Salt Water Clay I do not knowif it is the beauty of recognitionor the marvelof what is saved from imagination sothat it might bloom with experience. But there are those times— when the gloryof an honest heart issinging its songor writing its Word orsculpting its emotionand meets in another heartthe warm reception of honor— that…

I love the idea of sleeping loose rather than sleeping tight. I close the evening email to a friend with the wish “sleep loose.” Tonight I decided to explore that notion a bit…to see what it might look like. sleeping loose when you hearthe sparkleof dreams a’comingand see the wide, free colorsof the tracks aheadand…

It has been a while since posting anything new. Forgive me, those of you who check regularly and are wondering where I have been! The end of the school year is not my most reflective time. The chaotic schedule of different activities and celebrations, the hype level of my students, my goofballs, my borrowed daughters,…

Why it doesn’t bother me that it is pouring rain at 7:00 AM on a workday… The last two days have been a pair of the most incredible days I have had in a long, long time. I spent at least ten hours outside each day, walking the city and Central Park, sitting in public…

long live women trees dancingwith akimbo limbson branched out hipsfinding their sway in the winds women stones beingcalm steadying warmth,old wisdom that smoothsand flames within women drums teachingthe primordial flowof passionate energyfrom one to another to the universe women saints living,discovering, becoming.the glory of Godfor the world women friends loving,holding, and listening.Needing and sharingand walking…

Over the last several months a friend and I have established a ritual of exchanging an evening email most nights. The length varies, but always includes wishes for a good night and good dreams. It is a simple, peaceful, care-full ritual I have come to enjoy very much. Last night, though, I wrote that there…

The Branch Is a strong one, an old one.Accustomed to the weightof the people who choose her.She believes in the simple joyof offering them what beauty she can She makes the windwhisper in their presence,shaping the soundswith the perfumed scoopof petals by the thousands. Beyond the whisper,there is a song in each wind.The branch knows…

This came after the pleasant surprise of opening a book at The Strand to “Parable of the 6th Night of Creation” by Muriel Rukeyser, having earlier in the day had a conversation with a friend about us wanting to go find a tree suitable for sitting and talking and looking. Here’s the Rukeyser bit– The…

It’s Like This It’s like this, young one. It’s hard to describe, young one. It’s got no set shape,though I’ve seen it looklike a smiling cat, a rinse water wet plum,and a pair of handspulling weeds. It’s got no special sound,though I’ve known it tosing forth from a cello string,and heard it said thatshe can…

There is talk sometimes of the “sleep of the innocent” and I do not profess to have had that any time recently. What I have had, though, for the past several nights is the sleep of one who has done much, worked much, shared much, and experienced much. It has been the immobile sleep of…