Blog Posts

“Reality is a question of perspective.” Salman Rushdie   As my year-end meditations continue, this week I’d planned to explore the notion that this year is considered, in the woo-woo sphere anyway, a year of completion. But man plans and God laughs, and instead the Universe has treated me to a walloping dose of perspective. Two weeks ago, my personal assistant  underwent veterinary dental surgery to have a cracked molar and four dangerously loose teeth extracted. True to his

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate. I will once again be sharing my signature Italian dinner with the CWP  on a break from her current dog sitting gig. Otherwise, it’s a Thursday. (The part of me that is blissfully grateful for that soothes the part of me that sometimes wistfully recalls gatherings of yore.) Right on schedule, I feel myself going into the assessment mode that seems to strike me as a new year approaches. This year, though, I feel a slight difference; my t

I’m sure it’s just frequency illusion (like when you decide you might like to buy a red car, and suddenly red cars are everywhere), but lately I seem to be haunted by this advice. If you want to fight the despair engendered by our inexorable descent into fascism and corruption… If you want to grow… If you want to save the planet… If you want to find peace… If you’re suffering from burnout… If you want to leave a legacy behind… …create more and consume less. Of course, the see

This week I’m thrilled to announce that, over the weekend, I finished the final edit of the manuscript for my forthcoming book Rising:...

It seems that remaining steadfast in my resolve to find joy and purpose as democracy continues to dissolve is becoming an almost...

Recently I requested your ideas for overcoming (or at least surviving) the previously unimaginable level of inhumanity, corruption, and...

Sleepwalking through most of my life in survival mode, I felt absolutely no connection to or curiosity about religious or spiritual...

I’ve mentioned “filling the well” in earlier posts. It’s a concept I first picked up from reading Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way many...

When I bought my ideal Caribbean cottage seven years ago, it was an extremely busy time. In addition to moving, I was still dealing with...

Today’s my birthday (again) and I’m celebrating by slacking off a bit (in fact, that may be the theme for the entire month of April,...

Those of you who are aware of my historical relationship with the holidays  may be surprised to learn that, despite a year filled with...

This year has been the mother of all time warps. A mashup of Groundhog Day and Back to the Future. Each of the days spent visiting my mother in rehab or languishing on the couch with a fractured spine lasted at least a week. And yet wasn’t it just yesterday that a shiny new year was starting? A year that held so much promise? Not gonna lie. For me, this year has been one of the most difficult in a while and I’ll be happy to get some distance from it. We’re already back to the

I woke up on a recent Sunday morning in a local hotel, where I’d decamped to give the CWP  and her visiting friends the run of the house...

It’s been a bit of a heavy week here at the mermaid cottage. My attempt to lighten it up, and provide a crowd favorite, is this latest in...

“My poor mother, who was both a terrorist and a child.” Anne Lamott This perfect gem, from one of my favorite authors, so beautifully...

It’s been about two months since my withdrawal to work on some radical self-care and a major attitude adjustment. Apparently, my Spidey...

As I enter my fourth week of extremely limited movement thanks to my latest gift from the Universe, my gratitude list is topped by my...

It’s so easy to be positive when the metaphorical sun is shining. Or at least peeking out on the horizon. Or even when the brutal storm...

This week I was remembering the short-lived experiment in which the CWP  attended a private Episcopal school for third and part of fourth grade. Her spirited nature and inability to conform led to the odd phone call from the teacher and her perspicacious interpretation of the whole experience provided no shortage of dinner table hilarity. We’d be left especially helpless by her spot-on imitations of her music teacher, a tiny, eccentric martinet whose longing for retirement wa