Category: Writings
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The Learning Curve
I hit an oil slick on a sharp downhill curve and my bike and I went careening across the road. My partner, who went down right behind me on the same slick on the same curve, fared worse: his helmet grew a deep crack and he lost his short-term memory for a while in the…
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Naked soul playing with fire
“… with the amps blasting and Jason sweating as if he were being barbecued under the stage lights, he called for more air conditioning but no air conditioning would save him under those conditions – never mind that he seems to inhabit his own personal inferno.”
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Rising from our ashes
The day begins with a sigh, so much to lose, so much to gain. I disagree with those who say that we are born innocent and pure. Rather, we are born plump and unformed — beautiful in our rawness perhaps, but just a bare hint of who we may be. We are born of colliding…
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The training
It is early morning. The hills are buried in a vast down comforter of muffling, white fog. Even as I watch, in no hurry to see the morning become day, I see the fog lifting against the hills, like a thermometer slowing rising. Once the ridge line is clear (and it is safe on those…
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Unabashed
I am writing, acting, putting words to paper in order to exercise them, exorcize them, get them out. They reside within me but they must out. It is the never-ending breathless gush. I am learning that mastery of the little things leads to mastery of the big things. I have always tended to focus on…
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The gush of Life
The crest of the hills runs like a ragged edge across my horizon, dividing this world from the other. I declare in this moment that I will break through. That I will not stay in this place. That I will not accept things the way they are, that I will push myself forward into the…
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The glistening shards
Glistening shards lie all around me. I must watch my step because in spite of their beauty – or perhaps because of it — they are deadly. I stand immobile, afraid to move my bare feet lest the shards slice my flesh and drain my blood. I admire them from a safe distance. These shards…
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A woman in Buenos Aires
The trail of passion leading from the South Carolina statehouse to an apartment off of Avenida Libertador is befitting of Argentina’s reputation as the land of impossible romances. The set-up is perfect: Mark Sanford, a successful U.S. politician, throws all caution to the wind, turns off his cell phone, escapes to the arms of a…
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The glistening shards
My past life drains behind me as I prepare to transform again. This time there will be no running away, no half measures but rather a descending to the deepest part of myself. I know that I am within reach this time, that I carry the seed of what I will become inside me. The…