It’s an hour and a half drive from the Denpasar Airport to the Lotus Bungalows, our first hotel. I’ve arrived here a week before our first group of writers, along with my friend Nancy Gertz, who I invited along as my companion for the first half of my stay. I’m here to get over my […]
First Impressions Back in Bali Read More »
I really, really, really tried to pack light for my departure to Bali tomorrow. I mean, I have all kinds of excuses. I’m the teacher—I bring special things for my students—beautiful hand-sized notebooks as gifts—so in this case with two groups in a row, that’s 32 little notebooks, giant name tags I hand-wrote on file
“Memory doesn’t work directly. . . . You might stub your toe one morning and your mind tumbles back to an old friend, who wrote poems, and introduced you one May to peonies. The buds secreted a sticky sweet juice that attracted ants. The ants crawled in and opened the big petals. The flowers couldn’t
The Road to Memory and Where It Leads Read More »
When we were discussing travel recently, my writing teacher Carolyn Brigit Flynn said, “Your soul begins the journey weeks before you physically go.” I’m leaving for Bali in less than a week and I’m definitely feeling it! It will be six years since I’ve set foot on Bali. Six years since I heard the tinkling
I’m Already Packing for Bali! Read More »
“Strawberries are too delicate to be picked by machine. The perfectly ripe ones even bruise at too heavy a human touch. It hit her then that every strawberry she had ever eaten – every piece of fruit – had been picked by calloused human hands. Every piece of toast with jelly represented someone’s knees, someone’s
People Who Work With Their Hands Read More »
“You were last seen walking through a field of pianos. No. A museum of mouths. In the kitchen of a bustling restaurant, cracking eggs and releasing doves. No. Eating glow worms and waltzing past my bedroom. Last seen riding the subway, literally, straddling its metal back, clutching electrical cables as reins. You were wearing a
I’m sitting in our retreat room in Seminar House at Mount Madonna. It is dusk and the sound of wild turkeys is rising over the deck through the open sliding glass doors on the back wall of our meeting room. The sound of crickets fills the air and as the sun sets, a pink glow
Deep Dive into Writing Read More »
One of the things I love most that Evelyn brings to our writing through grief retreat is the living altar she creates and tends. Each day it changes; every day it evolves. People are invited to add things they find in nature and to place an item on the altar that represents a loss they’re
There’s something special about the morning a writing retreat is about to begin. I woke up this morning with anticipation and focus, and everything on my future to-do list fell away. Sloughing off all the roles I play in life, the myriad ways my life splays out into the world, I am now focused on
The Morning a Writing Retreat Begins Read More »
“Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines, hidden under the weedy mass of many years and experiences. Hit a tripwire of smell, and memories explode all at once.” —Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses Tell me about a smell that reminds you of your mother (or a different significant childhood
What the Nose Knows Read More »
“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” —Albert Einstein Tell me about a mistake that opened the door to something you never expected.
“It is not up to you to finish your work, but you are not at liberty to quit.” —The Talmud Tell me about the work you are not at liberty to quit.
The Work I Cannot Quit Read More »
“The experience of silence is now so rare that we must cultivate it and treasure it. This is especially true for shared silence. Sharing silence is, in fact, a political act. When we can stand aside from the usual and perceive the fundamental, change begins to happen.” —Gunilla Norris Tell me about a time when
Stepping Into Silence Read More »
“She made of her life an offering, a beautiful gift far greater than the sum of the heartbreaks that had come one after the other. She proved, with her life, that great love can eclipse great sorrow.” —excerpt from a eulogy by Santa Cruz writer, Nancy Grace, for her mother Tell me about someone who
Can Love Eclipse Sorrow? Read More »
“All I know is that while I’m asleep, I’m never afraid, and I have no hopes, no struggles, no glories — and bless the man who invented sleep, a cloak over all human thought, food that drives away hunger, water that banishes thirst, fire that heats up cold, chill that moderates passion, and, finally, universal
