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A Cosmic Hive of Humanity

A Cosmic Hive of Humanity

I’m writing this note from Boudhanath, a city inside of Kathmandu, Nepal. I don’t believe in bucket lists – good god, no – but I do hope you to get to this place sometime in your life – the sooner the better. Not that it’s going anywhere; it’s been here...

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On a flight to Kathmandu …

On a flight to Kathmandu …

As I write this * I’m on a flight from Guangzhou, China to Kathmandu, Nepal, where I’ll be co-leading a writing workshop for 10 days with my friend James Hopkins who runs the Himalayan Writers Workshop. It’s surreal to be leaving the country now, a day before the...

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Claire and the Butterflies

Claire and the Butterflies

This is not the first time this year that I’ve sat down to write a blog post and not known what to say. I am speechless about the state of the world. I am flattened every time I hear Trump’s voice or watch him point his finger at some mysterious enemy on television. I...

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Time to Wake up, Sleepy Head

Time to Wake up, Sleepy Head

When I was 5-years-old, my grandfather, a photographer, decided that the shot he wanted was me, naked, standing on the diving board of his pool in Los Angeles. He took a lot of pictures of me when I was young  – maybe because I was the first grandchild, the...

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This Is Me Scrappy And Relaxed

This Is Me Scrappy And Relaxed

This is me just after I’ve woken up, completely unassembled. It’s me before a shower or a workout, me before I know what comes next, before I get all smart and strategic, before I pluck my unruly eyebrows or go after those persnickety chin hairs. Me before...

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The Middle Way

The Middle Way

After seeing pictures of children in cages, it’s nearly impossible to write about anything else. Even writing that sentence makes me uncomfortable – mostly because to go on living as we do – just the regular stuff; get to the bank, stop by the market, write the blog...

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Why I Am A Wild Writer

Why I Am A Wild Writer

Because in a world that has become even crazier than I can remember, and I hear myself telling friends how busy and tired I am, when making a date with someone can take me weeks, and texting is the new talking, when losing my phone feels like losing an arm, and...

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Maybe You’ll Teach Me How to Love

Maybe You’ll Teach Me How to Love

“Maybe you’ll teach me how to love.” That’s what he said to me as we lay in the sparse grass by the creek near his cabin. I didn’t know about that, though I did suspect that I was going to need to teach him about the conjunction of your – as in, your purse – and...

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What I Tell Myself When I’m Feeling Down

What I Tell Myself When I’m Feeling Down

That everything is actually okay – that your life is practically charmed; You’re not sick, are surrounded by people who you love, and who love you. You have work that is built on words, a career you conjured from air, feathers and wood smoke, a schedule...

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Watching The Heaviest Blossoms Fall

Watching The Heaviest Blossoms Fall

A couple of days ago I was standing in my kitchen before a class with a couple of my students, Mary and Christy, and I was telling them about all the mistakes I’d been making lately, dropping balls left and right, and Mary, who teaches a desktop publishing class at a...

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“Truth is Stranger than Fiction” – Mark Twain

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