Born of the desert.

The desert has a distinct feel, one that makes each pore of your body gasp. I forget, as years pile up between visits, what this feeling is. It takes a couple of days to reacquaint myself with the arid mountains, weathered cacti, and unrelenting heat. But then, amidst misters and tank tops, I once again…

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On the subject of love, legs, and femininity.

Hairy kneecaps. The first time my body became “my body”—a thing separate from me—was at 6thgrade lunch period when Hannah Wiessgarber informed me Paul Ferris would never date me because I had hairy kneecaps. She’d asked him about me, and his answer, given in the presence of the other 7thgrade boys, had been, according to…

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Back to each other.

I grip the steering wheel of the parked car, working up the nerve to cross the lot and enter the bar. The doors of my jetta hold me in. I can stay here forever, till I choose to spill out and into whatever the night holds. Already, the setting sun floods the scene before me,…

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Garden Truths: What a pair of hedge trimmers has to say about life.

There’s an ache to my lower back as I stoop and stretch for the next dead branch with my hedge trimmers. Waste bins and brown recyclable bags checker yards up and down the street.  Interspersed between each bin, neighbors gather dead things, heaving last year’s baggage away so summer can begin again.  Together our bodies…

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Women drawn to the sacred.

When Red Tent Living began, I don’t think any of us knew what awaited us. What we did know back in those early days was that sharing our faith as women felt stifled. There wasn’t an overarching community that welcomed our experiences as women and our experiences of faith. In Red Tenting Living, our hope…

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In Between The Milestones

It’s not often that as a year begins, I can already name the major milestones the coming months will hold. This spring, I will be moving so my landlords can sell their property. Not too long after that, I’ll transition from course work in my graduate degree to writing my graduate thesis. My boyfriend and…

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To My Elders

Four years ago, on a wintery morning, a fierce, truth-telling woman whom I cherish as my elder told me something I have never forgotten: “You can’t know where this story leads. All you can do is look at this moment and do the next right thing.” At the time, we were speaking of a romantic…

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Returning To My Rested Self

You would think apple picking is about the smell, but it’s not. At first, it’s about the feel. The air is always colder than you think out in the orchards. Even with a stocking cap pulled down past my ears and a cozy green flannel zipped up to my neck, a shiver occasionally runs the…

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More Often Than Not.

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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I Don’t Do Needy

I don’t do needy. Which means, I don’t do sick. I don’t do broken bones. And I don’t do hospitals. At least, I didn’t do those things until four months ago. In late March I was bustling around a friend’s kitchen, blending graham crackers and dumping crumbs; all to whip together a graham cracker crust.…

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