Imagine every cell in her/your body is dancing to her/your favorite song moving in perfect harmony to the uplifting melody that makes her/ your body come alive and frees her/you of all worries and fears releasing all illness and pain as healing, energy, hope and peace become the rhythm of . . .
Seniors Day thoughts. I don't feel like a senior. My hair isn't grey, at least it's not supposed to be, given my monthly investment at the salon. I'm usually pretty active But there I was, pushing a metal shopping cart around Walgreen's on Seniors Day, the first Tuesday of the month. I AM a . . .
The closet still exists. So many of us in the San Francisco Bay area find it hard to believe that it does: we've lived with openly out colleagues, politicians and friends for so many decades. Gay marriage has become mainstream. Gay couples can adopt. Sometimes we forget that there are places and . . .
Those who knew me growing up also knew the contentious relationship I had with my father. His role was to guide me with an iron fist and I fought him tooth and nail, passively and aggressively. The day I walked down the aisle with M my father grinned ear-to-ear. I always believed behind that smile . . .
When I visit someone whose house is organized and minimal with plenty of room and white space, well, I love it. I love the idea of living in an orderly place. Where tabletops are mostly empty. Dresser tops don't have the detritus of the last few days. And the evidence of the week's cooking spree . . .
During our life together I spoke to my mother just about every single day. We lived thousands of miles apart for decades, but hearing her voice was an important part of my daily life. I can't explain it--I was a grown woman, after all--but in some way my mother's voice rooted me. Ironic, isn't it, . . .
We think we're brave? No. Here's brave: A mother with babe in arms getting on a boat in Sicily--or Ireland--or any other country-- in some form of steerage under horrific, unsanitary conditions and coming alone to a strange land where she didn't even know the language. That's BRAVE. And this is . . .
Sometimes, I get hung up on knee-jerk "shoulds." Those are rules that don't stand the test of thought--things we sometimes think automatically. Of course, one of those "shoulds" is a functional family, something I don't have and used to long for. Once in a while, that longing comes back, along . . .
Do you ever look at old family pictures and wonder at the innocence they portray? How we knew nothing of the life that was to unfold? How each decision we made took us in one direction or another, and that direction completely changed what might have been another outcome? Do you look into your own . . .
We're all just walking each other home. ~Ram Dass "Home." It's something every religious tradition references, but regardless of which we follow, or even if we follow none at all, "Home" is the same place. I am as convinced of this as religious zealots are convinced that their way is the only . . .