A year now. For a year now, I’ve been trying a new way of being. It’s a slower life, one that allows a tiny splash of grace to trickle into the moments that are frenzied, like when the dogs are barking and the kitchen timer just went off, and the toddler peed on the rug
Bee. Last week, you played with Barnacles, Peso, Shellington, Kwazii, Dashy and Trick (whom I am mispronouncing, you tell me). They are your friends in Ecuador, and they are found in the treetops, but sometimes they move to the fish pond and you must call them each, one by one, until they float to the
While brushing my teeth, a realization arrives so quickly that I spit, fast, wipe the errant toothpaste on my bath towel and tiptoe in my moccasins down the hall to the office, and I write this: I have been evaluating my good days all wrong. Nightly, I write a simple daily recap in my journal.
I became a brunette last week. It was not an effortless change, not a spur-of-the-moment decision as many of my ill-timed beauty experiments have been. This was not Sun-In, or perms. It was calculated, a mass text to my girlfriends, asking for explicit instructions on my next hair adventure. Go dark, roared the crowd, and
Here’s what I want to tell you today. I want to tell you that, if my words are causing vibrations that are running opposite to the truths you hold – sound waves striking dissonance or resistance or choppiness in the good and worthy balance you’ve been working toward, close this browser. There is a difference
There isn’t a word for the unique brew of abundant scarcity. I feel it always, nearly every day – this wave of everything and nothing at the same time. This perceived abundance of time and moments with the very knowledge that it is passing, right now, this very moment. That the sun outside is sinking
Hi, there! If you’ve been visiting this site for any number of minutes, you’ll likely have read my “official” bio. If not, it’s here. It’s the sizzle reel of my career thus far; the big, celebratory moments awash in glitter remnants and golden trophies. (Actually, there are no trophies. Can I get a trophy?) There
Ever since I began slow blogging two years ago, I’ve noticed a strange trend in my own life; an unexpected shift that seems counter-intuitive to how I’m wired to operate – how our culture is wired to operate. It’s this: The better the moment, the less pull I feel to document it.