It’s Holy Week but it doesn’t feel that way. Lent hasn’t felt like Lent, either. I’ve made and eaten a lot of cake. I’ve had wine in the middle of the week. I’ve slept late almost every day, and went for days at a time without meditating.
Heaven knows I’m not proud of being a meat-eater, but something in me growls and snorts and licks its jowls … More
Everywhere else it’s just Tuesday—but where I’m from people are dancing, people are high-stepping in the streets because where I’m … More
The couch in the Jordan River took me by surprise. No, it was worse than that; I felt insulted. From … More
Sometimes I bump into some cool people and interesting stuff, which might not happen if I could see where I were going.
Lazarus From the cave I walked into the darknessI once called day, and gagged upon the smells.My sisters wore the … More
So, I’ve been experimenting with sonnets, just to see how hard it might be. The verdict: Sonnets are very hard. … More
Dark nights happen to some and not others, and only God knows why. St. John of the Cross called it a holy experience. Tell that to my priest, I wanted to say. Tell it to my husband, who still mourns the “nice Christian girl” he thought he married.
Meditation is one of those things that has always been for other people. Patchouli-toothpaste white people with rustic-but-pricey cedar furniture and mandala wall hangings. People who “study” Japanese cooking. People with gurus and lots of time on their hands.