Salt

Worry evaporates like rain from sand
in the warm wind.

Granules of self begin to
reconstruct into a solid shape;
Suddenly I have toes
and a torso,
ears, and a nose.

The sound of the ocean transmutes
the agony of self-analysis.
It turns remnants of fear into salt,
the life-giving brine that birthed the world.

I picture my grandmother squeezing a pinch of that salt
from a tiny porcelain dish on her kitchen counter
and flicking it over her left shoulder,
asking god for protection.

The crystals hover in mid-air,
glinting in the morning light
before tumbling joyously onto the tile floor.

That which ails us
also cures us.

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Spare Change

His words came out strung together like they were separated by dashes instead of spaces. Spare-any-change-thank-you. Spare-any-change-thank-you. Spare-any-change-thank-you.

It took me a block’s walk to decipher what he was saying. The hurried rhythm of his chant tap-danced in my ears as I turned the corner toward Pioneer Square in downtown Portland.

A young man in a tan leather jacket leaned against the black iron gate of the Pioneer Courthouse and casually thumbed through his phone. A few feet away, a woman wearing an oversized pink sweatshirt rummaged through a shiny, silver garbage can.

Was it the moodiness of a gray, winter day luring me to further analyze, or were the man’s words about more than just pocket money? Instead of asking for coins, what if he were asking for real change? As in: Can you spare to make a change? Thank you.

Three blocks later, while waiting for the crosswalk to turn, a man sitting in a wheelchair suddenly burst into song.

“I’m so tired of this world, I feel like I could bust!” he crooned to a surprisingly cheerful melody. His weathered, tan skin stood out beneath a white baseball cap.

We made eye contact and his lips parted into a sheepish smile; a beige, unlit cigarette hung from his bottom lip. It was like a confession, and I was his witness. I returned his smile, and then crossed the street, feeling both humbled by this tiny moment of connection and weighed down by my own sadness about the way things are.

And so on my bus ride home, I wondered what it would take to shift our culture of  individualism to one that truly cared about the well-being of the collective. As long as we keep failing to recognize how simply another’s position could have been ours, we deny our shared vulnerability in an uncertain world. (A flurry of bad luck and our lot could be quite different.)

Maybe things will change in 2019, maybe they won’t; but today I was reminded how a simple walk through the city can prompt us to consider whether or not we can, collectively, spare any change.

The Fruitful Search

Sleeves up ladies and gents, time to summon your bravest face, your unabashed belief that love still makes the world go round, and tie on your best walking shoes to keep. moving. forward. Congratulations, you’re on the fruitful search. The search for love; for meaning; for purpose. It’s going to feel like it’s “less”, not “full” sometimes.  There’s going to be bullshit and heartache and confusion. But there will also be grace, connection, and growth sitting patiently just waiting to be found.

You don’t have to do anything special for this to be true. You just have to be you.


The more I grasp, the less I can touch what’s real. The more I give thanks for, the more I can soothe what’s scared and the clearer I see what is. It’s funny how that works. This year, my 29th, has been a test of faith. Has yours been too? Well, join the club!

I’ve gotten tripped up, fallen down, made moves, revisited old wounds, learned to bounce back (again, and again, and again) each time, feeling a little closer to where I’m aiming to go.

The truth is, as long as you’re reading this and are breathing and alive and waking up each day, there are thousands of things that have gone right – way more than could have possibly gone wrong. Which brings me to the title of this little post. What I’ve learned in the past few months that I want to share with you is:

The search is always fruitful if you look at it through the lens of gratitude.

So much gained; so much that is good, right here, right now if you look closely.

Yes, losses too. But experiences are the fruit of all that hard work. And no one ever promised they’d all be peachy.

So, have you known grief? Have you ever fallen to your knees in reverence? Did you fall in love with the wrong one? Have you been moved to leap? Have you been called to listen? It’s all moving you forward, dear-heart; all the heartbreaking, joyous, enlivening, confusing, sweet, tender moments of life. THIS life. The only life you have to live!

Might as well dig in, dig out, dig deeper, or my personal favorite, just DIG IT!

cactus