my country my culture is like an alcoholic parent on a bender taking taking taking drinking the last drop and destroying and we, like the little orphans we are like hungry birds chirping squawking pecking clawing for attention for resources for space to be heard to be seen to be loved no space no recess…
winter arrived with a song (and a roar!) the turning wheel brought new light (and lusciousness) hearts drawn on steamed windows (with music and delight) like a dervish, i whirl! like a primrose, I open! the honeysuckle is a tangle of naked branches (summer, a distant memory)
Last night, my kids were watching “Whose Line is it Anyway?” and marveling at how talented the people are saying things like, “How do they do that?” or “They are amazing.” While it’s true that they are talented improvisers, it’s also true that we can all do that. My training has taught me that improv…
I have a strong mind. I used to use it as a weapon. It cut, it slashed, it burned, it hurt. Then one day, I discovered where my true power lives (in my heart), and now I use my mind as a tool. Sometimes this tool destroys (mindfully) but often this tool builds and creates…
mama bird in her nest protecting her own eggs I am a walking mirror neuron. Highly empathic and extremely sensitive, I feel other people’s feelings and tend to see deeply into situations. It’s both a gift and a burden. At at improv class I took recently, I mentioned my tendency towards empathy in a self-deprecating…
