God as Our Mother
Despite the pictures we got in Sunday School, God is not some old white dude with a giant beard.
Progress Notes
The South American gem grinned when I responded to her beautifully-accented English in Spanish, and spoke again, “Digame si no me entiende. ¿Ok?”
More Diaries of a Traveling Therapist
I stepped forward, asking, “Llamas are the ones that spit, right?”
Charitable Critique
Critique matters because it sharpens our sense of beauty.
Be the Light
If the cost of spreading love is occasionally getting taken advantage of, I’m okay with that.
Blessed Because
I suspect that we sometimes use the language of blessing as a neat way to sidestep the questions those things raise.
Rules of Travel Photography
It was actually kind of a snap decision, I remember, that we would leave our DSLR cameras behind.
Salt, Ash, and Lead: An Artist and His Materials
The most harrowing allusion in the painting is unavoidable—the train tracks.
The Disappearing Barber
Herb has long since retired. Where his barber pole once hung there’s now an upscale Vietnamese joint that does light lunches and dinners.
Heat
It’s too hot to move.
