Mindfulness, Heartfulness


When we choose to be present to our loss–to sit in the emptiness, the mystery, the sorrow and the rage–as a way to honor our loved one who has died, we are offering the fullness of our hearts.

Showing Up


And in the process of surrendering to the transformative fire of loss, we are made new.

Grief Pendulum


The bereaved are still among my favorite people to hang out with. Their losses seem to strip them of much of the bullshit that characterizes the human predicament, leaving them with a fierce authenticity and a wicked sense of humor.

CHANGING


I want to let it do whatever it’s supposed to do: fall away, maybe; or turn into something else.

Your Love for Me


On this last day of summer, one month before your yahrtzeit, I grieve you as if the accident was yesterday. I am astonished (again, and yet again) by the power of grief. I had almost forgotten. Maybe it’s because this morning the cloth slipped off the file box where I keep your papers and I More…

Balancing Service with Self-Care


Four deaths in as many weeks. First a dear family friend recently diagnosed with late-stage cancer embraced her dying, reluctantly at first, then with astounding grace, surrounded by a tribe of remarkable women singing, soothing, feeding, and finally praying her across the threshold. Then my best friend (in the midst of tending our mutual friend More…

Look Who Thinks She’s Nobody


A shamus is a guy who takes care of handyman tasks around the temple, and makes sure everything is in working order. A shamus is at the bottom of the pecking order of synagogue functionaries, and there’s a joke about that: A rabbi, to show his humility before God, cries out in the middle of More…

El Encuentro


After my own private encuentro with Mother Mary, I never again felt quite so alone in my loss. I still suffered – I still do – but she shares my pain, and that makes my burden lighter.

Life Is Too Short For Boundaries


When my third book came out in 2005, a new translation of The Book of My Life by St. Teresa of Avila, my agent flew out from New York to New Mexico to celebrate with me.  She joined me on air for radio interviews, helped make arrangements with the venue, introduced me at my reading More…

Magic Carpet


Eventually I began to discover that I had not really had the rug pulled out from under me. Instead, it turned out that my rug was a magic carpet, and Jenny’s death had released the spell and lifted the magic carpet off the ground and out into the unknown.