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Being a Writer and Parent

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I’ve been away from the endless skies of blank pages for some time. In my twenties I had something to prove—that I could be creative AND live on around 1K per month in a charming neighborhood…even if it was Spokane, Washington and not New York City or Los Angeles. I could write an entire novel while working at a chocolate shop and doing theatre on any stage that would cast me, paid or unpaid…FOR. THE. LOVE. In my early 30’s I wrote another two books because I wanted to create something beautiful and witchy and soulful…and because I had time since I was not raising children, nor married, just singularly ME. And then I walked across Spain on an ancient pilgrimage. I was channeling my inner Shirley McClain and had dared the universe to “Show me the next chapter of my life” since I had only planned out what to do with my life until the age of 30…at which point I guessed I would die, but that is a story for another time. On this walk across the Iberian peninsula, I fell in love with a
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People of the Living Soil-Weaving the World Anew

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 We show up with looms Strung in heart strings Streching fabrics of hope Across eyes Peeking through dreams of Knowing We are weaving our world anew Spring is here now, Birdsong coaxing Life into bloom Asking for soil, Full of tiny lights Wriggling with thanks Waving,  Exchanging Threads of genetic silk Binding us as kin From thought to hand To pen To paper To tree To cell To protist To the dark loam Of God.
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A Waking Dream of Living Soil

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  I had a dream of living soil Hands twined within Black Moist Humus Seething with nematodes Bacteria Fungi Holy Communion Between Life, and Life, and Life. Her touch tickling my skin and We, wrapped in an embrace With Our lover, our home, Tierra. And as we gazed into Each others’ universes, We fed ourselves With eternal bodies Transubstantiating from bacteria To human And further on, Into light, carbon, And water. I awoke Pressing my fingers against flesh In need of sunlight, Water Bacteria, Nematodes Fungi How I longed to Dance again With the grace Of Living Soil
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The Time Espen and I Came Back to Life at Thanksgiving

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The day before COVID-Thanksgiving, Espen and I decided to take a spontaneous road trip to Winema Beach to visit the legendary "Pirate Cave" we had heard about from friends. I checked the tide tables and discovered that we would arrive on the outgoing tide so we decided to head out. 0.8 of a mile before our turnoff, traffic suddenly came to a complete standstill...and remained so for an hour. Espen was remarkably patient, but eventually he reached his limit and wailed, "THIS IS SO FREAKING BORRRRIIIINNNGGG!"  "Let's give it 10 more minutes and if it's not moving we'll find a different route."  The clock read 2:10pm. Low tide was at 3:44 so I reasoned it might give us our best chance of making it through the narrow beach spit to the beach with the cave. 3 minutes later, cars started moving and within 0.1 of a mile, we passed the wreckage of two SUVs that were completely obliterated. I said a silent prayer of gratitude and we finished the last leg
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In the Beginning was the Word

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Incantation births the moon Whispers molding ether Like clay Say what you dream Speak Life into air Recognize what already exists And live forever Mustard seeds fit  On the tip of a finger Yet Mountains slide apart  At their power Say what you mean Dreams are but nascent Reality Ready to rise out of  Desire So pungent  Sticky honey spells Adhere to atoms Forming a perfect oak tree To shelter Feed, Make love beneath...
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Taking A Life

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I was raised vegetarian as part of my early upbringing in the cult. That is an entire blog post in and of itself but suffice it to say, I was more aware of turkeys as something I could draw by tracing my hand than I was of it as a relative and source of nourishment. True, my aunties would sneak me pieces of turkey under the table at Thanksgiving when we celebrated with my father's family who was decidedly carnivorous and not in the cult. Also true was the delicious feeling of transgression and taste delight that co-mingled in my mind and mouth as I savored the juicy morsels. But it was an unimaginable leap between this low key rebellion and actually connecting with a living, breathing being that gave its life so I could feel a little naughty and then scrape any evidence into the trash. Skip ahead 30 years and I'm deeply interested in knowing where my food comes from, how it is raised and treated, and how it is killed. Food justice is not only about access to healthy food,
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The World We Know Is Possible

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People know things are changing on the Home Planet, Earth. Even if they like to temper the shifts in climate with comments like, "We could use more sunshine here", the facts speak for themselves. And just because many of us in the Northern Hemisphere can still get food easily enough, doesn't mean that there aren't starting to be inconveniences, like the voluntary power shut offs in some Bay Area communities due to extremely dry conditions. PGE, the power company acknowledged that they were unprepared for the increase in fire danger last summer when a huge area of California burned down due to faulty power infrastructure. Now, Science, which has occupied a similar level of credibility as the Almighty for the last 175 years, is falling in value. "Post-Fact Era" is now a phrase on many tongues and Instagram sites, whether you identify as Red or Blue or Purple. When we no longer want to hear what an authority figure has to say, the power of the masses can
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