I am a child; I am standing in the corner of the courtyard; it is dark; I am leaning into the shadow cast by one of two dozen stone columns; my eyes cast upwards; I am watching. I am watching the window above and across the courtyard . . . . . . for whom [read more ...]
What is tourism but a gathering of selves from the dust of time? The pyramids. Uluru. Machu Picchu. Stonehenge. Places of attraction on Planet Earth that draw thousands daily and millions annually . . . for what, if not to awaken memories cast in stone, tune into vibrations of times past, steady modern lives with [read more ...]
There are many homecomings in a human life; and An t-Eilean Sgitheanach, the Isle of Skye, is one such for me. I felt it in my bones when I left the small, sheltered outpost of Ullapool on Scotland’s north-west coast yesterday – and knew I’d make Skye by nightfall. Speed bonnie boat like a bird [read more ...]
Last night I dreamed of an old friend, a dear friend. Here is her Facebook photo – I was there the night it was taken, 30 years ago on an Adelaide stage . . . yes, she was in the habit of performing with her mandolin dressed like that. In my dream, my friend and [read more ...]
There is a quality of person that walks our Earth that can only be properly described as a New Yorker. He – for he is surely a he – is not the brash cab driver of times past, nor the wise crackin’ nanny from Queens (who is surely a she). This ‘he’, this man, stands [read more ...]
It is Christmas 2008. My grandson is six years old and tearing into his gifts, paying no attention to the cards and strewing paper all over the floor. A card flies by and I pick it up. It is from my mother, his great grandmother, and on the front is a picture of Uluru, the [read more ...]
I have learned to pay attention to the crow. I do not pretend to know who she is and what she stands for – or even what she is telling me (being human and somewhat prone to storytelling). What I do know is that crow stands for me. Watches over, me. Speaks to the soul, [read more ...]
This column is dedicated to encounters with the universal creative force some call God; to conversations with a universe that talks in symbols. The Green Heart Story Many, many years ago, soon after my children had both left home, I was completely at a loss as to what to do with my life. We [read more ...]