Letter From a Road Raging Mama

Dear dude in the blue Acura, I’m not proud. I saw your car backing out of its space in the parking lot. It rumbled toward mine, your bumper charging at my snow white Sentra. I slammed my hand on the horn, once, twice. I hollered, “What the F*ck are you doing?” You braked, then yelled back ...

A Few Sage Thoughts From The Birds

It’s the little mysteries that make me scratch my chin, as if chin scratching could potentially stimulate wisdom. I cannot understand small complexities. Such as, why is the fridge constantly bare if I’m always grocery shopping? Why is my wallet always empty if I spend so much time working? Who are these wry leprechauns leaving ...

The Thing About First Steps

Your limbs are dead animals. Your mind is a roaring concert, playing every possible excuse. First steps are hard. But let us remember that getting there is always more difficult than being there. So get there. I recently had a friend ask how to get started doing yoga. This happens a lot, and I expected the ...

Ungraceful Saturdays

It's not very yogic of me. To eat an entire bag of chocolate-covered almonds in one sitting, sporting my dog-hairy sweatpants, that is. But I do it sometimes, on afternoons when I am alone and the thought of doing anything remotely responsible is about as unappealing as dried dog poo in the yard. Gorging is not graceful, ...

Familiarity Can Be Dangerous

I cried when I got a new car. The snow-white paint was a brilliant shade, as if white had been reinvented. The dashboard glowed with new gadgets, a backup camera, a plethora of tiny buttons and icons, an interface exploding with digital technology. I slipped into the driver’s seat, and felt the flesh of the ...

Have We Met?

Today I took the usual route to work, my car laboring through lines of traffic. With my audiobook blasting through my speakers, I listened to an intricate story being narrated. I imagined the scenes and characters: a woman with dusty hair and high cheekbones, the city of Rome with its ancient statues and structures, fountains ...

The Worst Five Words

Pain is a personal thing, sometimes. Try as we might to let others in, there are times when they cannot come and sit in the dark rooms of our souls. Recently, a friend made a statement on social media. Fed up with the phrase, “I know how you feel,” she urged her friends to consider that it is ...

A Simple Truth About Life and Loss

It’s been longer than usual since I’ve posted here. Scattered thoughts have left me with empty pages. But still, I’ve been consuming words. I have been reading one of the most profound books I’ve ever discovered. When Breath Becomes Air is a cruel and candid novel, which is equal parts jarring and poetic. I’ve been ...