Yoga class, late sun in the window, glowing onto my face. I’m at work, of all places, in a bright conference room with chairs pushed to the walls. The instructor’s voice is quieting now. Lying back in Savasana pose, a screen of sunlight across my lower eyelashes is more blinding than enlightening. Squinting, I see the Sycamore trunk outside is dappled with patches of color like an oil painter’s melancholy palette.
It’s an ending, he is saying, every new beginning is. Yoga is the balance of opposites, and there is no moment like this one. As this practice ends, the rest of the evening begins, he says, and think about how you will live it.
To me, it’s bigger than an evening. I’ve been told I have just three months Continue reading “After It Ends”
I’ve gathered my favorites from 2018 and I’m locking them in, “final answer”. I tend to categorize and collect in life, and that may be reflected below. But it’s also because I have such a bad memory, this list is basically a note to myself to remember later. If you’ve liked some of these too, let me know!
Books | Movies | Podcasts | TV Series | Music
Continue reading “2018 Favorites”
A24 Films have done it again, first horrifying us by exposing our high school hearts @ladybird and now a disturbingly honest portrayal of @eighth grade. Spend your therapy money on seeing this film twice.
That is, if you’re ready to revisit 8th grade. Continue reading “Eighth Grade”
It’s been a stretch of formlessness creatively, waiting for change to spark. More creative input than output. After writing about and for change, it’s been good to drop the agenda and just breathe.
It could seem empty unless I close my eyes and see the change already at work, hovering over the waters.
Inhale, exhale. Continue reading “The Hovering”
If the Return of the Prodigal Son were a theater production, which part would I audition for? After spending Advent immersed in the story, I know I could play either son well. But do I have what it takes to play the father?
I set out on this writing project without knowing it would end where it started: Continue reading “Living the Painting: Advent Week Four”
Last week the Peace of Advent was seen in the prodigal son’s return to the father of Advent Hope from week one. This third Sunday of Advent – themed on Joy – I’m seeing myself in the older brother. And it’s not hard for me to do. Especially Continue reading “Lost in Advent: Week Three”
The prodigal son was once an innocent child, and then he wasn’t. And now he wants to be again.
Last week‘s Advent focused on Hope by sitting with the Father on the porch, “actively waiting for that moment when the child turns home.” This week I’m inviting myself to return home with the son, who like the second week of Advent, is yearning for Peace. I’m spending time with Rembrandt’s painting and Nouwen’s book to cast new light on my favorite parable.
The prodigal son was a child, a young man, who declared in the most dramatic way, “Myself.” My daughter as a toddler would pull Continue reading “Child Again: Advent Week Two”