“Sometimes we have to be dismembered to be remembered.”

On this near full moon, I am grateful for dismemberment. Because, it is in those moments when I remember the simplicity and grace of life.  Like, teaching my students how to be kind to each other, or playing the games I once did as a little girl again. Like, being in the quiet of the Aspens alone. Like, giving thanks before I eat and washing the dishes. Like, hearing a friends voice. Like, painting and feeling drying paint crust on my palms. Like, not being afraid today and remembering myself. And, remembering it’s all as it is…perfectly imperfect, or as my sweet friend Christelle would say, “it’s all beautifully fucked up.”



High, high from the summit of the peak,

Whatever way I look, no limit in sight!

No one knows I am sitting here alone.

A solitary moon shines in the cold spring.

Here in the spring–this is not the moon.

The moon is where it always is–in the sky above.

And though I sing this one little song,

In the song there is no Zen.

–Han Shan from the book Cold Mountain.





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