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Home of the Heart

Last night I had the anxiety dream about homelessness that I’ve anticipated since losing my jobs last spring.

I rarely talk about my fear of homelessness, especially with married friends. When I do, they say things like, “You won’t be homeless. You can stay with us.”

When I report their assurances to my shrink, a practical woman who knows from rough times, she raises her eyebrows. “People think they’re being supportive,” she says. “But staying on their couch would not be the same thing as having a home. Minimizing your valid fears is not helpful.”

My shrink never sweetens realities. Maybe she does with other people, but she is well-acquainted with my capacity to om-shanthi myself right into destitution. I’ve done it before.

It reminds me of a joke I tell clients. Continue Reading →

The Temple of Rosh HaLunar

New moon, new moon, new moon! I haven’t been this excited for a moon in a dog’s age, and it’s appearing in hyper-controlling Virgo just as ocean god Neptune opposes Mercury and Mars in Virgo, and Venus sits pretty in this sign as well. What does it all mean? That this lunar cycle is less about tossing what doesn’t work and more about making cozy, clean order out of what does–even if it’s as nebulous and dreamy as Neptune himself. I complain about Virgo all the time, but the truth is she’s the healer of the zodiac. We feel safe and seen under her g-d-is-in-the-details gaze even when we rebel against the boundaries she sets. Continue Reading →

The Church of Marathons and Soup

This being rural New England in September, I fetched all the produce for this soup from farm stands within miles of where I’m perched. Now it’s simmering on the stove, hopefully to take the edge off this cold, foggy Sunday as I write through feeding the birds with my Daddy in 1978. As of today I’ve written about a quarter of this book, which feels both daunting and impressive. I’ve never run a marathon but I imagine it’s as exhilarating and impossible as this. Thanks goodness everything I’ve foraged, stewed, baked, broiled and simmered here has produced such immediate pleasures. Cooking and writing are such happily codependent activities.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy