It’s one of those weeks where I feel quiet. I’m listening. I’m watching the leaves in the breeze and wondering about their trembling. I’m feeling very grateful for the incredible people I know and don’t know, and very existentially worried about this nation and this planet, about the bodies and hearts, breaking everywhere. I’m listening to voice texts about dreams. I’m raising the white flag on explaining the inner landscape of my unexplainable daughters. I’m conspiring with my friend Edward to get homemade bread to people who need nourishment and comfort. I’m watching my kids sleep even more intently than usual. I’m wrestling with Tara Brach in my head. I’m wondering when the tears will come. I’m anticipating sticking my feet into a lake in Wisconsin.
0 subscriptions will be displayed on your profile (edit)
Skip for now
For your security, we need to re-authenticate you.
Click the link we sent to , or click here to sign in.