. My daily meditation practice is pretty lax in the best of
I feel like there should be something witty or comforting to say right now, but the world around us is falling to pieces, people can’t work, can’t make money and the bills still come. All around me people who work in stores and salons and theaters are filing unemployment claims to try to scrape by
Back in the day when I was an evangelical Christian (yes, really), I spoke a lot about unconditional love. I believed that I acted inside that love. I believed that I understood what unconditional love really was. The truth is, I was clueless. It took a lot of changes in my life to realize that.
My week started with a phone call from my mother on Sunday in the early morning hours. My step father had a heart attack and since then we’ve been living in the waiting room of the CICU unit, getting pulled back and forth between hope and despair. This means most of life is on hold,
It is still pretty early here in California. I’m in the office of my day job, a job I thoroughly enjoy. The sun is casting golden beams of light in through the blinds and it’s hard to imagine that it is actually December. The mornings have been cold, but by noon most days it’s back