Public reflection, unhurried.

The grief is never about what you think it's about. Year one I was angry. Year two relieved. Year three lonely. This year I am finally sad. Not sad about leaving — sad about the version of me who sang every verse withou...

My spiritual director gave me When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön fifteen years ago, when I was forty. I was appalled. I'd been reading the Desert Fathers since college. I did not need, I thought, the Buddhist versio...

A Quaker meeting, first time. I am told: sit in silence. If someone is moved to speak, they speak. Otherwise silence. Forty-five minutes. Three people spoke, briefly. I have spent four years in meditation halls. I have...