On Surviving the Cold: Don’t Worry, This One’s Funny

On a recent Saturday night in January, I hustled through the spiteful cold of a parking lot to the refuge of a nightclub. “Refuge” is not a word I typically associate with “nightclub,” and I chose it specifically so that you might understand just how cold the evening was. HOW COLD WAS IT? It wasContinue reading “On Surviving the Cold: Don’t Worry, This One’s Funny”

On the Language of Trees: An Elegy for Mary Oliver

When I was a child, I prayed to trees. Not to any particular tree–I had nothing like a shrine or altar. But whenever I needed the calming constancy of something more deeply rooted than myself, I’d journey beyond my house to find a timber full of strength and refuge. There, the hum and whir ofContinue reading “On the Language of Trees: An Elegy for Mary Oliver”

On meeting a medicine man

I keep looking for a bruise to bloom, but it doesn’t come. There’s tenderness there, in the soft flesh just before my chest becomes breast, but the skin maintains its perpetual paleness. I realize that I’d be less unsettled with a bruise, if the sensation manifested something that would fade with time. I’d feel moreContinue reading “On meeting a medicine man”