I am a long time fan of This American Life. I have had whole conversations (dare I say, friendships) that pivoted on a mutual familiarity of particular TAL episodes. And nothing has come close to This American Life for me in terms of story telling. That is, until now. (more…)
We thought we had it all figured out. After graduation, we’d find super awesome jobs doing… something super awesome, and move into an apartment with a view. Around that time, we’d both meet our own tall, dark, and handsome someone, date for two years, get married, enjoy being newlyweds for another two years, buy a house, and then start popping out babies.
My college roommate and I both drove red Geo Metros, majored in English, and loved going to midnight showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show. So, it seemed entirely possible, indeed likely, that our life paths would lead us on the same fabulous and remarkably predictable path – a path that would take us directly into motherhood at the ripe old age of 26.
Needless to say, that’s not how things unfolded for either of us. (more…)
This home loves books. Trips to the book store are like visiting Oz, or Wonderland, or Narnia, or Never Never Land. We only come home when we miss real stuff like hugs and good things to eat. Deliveries from Amazon (when we know a book is on its way) are like visits from our faery godmother. Oh-so-happy, we might do a little dance.
We have so many books, we don’t have proper shelves for them all. Books become furniture, coasters, or artistic towers lurking in corners. (more…)
I am a wife. It’s still a strange feeling when my husband asks, “Have you met my wife?”
It still feels a little like I’m acting a part in a play. But not like in high school when I was cast as the ingenue. Now, I have a juicy role, one I can really chop down on. I’m Kate of Kate Hall. I’m Beatrice. I’m queen of this stage.
I’m all those things. But I’m also so utterly human. (more…)
It feels funny like an itchy sweater, or too-tight shoes, or brushing your hair in the wrong direction. You try to pinpoint why things don’t feel quite right. And then one day you realize, Ugh, I hate this flippin’ sweater!
It’s like that when you realize you’re not being true to yourself. Not living authentically results in a disconnect between the person we want to be and the person we suddenly realize we are. It’s uncomfortable, disorienting; it makes us want to rip that sweater right off. (more…)
When I taught yoga, it wasn’t unusual for a student to weep on the mat during class. Some people feel uncomfortable with tears. In fact, I often do. But as a yoga teacher I didn’t have the freedom to panic. My job wasn’t to stop teaching, ask them what was wrong, fret about it, or otherwise draw attention to their experience. And it certainly wasn’t my place to take it personally if they were having a strong response to the practice. My job was simply to hold space.
All the tissues I passed, adjustments I made, and hands I held helped prepare me for the colossal job of holding space for my son. However, it took me a while to figure this out. (more…)