This past month I have been in Ireland. By myself. On the middle Aran Island, Inishmaan. I had heard the Aran Islands are a bit mystical, a bit otherworldly, a bit steeped in the Old Ways where Irish is the primary language. I was longing for time away. Time to process grief. Time to myself. Inishmann was all of that. And more. This small island is rocky. Miles and miles of rock walls from one seaside to the other. There is one general store. One pub. It was off season so even the pub wasn't...

I've always had a thing about laundry lines. There is something so universal about them. Human. Clothes hanging out in the sun to dry. From refugee camps in Beirut to back yards of the homes in Dublin, there are always laundry lines reminding us how much we have in common. I love that now during this time of grief, folding laundry is a thing that is grounding. Laughable! And true. Grief is a strange journey. We don't have many road maps in our culture. Many prefer to not look at it, talk...

Such a year it has been. Living in the limbo of day to day with my husband's terminal illness. Living with the Mystery and deep gratitude for a death so much like a birth. My midwife heart sees the continuity now between life and death with new profound awe. Living with the day to day strangeness of grief. Going through the first holidays? Everyone warned me they are tricky, tender, emotional, unnerving. Yup. All of that. Add to that my internet went out. My credit card was compromised and I...