Manna Meditations, Day 31 Yesterday, in a moment of joy, I lifted my iPhone to a dogwood branch knotted with small dark buds – the hope of things to come. By accident, though, I snapped a photo of my own upturned face, lit with quiet wonder. I offer these two images today in humble recognition […]
Tag: self portrait
The Body Electric: Day Twenty-One
Can I say something honest to you? I grew up in a world that talked a lot about God — a lot — and I’m not always comfortable with the things that world taught me about him. Tonight, though, as I walk the streets on this darkest night of the year, I stop in front of a […]
The Body Electric: Day Sixteen
This evening, I asked T if he would take a few simple, spontaneous photographs with me … Not all of us, of course. Just our hands: And at first, I think he felt like the whole thing was a little strange… But then this happened: Sometimes, the photos say it all. ❤
The Body Electric: Day Twelve
I find the rose almost by accident. It grows along the stairs to the backyard, struggling to bloom against the warmth of the concrete wall, right now, in the middle of December. I lean over the railing and finger its pink petals in wonder: Could this be possible? Now? The rosebush is one of the […]
The Body Electric: Day Eight
I don’t know when exactly it happened, but somewhere in the course of my 34 years, I accepted the idea that most of my clothes would be uncomfortable. These days, I have a closet full of five-inch stilettos, nipped-waist pencil skirts and close-cut clothing in rough, hard-finish fabrics. And most of the time I’m completely fine with […]
The Body Electric: Day Seven
You would think it would be easy by now — that seeing my own magic would feel as natural as breathing. But there are still days when it’s work… Days when I look at the mirror and see myself fading, and believe the lie that this makes me less: Less valuable. Less powerful. Less human. On those days, I turn […]
When I am lying with my face pressed against somebody else’s photograph …
I used to think that a painting was something you saw with your eyes… that a symphony was something you heard with your ears. I believed this because it was something my art teachers and music teachers had taught me to believe, all my life. I don’t feel that way any more. * Late afternoon. […]
be still …
Noon. I curl up on the down-filled sofa under the big bay window. Watch the light flickering down through the limbs of the old oak: There is nothing I must puzzle out here: no meaning to decode. No sign or symbol to deconstruct. There’s just me, with the sun warm on my skin. And the sun […]
I am going to tell you a secret now …
At least once a week, some kind, well-meaning person asks me when I am going to write a book. And inside, where you can’t see it, I flinch. Now, the Current Me, the one you can see standing in front of you — she doesn’t flinch. She stands there with her smooth face and her smile, […]
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