Musings & News

April 7, 2013

Scenes from a Coffee Shop

Izzy and I are no strangers to coffee shops. Most mornings we go over to see Kit and Carol at Coffee Cats in downtown Taos. For three years we’ve been sitting at the same blue table, on the same white bench, gazing out the same glass windows over the same trees, sometimes green and pliant, sometimes yellow and quivering, sometimes bare and achingly still. Those trees, we know them from root to branch as they converse with us on the wind through the open window. Izzy lifts her head to sniff out tidings carried on the breeze: of sap and […]

December 27, 2012

Presents

I. presents not a single one under the tree nothing shopped for, trussed up, unwrapped. it is a lean christmas, and as the days go by we think, “soon. perhaps soon.” but the days go by and the bank account has other needs mom flies into town from Austin and we decorate the tree snip pine boughs from the spruce in our yard and fill the house with the scent of solstice and the easy silly laughter that comes only from years spent together under a common roof. on christmas eve we drive up Taos Mountain to the authentic bavarian […]

December 8, 2012

Pomegranates for Persephone

It’s over. But I’m in shock. It’s final. But I can’t really comprehend. This is the day of closing. The house that gave birth to Duirwaigh, that nested our dreams and hopes and wild ambitions, the house that contained a thousand shades of laughter and tears and sighs, the house where I first tangoed with my husband and cradled the four-footed loves of my life… The house that later caused one hundred nightmares of things-gone-wrong, the house that eventually became the neglected, empty and sagging, an albatross around my neck, has moved into glorious new, caring hands. I’m not there […]

November 12, 2012

This Right Here

“All of life is saying goodbye.” I’m musing on that quote, and Izzy’s nebulous prognosis, as we climb into the car. We’re headed to the park for our ritual morning walk, and the sky is big and cloudless, mocking my shadowed thoughts. Its true blue light fills the heart with enough helium to make it burst from happiness. Izzy’s nose and paws are out the car window, sniffing up the sunshine and sage. It’s that simple for her. Look at this. Smell that. Sit on the lap and enjoy the ride. The feel of her snuggled between me and the […]

October 8, 2012

Becoming the Water

It was an old and beautiful library that smelled faintly of cedar and Charles Dickens. Books on the walls, deep, velvet cushioned chairs and couches, the whole place softly lit with deep thoughts. It was the final day of autobiography class with a dynamic and highly sought-after professor. Each of us had ten minutes to read from our final essay paper. An hour into it, a woman in her late 20’s with a soft smile and 80’s hangover perm began reading about ducks on a pond. She must have been good, because I could see the dust motes swirling in […]

October 5, 2012

I Know This is Goodbye

On the outside I looked normal, but my heart was jagged and bleeding, and my days were one long continuous sigh. It was Tori Amos I listened to in 1996 to ease the ache of a heartbreaking separation. She sang words written in my chest, under the disguise of normal: I go from day to day I know where the cupboards are I know where the car is parked I know he isn’t you. And here I am 16 years later sitting at a coffee shop cloaked in normal. Wake up. Take Izzy to the park. She reads the tree-mail […]

March 7, 2012

Aimless Love – an Exercise

“But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod ready for the next arrow.” — Billy Collins, “Aimless Love” Aimless Love, An Exercise I’ve borrowed this writing prompt from brilliant author Cate DiCamillo, who was inspired to create this writing exercise based on the Billy Collins poem. I find it a shining portal to imagining. My answers are below, but if you’d like to play along, here’s how it goes: Imagine your heart as a target in a field. Begin by describing the field. Describe the tripod. Describe your heart. Name the arrows. Describe the sound the […]

July 14, 2011

The Other Side of the Wishing Coin

As I’m packing up my studio and readying Duirwaigh Studios for a new adventure, I catch myself repeating “I am an awesome receiver.” Not a doer. Not an achiever. I open up my palms and breathe deep to remind myself that opening up and letting go are key to living my dreams. Funny how we are so geared toward accomplishment in this culture. We see something, we want it. It’s natural. We dream. We plot. We plan. But so many times we forget that it’s the receiving muscle that allows our dreams to find us. It’s the other side of […]

November 25, 2010

Fortunate

I. I can’t get his words from my mind. Not all of us are blessed with a Tink. You are a fortunate soul, Angi Sullins. Fortunate. Yet I sting. I sting with the memory of her body in my arms. Pierced by a rattle snake seized by a heart attack, her back arched in a sudden and violent spasm, her bladder voiding on my red tshirt in the final moments of release, the inevitable collapse against my chest as her spirit flew away. She left me in the purple of twilight in the silence of the first stars. No warning […]

October 7, 2010

Go to the Door Laughing

This being human is a guest house. Every morning is a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness Some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor. Welcome, and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows Who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture. Still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice Go to the door laughing And invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes For each has been sent As a guide from beyond. ~Rumi Saturday morning I was not […]