Contemplating the mysterious in the every day.
Singer songwriter Linda Waterfall’s voice reached listeners sometimes quavering, never flawless, always perfectly. What touched and inspired me the most about her voice, her music, is the example of vulnerability. Part of what makes her music enduring and endearing is the intimacy with which she shares herself. Gifted she was, and those gifts she shared.
Songwriting is possibly the most intimate act of co-creation I engage in – other than the making of my own children. I cannot truly write a song, but I listen for them. I invite them into me with a promise to nurture them to wholeness. Sometimes they arrive in a download; sometimes they incubate for
The swollen buds of the plum tree begin to split revealing their silky white interiors. Whistling wings pass over in the night. The ponds at the crossroads fill and chime with the chorus of frogs. The ephemeral spice of daphne, the thick cinnamon of burgeoning alder and cottonwood perfume the mist. The anticipation of warmth
As the darkness weights the scales of time in her favor I feel the balance within me shift. That which I think of as the sun parts, all that is forward and surface, logical and logistical, social and appropriate settles in for the long winter as my moon aspects overtake me. My moon qualities are
On these dark days of late autumn sorrow sometimes finds me. I tell myself on the lowest of days that my sequestered way of being in this world renders me obsolete and that I am powerless against the surge of injustices that compose the structure of our society. This feeling of powerlessness and disconnection tempts
This is homecoming week at Olympia High School. My senior daughter is preparing to sparkle up for the traditional dinner, dance, and chilly photos on the Capitol steps. Even though I find it touching to take her shopping for a dress, pick out the perfect lipstick, and see her emerge from the bathroom transformed into