healing
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I once, according to my dad’s telling of the tale, came downstairs from my room, obtained a jar of jam from the refrigerator, took a spoon from the silverware drawer, and started to eat jam directly from the jar. When Dad questioned me, and asked what I was doing, I became defensive. Whatever was happening
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Yesterday was too much. In fact, the too much started the day before, and I didn’t do a good job of mitigating it at the outset. But who is great at mitigating, really? On Thursday, when I took the bus to the doctor, there was so much chaos. There was a woman who insisted her
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I was doing a bit of reading last night, in an attempt to fill insomnia time with something that makes it seem less like insomnia and more like productivity or entertainment. The book is one I am almost ashamed to be reading, because its pages are covered with philosophies of giving = getting, and those
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Silence beckons. Silence heals. Silence opens. Silence kills. Speaking seems so easy. Open up the mouth. Vibrate the vocal chords. We do it all the time. We even do it inadvertently and involuntarily at times. Snoring, sighing, yelping with surprise. Speech shouldn’t be difficult for most of us. Those of us who are not abled
Learning To Be Whole 