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Archive for May, 2023

break in the clouds
out of the blue
gold spills in

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There are cups on my shelf
I will never use—
cups that will never hold tea
nor water nor coffee.
It brings me such joy
they are there, though,
filled, as they are,
with memories.
Perhaps this is how
I begin to teach
the thirstiest parts of me
that a cup without something
tangible in it
is not always empty.

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Thank you to all of you who have already bought All the Honey! YOU are the reason it is sold out! And the other great news is the second printing is destined to arrive in stores on May 11! Yay!!! (and it’s going into a third printing now!?!)

If you are looking for it, you can order it  …

1) from your local bookstore!
2) from my local bookstore where you can have it signed to you
3) from bookshop.org (which sends proceeds to independent booksellers
4) from Amazon

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Surprise Gift


 
 
In a crowded room
on a mid-spring night
there was a moment
when, sweet providence,
we found ourselves
alone and able to weep
and hold each other
as if there weren’t
conversations all around us,
as if it hadn’t been years
since we’d last fallen
into each other’s arms,
as if it were the most normal
and natural thing
to hug too long,
to weep because,
to forget the rest of the world
and know, in that moment,
what a gift it is
to trust.

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with thanks to Joi Sharp

There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your heart, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.

―Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith


Again today I rest my hand above my heart
and feel how naturally the body softens,
how simple it is in this moment to forgive
myself for thinking I should be anything
but what I am. Hello air that fills
this body. Hello life that pulses through.
Hello mystery of gentling. Hello self
who would resist. I rest my hand
above my heart and think of how
for many years my teacher laid
her teachings exactly there—
placed them right where my hand is now
so that when my heart broke,
the teachings fell in, just as the Rabbi
once said they would.
I think of how it saved me, this falling in,
how in that terrible breaking moment,
what had been understood only by the head
became blood, became breath,
became every step, every unstep,
became nerve, became bone,
became true.
I rest my hand above my heart
and feel how this, too, is the tenderest of teachings—
to say yes to the body, to ask nothing of it,
to feel in the palm the miracle of heart beat,
and fall in, fall all the way in.  

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