Letter to my children: Covid Emergence
/Dearest Beloveds,
In the last week I have reconnected with 4 families that fell outside of our pod circle during Covid. It feels exhilarating, joyful, overdue, and important for our family.
Read MoreLetter to my children: Privilege and Poodle English
/Dearest Beloveds,
We are going to dive in right away with a quote from Vershawn Ashanti Young’s amazing article entitled Should Writer’s Use They Own English?:
Read MoreCultural critic Stanley Fish come talking bout - in his three-piece New York Times “What Should Colleges Teach?” suit - there only one way to speak and write to get ahead in the world, that writin teachers should “clear [they] mind of the orthodoxies that have taken hold in the composition world” (“Part 3”). He say don’t no student have a rite to they own language if that language them them “vulnerable to prejudice”;
Letters to my children: On puberty and the face that launched a thousand ships
/Bedtime my Beloveds,
An ever changing adventure as you two age and change.
Gone are the days of swaddling, sleep sacks, and noise machines. For the first years of your life bedtime was a one way street. Your father and I dictated when, what, and how long.
Read MoreConvalescing as a Country Mouse
/Yesterday morning, I was admiring the rotund bellies of the robins. A passel of them were spread under the apple trees devouring warm wriggling goodness from the warming earth. Their russet beachball bellies protruded forth, so prominent and cheerful. It was delightful. Clearly, I am now a country mouse.*
A country mouse who didn’t grok until recently that she signed up for an iron man. I thought convalescing from a bone marrow transplant would be a marathon to be sure, I wasn’t aware I was enrolling up for one of those races that last for three days and involve surprise dodgeball games every 20 miles.
Read MoreHic sunt dracones
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Apparently, the more frequently used phrase during the Medieval era was “hic sunt leones,” to denote areas on a map that were considered unchartered territory. Off the map. Beyond that which was known. There is one extant example of “hic sunt dracones” - here there are dragons from 1504 CE. I am going to use that one.
When I checked in for the Bone Marrow Transplant, they very kindly gave me a schedule of what medicine I would receive what day, color coded, each day clearly demarcated, the two days of receiving cells highlighted in a different color.
Then nothing. Hic sunt dracones.
Read MoreLetter to my children: Naps and Petticoats
/Dearest Beloveds,
About a two years ago I had this idea for a collection of musings entitled, Naps and Petticoats. Aside from being a rocking title, I thought the first piece would be a place for me to share some of the methods I use to unwind and some of the things I do to deliberately spark my joy. So here goes - why wait?
Read MoreDivine intermediaries, sauna prayers, and cultural appropriation
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Part of the global nervous breakdown permeating all of our lives comes from the endemic emotions associated with the shattering of traditional heirarchies. My brother-in-law wrote a brilliant book describing this breakdown in the media (shameless plug alert) - but I want to talk about it in terms of God.
Obsessed might be too strong a word, but let us say I am very captivated by Meggan Watterson’s Mary Magdalene Revealed, especially her chapter on Thecla. The chapter is called, “The Girl Who Baptized Herself,” and that pretty much sums up her story…
Read MoreLetter to my children: Laughing contests and carnal pleasures
/Dearest Beloveds,
A few days before I headed to the hospital for my Bone Marrow Transplant, we were at dinner.
“Let’s play Animal, Vegetable, Mineral!” Clamored Bean.
“Hmmm, I am not quite sure that Momma can handle another game like last night. What was I trying to guess - a Cheetar?”
“No, Momma, it was a CheePho, half cheetah half phoenix.”
“Right, okay, I think my head may have exploded with that one.”
Read MoreThe Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 1
/
The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips*
This Fairy Tale, though not considered part of a canon as of yet, has aspirations for great things and expects to confound all expectations. Much like our heroine.
Once upon a time there was a princess who grew up in a beautiful land of marble and gardens. She was told she was smart and beautiful and accomplished. She was told to be a good friend, to keep her elbows off the table, and to clean up her own mess. Her education was beyond compare. Our princess was exposed to language, arts, music, travel, and food in addition to her formal education which taught her discipline, curiosity, and the joys of intellectual investigation and creativity. And math.
Read MoreLetter to my children: Why Books are Amazing
/Dearest Beloveds,
You two are growing up surrounded by books, words, dictionaries, library visits, grammar corrections first thing in the morning,* visits to the Atlas to look at Madagascar and talk about lemurs, and visits to Dadda’s Anatomy textbooks when your Momma wants to show you where the AV node is to talk about the Sun in your body. Your Momma and Dadda feel truly blessed that we are able to give this to you. Your Dadda, ask him, and your Momma because I have loved books my whole life.
Read MoreLetter to my children: Facetime and Fishes
/Dearest Beloveds,
I am so grateful I am doing my time away from home in a world prepared by Covid to live online. Yoga classes, Facetime, therapy appointments, healings with Rob Wergin - all are accessible from my chair in my princess tower.
I am happy to be seeing you regularly (even if only in 2 dimensions) because I am hoping that way when I am home I won’t be as shocked by your 6 weeks of growth. That satisfies some parts of me that are missing you - but not all of the parts.
Read MoreOde to my Princess River Tower
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She brings with her colored wall hangings, music, and food.
Books, art, and love letters complete the mood.
Never anticipating, as they schlepp down the hall,
past the nurse’s station, whiteboards, and signs against falls.
The glory, the view, the space and the light
- her rebirthing room - her heart sings at the sight.
Read More
