cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Passion and Joy. Both are tricky words for me. I’m perhaps beginning to turn the corner on joy. I grew up in a family that claimed to be joyful but hid secrets of sexual trauma, addiction, and abuse. We were a happy, faith-filled family—or so I was told. There were good times, but they were…
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Beneath the noise and confusion, there is a deep inner knowing. This is the voice of truth—the wise one within, always calling us back home to ourselves. There is safety under the shelter of the wise one’s expansive wings. She is an angel of light who is always available to comfort and guide us if…
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A few months into our relationship, my high school boyfriend started calling me, “Mallorina, my Queena.” As a 16-year-old, I’m not sure there was a nickname more flattering than this one. Actually, 38-year-old Mallory really wouldn’t mind answering to it, either. It was young love, but I knew my boyfriend adored me and went out…
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As I awoke from surgery, I was keenly aware that I did not have the dreamy, light, euphoric feeling I had coming out of anesthesia ten years earlier. This was different. It felt more like a backhoe had gutted a hole in my core—gut and bowels included. Any movement at all would shift what felt…
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Flakes of falling snow sprinkle the greens and browns of the trees in the canyon, like flour sifted onto a chocolate cake. I gently inhale warm air, exhaling a silent prayer of gratitude. Drawn by the alluring glow of a myriad of miniature white lights, I turn to gaze upon a ten-foot Christmas tree. Simple,…
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A little over a month ago, at a modest cabin near a gurgling creek, I spent a weekend with a mishmash of friends. It’s the second year we’ve gathered in this humble wonderland where we cook and play games, talk late around the fire, and make ourselves tired on sunshine and laughter.
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I place a hand on my heart and a hand on my belly. I take a deep breath in and say, “How can I best nurture and honor and serve you today?”
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I am done proving me. My life is not one prolonged job interview, a permanent Olympic trial, an ongoing all-state music audition. I am not a college application for admissions officials to peruse, an employee scrutinized for business acumen or her annual performance review, an associate striving to make partner. I refuse to be
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I learned early the best way to survive was to fly under my mother’s radar. Do what I was told, when I was told, exactly as I was told. Her way was/is the only right way. No exceptions. I was an “easy” child. I was a good student, earning good grades and comments from teachers.…
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Months after our wedding, I received an anonymous envelope with a newspaper clipping from the Miss Manners column titled, “Thank-you notes way, way overdue.” While reading the words on the page, my eyes skipped to the underlined portion which read, “They would like to know that you received what they sent you, and that they…
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