• H A N D S in the AIR

  • H A I R WE ARE

  • I have a small hymn to sing in praise of my body. It has carried me so far, through so many roles, so many seasons, so many experiences. It took me on a jog (really more of a walk) this morning. It heals itself. In healing itself it heals me. My body shows me my limits and teaches me to rest. I broke my toe a month ago and hobbled around with a swollen bruised foot and now, just weeks later, I can put on my shoes and pound the pavement. How does it work? What magic? It comes together. The cells align. The body heals. I had surgery on January 31. They split open my abdomen from pelvis to belly button to remove a 9-pound ovarian cyst. I got a radical hysterectomy as a bonus. They found cancer cells, and if my body had not created a cyst and demanded a surgery, we would never have known about those cells, those ovarian cancer cells, waiting, sinister. I could have been dead by the time we knew something was wrong. Did my body create a cyst as warning? Or did the cyst come into being because of the cancer cells? I don’t know. I only know that I could be dead. I could have left my four young children without a mother. I have a thick pink line running down my middle to tell me this story every day. I AM HERE. I AM ALIVE. My 37-year-old body has borne four children into this world. It has pudge and cellulite and aches and pains and stretch marks. I love it. It is the tool of my most meaningful interactions: snuggles, hugs, kisses, intimacy, the casual hand on a shoulder speaking, the leaning in of heads during shared conversation, the meeting of eyes that understand, the creasing of a smile, the sound of laughter, the surrendered feel of weeping, all the beautiful overwhelming emotions of this life rise up in these physical cells, bearing me forward, carrying me from one moment to the next. Blessings on you, body. Blessings on all of us in this existence. We are here. We are alive. We are blessed. We are beautiful. We are whole.

  • Thursday’s sunset at Almendros Beach

  • 🎃🎃🎃

  • BE at H O M E in this WORLD

  • ❤️

  • S A Y YES to L I F E

  • E S C U E L A

  • This is how I picture it — that feeling when it’s all input and no (or very little) output, when your creativity is blocked and you feel stuck @ron @tmj @vasta

  • P L A Y A SUCIA #tbt

  • Today’s Rumi sketch

  • In other news, it’s TACO TUESDAY, so we’ve got that going for us.

  • We have a lot of conversations about cheese in our family.

  • “You know, I think that cheddar is, like, more dominant. And what’s that other white one? Not mozzarella. Monterey jack. That one’s kind of weak. Swiss is a baby. Cream cheese is soft. And goat cheese is emotional, you know, it just kind of falls apart.”

    • Zeke, age 9
  • S A L T

  • Today’s Rumi sketch. It’s kind of ugly because this type of behavior is ugly. But let us see it, name it, and refuse to be controlled by it.

  • I’m transcribing interviews today, and I’ve learned one thing:

    I never question myself as a human more than when I’m listening to the sound of my own recorded voice.

  • S H E GOT M Y PHONE

  • P O R T A B L E PB :: did you people know that peanut butter ALSO comes in these tiny portable non-messy bundles of flavor that you can eat by the handful? So convenient!

  • B E S T FIELD T R I P S EVER

  • L O O K I N G through

  • L O V E SMILES

  • “I don’t understand my generation. At least when you were my age, everybody just wanted to have, like, a big perm. Now everybody wants to be like Kim Kardashian or something.”

    • Mara, age 12
  • F I R E in the sky Fire in my heart I don’t know where it ends But I know where it starts

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