This return to purity --a slow, redundant walk through mud I will always know-- is cherished by the most masochistic part of my spotted heart. The hot water bubbles and makes me think of gluttony --the starving man's delight. But rising again from the steaming bath my shoulders burn with…
A Fight for "Good Morning"
The digital clock in the truck's dashboard flicked over to 7:41 as I pulled into my parking space. Already the sun's warm fingers were prodding me to roll down the windows and roll up my sleeves. I wished I'd hadn't tossed my shorts aside in favor of jeans that…
Textiles of Santa Cruz
dark, reflective pools rest between the rocks damp afterthoughts left by the repetitive motion of ocean waves against a cliffside where concave pockets in the black, saturated stone hold the mud-based nests of soft, swooping swallows like hope between prayer-pressed palms…
Dance on into the Night
Music, to me, is a mystery. Over the years, I tried my hand at the piano, the guitar, the flute, the violin and the harmonica... but I failed each one of these in turn without even a hint of talent to show for my efforts. I can't read music. I…
25
Today I am 25 years old. Upon this quarter-of-a-century mark, I could do something cute like listing 25 things I love about my life. Or I could count my 25 favorite memories. But, having completed a weekend retreat with my Bible study group (10 young women in a cabin for…
Fragment Me
Nobody is perfect. Each man and woman on this planet is different. Fingerprints. DNA. The non-negotiables are all unique. Is this chaos? No. Not in my mind. What I perceive as chaotic is just the random, splotchy corner piece to a puzzle for which I have no guide to build.…
Just Thinking
On March 5, the president of the University of North Carolina student body, 22-year-old Eve Carson, was murdered in a residential neighborhood off campus. By all accounts, she was a motivated, personable young woman bubbling over with personal motivation. Today, the first day after that school's spring break, students stopped…
"Tell me, Mr. Brown, what's wrong with folly?"
Sometimes I cling to my Girlhood like a life raft. I strap myself to it with Optimism and Enthusiasm and Naivete. It's a defense mechanism, admittedly, but one which I attempt to handle with adroit self-awareness... never allowing my passions to become mere single-minded pursuits, never letting my playfulness regress…