A life without intimacy is a life of survival. One marked by swift movements from one thing to the next, no time to stop and smell the roses, fill our cup to overflowing with the presence of others. Without intimacy …

blank slate [a poem for the New Year]

Every year when December rolls around, I start to engage a set of muscles that I don’t use on a daily basis. Energy anatomy designed to cinch me together when a dozen rubber balls are loose in the room and I’m trying to track them all.

As we enter the final countdown to the U.S. presidential election outcome, it’s no surprise that collective feelings of apprehension and exhaustion fill the air. Elevated levels of upset, angst and uncertainty running parallel to the current of everyday life.