I stood there in awe, my eyes blurring with tears, listening to the hush and experiencing the unnamed. I couldn’t tell which was stranger: feeling the rainforest in me, or me in the rainforest. And then my phone rang.
We are all trying, in our own imperfect ways, to find an entrance into a better self.
Sometimes love arrives ahead of you, in spite of you. Cooking slowly became a way of being there for the people I love. A wordless language that says: I see you. I hear you. You’re worth the onion-chopping.
Every morning I convince myself that if I could just find the right system, the right schedule, everything would finally balance.
As if life needed one more complication, my anniversary with life, my birthday, usually falls somewhere inside the Three Weeks, that narrow corridor of Jewish time when celebration starts to feel suspicious.
