Grief is a sacred journey

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Dear Anxiety: It’s Time for A Heart-to-Heart Talk

I know you’re scared. How could I not know when I wake up in the night with a knot of fear in my gut? I know you’re worried about the world. I know you’re uneasy about a

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When Forgiveness Requires Patience

“Instead of getting angry, nurture a deep caring and respect for troublemakers because by creating such trying circumstances they provide us with invaluable opportunities to practice tolerance and patience.” ― Dalai Lama “She’s amazing,” the nurse practitioner said

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The Girl Who Believed in Good Government

On election night, I went to bed before 10 p.m. My breath was shallow. My belly tight. Reading didn’t help. I got up and took Ambien. Damn this election and the fear-mongering headlines. I awoke at 2 a.m.

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Welcoming the Dark Time

“Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.” ~Madeleine L’Engle This morning, soft gray dawn peeks through my bedroom shades at 6 a.m. With daylight savings time gone, I wake up early, but miss those

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How to Remember the Sorrow We Can’t Forget

“I don’t come to Vic’s cairn so often now,” I said to my friend. She and I had walked my favorite forest trails before taking a side trail to the stone memorial where my husband’s ashes are buried.

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Why I’ll Vote for Hillary Clinton

My college years began with the assassination of John Kennedy in 1963. In 1968, the year after I graduated, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated.  The world felt threatening and unstable. A lot like now. I was

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Keeping Love Alive When Grief Goes Underground

I miss my big brother’s Sunday calls. I want to tell him Bob Dylan won the Noble Prize in Literature. My brother Jim brought Dylan records home from college when I was 14. I want to tell him Clinton

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A Spiritual Path with Heart

Gayatri Devi was close to sixty when I met her in the 1970s. She was small, dark-eyed, and bubbled with joy and laughter. She wore a white sari with a cloth draped loosely over wavy graying hair. I

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Healing the Wounds Made Us Friends for Life

Last week, I came home from town to find Pat sitting on my back porch. I expected her, but not so early. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t home when she arrived. We don’t need formalities. We

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Let’s Talk about What Matters: What’s for Dinner?

Bowls of ripe San Marzano tomatoes flashed red alert on my back porch table. I tried to ignore them. I wanted to do other things: write a blog about something important, attend a dream group, and plan a

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