cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
As I sit down to write this essay, I am wiping the smeared mascara that coats the skin just below my eyelashes. The black smudges cover up the bags underneath my eyes, which reminds me of the layers of exhaustion most of my days have held. My eyes aren’t smudged from crying this time, but…
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“We women in our late 40s need a scapegoat,” my doctor, who is the same age, said, “and hormones are usually a viable option.” I wasn’t prepared to hear my doctor use the term “scapegoat.” That’s a term usually reserved for my psychology and religious circles, where abuse is often the topic. But she knows…
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I can feel myself slowing down as the end of the year approaches. I feel like a ball running out of steam, making its last few rotations before coming full stop. I have one last trip coming up before December waves goodbye. There are bits of tape and scraps of wrapping paper stuck to my…
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Tread water, get pulled under, push to surface, gasp for air, tread water, get pulled under, push to surface, gasp for air. Slowly drowning has become my way of life. There is a rhythm to it, one that is familiar. A pattern that should probably feel scary or dangerous instead feels like home. So even…
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The queen’s calling is to hold the weight of the present as it begs us for a way forward as we navigate life in our beautifully broken world. I write and talk a lot about the archetype of the queen and have come to see her as a part of all of us that is…
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Every day for the last year, I put my hair into a long ponytail and adjust a mask over my face. Never before has such a small piece of cloth meant so much. It’s a daily reminder to me of how life has changed.
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Defeat is not bitter unless you swallow it. —Joe Clark How do you help a friend who never asks for help? Women are incredibly strong and delicately resilient. We move through life like the well worn pages of our favorite chapter in the Bible, coupled with unique wrinkles, markings, and creases. Many of us glide…
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These days, more often than not, I get to the end of a day feeling like the day ran me, not the other way around. The digital clock on my phone clicks to 10:47 pm; I do a double take, and then I throw myself on my bed. Remaining moments tick away as I open…
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Fall comes slowly—the temperature begins to drop ever so slightly, the days feel a bit shorter, and one leaf turning color becomes more leaves turning as the trees begin the process of a slow, beautiful death.
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