Back when I was writing those emails that showed I wasn’t entirely okay, in hindsight, here’s what I believe was going on: I was metamorphosing—being reduced to a globby mess so I could reconfigure....

Last week, as I wrote my PostScript about the challenge of asking, I tipped my head down as my hand scribbled words into my composition notebook.  I didn’t want my writer buddy, who was on a Zoom...

When my morning alarm goes off, I pull myself up to sitting, lean back against my headboard, and grab my phone to begin a meditation. On Sundays, I sometimes first check that my weekly email went...

It’s Tuesday. Tonight, Jane Friedman is speaking at The Mercantile Library, and I made cookies for the event. They’re oatmeal-chocolate chip-pecan, in regular and gluten-free versions. If you’d...

In response to the past few Sundays’ messages, several people have replied, asking, “Are you okay?” I am, but I’m not. No, that’s not right. I’m not, but I am. There’s been another reminder that...

I like words, but I also like images. Sometimes images serve me better. This is something I drew a few years ago: It reminds me that while the seed is in the soil, when it looks like nothing is...