notes for the human heart
My apartment smells like fried onions and potatoes. Remnants of the sliced onions and potatoes I made last night, at ten pm, when the craving finally intersected with a hunger intense enough to get over the effort it would take to make them. It was a pleasure, then, to slice the onions and potatoes, and… Continue reading simply
Ten days ago, my birthday came and went in quarantine. I am still recovering from it. It was like a wormhole, connecting me to a hundred memories and feelings related, specifically, to that day - to people and places that were and are gone - or gone to me. In the days surrounding my birthday,… Continue reading memory
The last couple of days have been stretched out blue. The kind of blue that lets white through, so that everything has a sort of sheen. My kitchen is a mess. The kind of mess that you avoid. I know there are a lot of you, dear Human Hearts, who know how to walk around… Continue reading the blue evaporates
I am thinking about solitude, today. Specifically, about the solitude that's been forced on many out there in the world who live alone. And less specifically about the solitude of those who have been forced to shelter in place without much solitude at all. A few weeks ago, at the beginning of March, when governors… Continue reading solitude & loneliness
If it weren't for Maurice's clockwork A.M. call-to-nature, we both may have slept our last sleep, so to speak. I woke this morning to slowly being poisoned by gas. Walking into my kitchen, immediately I smelled it, and I said out loud, "Is that gas?" while thinking, simultaneously, "no, no, it can't be." My stove… Continue reading open your windows
Love from far away I can't imagine, can you? Getting up every morning and going to work at a hospital - or clinic - or morgue. I can't imagine, can you? Having no healthcare or rent or family or food - to have no choice of safety at all. I can't imagine, can you? Leaving… Continue reading Love from far away
I keep coming back to the thought, "We cannot lose ourselves during this." And, of course, I'm thinking of the pandemic. But I'm also thinking of where I was before our lives were interrupted. Seventeen months ago, I lost my mother to a long illness. Not long after, I committed myself to a psychiatric hospital… Continue reading the human heart has not changed
When I began these notes to you, Dear Human Heart, it was my intent to write something everyday. I'm finding, though, that anxiety has crept in, and I've found myself circling this space, holding my breath. Anxiety feels as if it's everywhere, because it is. So many are concerned for their health - for the… Continue reading solitude within a pandemic
On the street adjacent to mine are two northern mockingbirds. I assume they're an item, but they haven't officially let me in on their business. Each morning, when I walk my dog, one of them flies from their nest and perches itself on the highest branch of a young linden tree. "Look at me," it… Continue reading we are where the birds are
The title of this blog comes from a poem written by Jane Kenyon. I can't recall when I first encountered the poem, but the first stanza often pulls me back to it - There’s just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at… Continue reading Happiness in the time of Coronavirus
No Accounting for Happiness 