My husband does karateand plays the guitar. He sits on his chair,a broken recliner,reading his bookon Saturdays,only leavingto read it in the bathor make dinner. He gives big tipsat restaurantsand saves money so he can retire early. He plays the twelve-bar blueswith our kids,calling out the chords,in front of the fire. My husband sets downContinue reading “My Husband”
I want to bea bodhisattva. Bodhisattvasdevote their entire livesto helpingall beingsachieve their ownblissfulpotential,Buddhahood. A bodhisattvais releasedfrom the dungeonsof the spinningwheels of samsara, My samsara is looking forother people to tell me I am okay,or to talk me down,and give me peace,to say how brilliant I amover and over,but even if they try,it’s not enough. IContinue reading “Bodhisattvas”
I went in the classroomto get my student,but they were sharing riddlesthat they had writtenin their paper, word-study booklets.So I stood next to her deskand waited. Eleven desks were evenly spacedthroughout the room.Kids, whose feet could not yetreach the floor, sat in chairs wearing soft, bright masks. The teacher’s examplelit up the Smart board,What hasContinue reading “First Grade 2020”
I love the windowof zoominto the homesof my First grade studentslearning the short e soundand how to count by twos. Some quiet and tidy,parents standingready to help,kids eating blueberry muffins.A girl getting up to dance wildlyto the Days of the Week song Some kids workingwith baby brothers cryingtoddling over to their ipadstouching their screens SoContinue reading “Zoom Teacher”
Brené Brown says,We cultivate love, when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seenand known, and when we honorthe spiritual connectionthat growsfrom that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection. She says,We can only love others as much as we love ourselves. So, I’m going to try to love all of me,to love the lines on my faceand, also, to love my dreamsContinue reading “To Love Myself”
The space suited nurselodged a booger in my brainwith a white, Q, tip. Blow your nose, she had said, but…I hadn’t blown hard (enough).
“Keep your eyes open,” Dogen, a 13th century priest, instructs. “Wash the rice thoroughly, put it in the pot, light the fire, and cook it.”The pot is your head, he says,the water, your lifeblood. Outside the school I stood, a teacher, in my yellow crossing guard vestholding a bright redstop sign You can’t pick him up there, I called to the mom withContinue reading “Zen”
A poem for someone who never broke my heart. Whose quiet presence is always there, like my skin. Someone who takes care, but not of everything, leaving socks on the floor, pouring me a glass of wine. Someone, Who stares at his iPad when I want to talk. Who gets cold eyes when I becomeContinue reading “A Poem for Someone Who Never Broke My Heart”