Happy New Year.
My son was four weeks old when the ball dropped and the century changed. I couldn’t believe that four weeks had passed already, and I couldn’t believe that here I was, age thirty, watching the dawn of a new millennium. I wasn’t much concerned with the end-of-days doomsayers. There were two types, the religious and the technical. I figured we had more to fear from … Continue reading Happy New Year.
Reading and libraries, an off-the-cuff joint.
The personal library. I’ve always had a library. Granted, at times, the “library” designation should perhaps be taken with a grain of salt. Is a teenager’s closet really a library, even if half is sectioned off for only books? Can you call it a library if it’s only the three shelves of the built-in wardrobe in your dorm room? I did. Perhaps it’s more accurate … Continue reading Reading and libraries, an off-the-cuff joint.
The fractured nature of (my) grief.
On grief and grieving. Did you know that Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ 1969 book “On Death and Dying” was written for medical practitioners? She wanted to address the treatment protocols for dying patients by providing information to fellow practitioners on what the experience was like for their terminal patients. It’s not a blueprint for people going through the grieving process after they’ve lost someone as I always … Continue reading The fractured nature of (my) grief.
There has always been yoga.
I encountered yoga as an exercise in the 1970s. I was seven or eight and the television show “Yoga with Kareen” was occasionally playing on the screen. I remember doing a shoulder stand and bicycling my legs. I remember being curious about the leotard. I don’t know that I’d call myself a fanatic, and I definitely wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I’ve maintained some … Continue reading There has always been yoga.
From Famine to Feast 