Reflections – 20 May 2015

During my freshman year of high school, we read many of the Greek classics. Tragedies were never my favorite, far preferring the comedies. Yet, these past weeks have reminded me of the importance of recognizing our shared, messy, heartrending, and often tragic humanity. My father in law passed away this morning. His death was not unexpected. He was afforded a rare gift; he died exactly how he...

Being Me

"If you do not express your own original ideas, if you do not listen to your own being, you will have betrayed yourself. Also you will have betrayed our community in failing to make your contribution to the whole."  -Rollo May Every writer must struggle with finding their own voice. At least, that's what I hear and read when I look to others discussing their development as a writer. I find...

Choosing Our Battles, Defining Our Terms

In high school, I was fascinated with the knowledge that my thoughts may not be my own. I voraciously read Subliminal Seduction and every other book about neurolinguistic programming, advertising, and other forms of mental and emotional manipulation. I abhorred the fact that the things I thought, or bought were furthering someone else's agenda, one that may not have my best interests at heart. I...

Scenes From a Memorial Service

Driving home from Sacramento, I have The Beta Band's The Three EP's playing as loud as I can stand it. It's late at night and the weather is unusually warm for March. This is the definition of my life | Lying in bed in the sunlight | Choking on the vitamin tablet | The doctor gave in the hope of saving me | In the hope of saving me My husband and I pull into the small lot and I wonder aloud how...

Weekly Reflections, 16 November 2013

Last night, I awoke from a dream, crying. In my dream, I was remembering my last moments with my dog, Oliver, as I was about to have him euthanized. Only this time, I was begging; begging my Gods, begging the veterinarian and staff that he not die in distress and that I should be the last he saw before he drew his last breath and his heart beat its last rhythmic thump. I remembered stroking his...