As a little girl I loved to examine the exquisite bottles on Grandma’s dresser. She would open one and let me smell its sweet perfume, or wipe a bit of its lotion on my arm. I remember smelling lilacs out of season, and rich aromas that couldn’t be named—except in the creativity of Avon, which made most of them. One perfume bottle was particularly intriguing: a delicate glass snail, with gilded head and antennae, filled with a luxuriant amber liquid. I picked it up one day and twisted that head away so that I could breathe in its aroma. Grandma turned just then and startled me with her … [Read more...] about Breaking the Alabaster Jar
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Excruciating Intimacy
Who has touched you today? It’s a question, for me, usually answered with a very short list, if actual physical touch is in view. My list expanded this week as I participated, as a staff member at the prison, in a yearly training aimed at enhancing our safety. We practiced techniques to fend off an attack, and to end an altercation. There’s an intimacy to this, with a lot of touch—much of it harsh—as we repeat defensive and directive moves, always with a partner. We get up close and personal with fellow staff members, female and male, in ways that don’t happen even with close friends. … [Read more...] about Excruciating Intimacy
Under Construction
When I traveled to Washington DC recently, the expected grandeur of the U.S. Capitol building was marred. Scaffolding shrouded the dome, and plastic sheeting covered portions of the façade. A companion expressed her disappointment. “So much for the photo op.” I was superbly glad for this glimpse of this symbol of our nation. In the preceding days I had come face to face with injustices being committed in my name (and yours) through the enforcement powers invested in our government: The over-incarceration of our fellow human beings, at rates that far exceed most countries. Mandatory … [Read more...] about Under Construction
Farmer wave
I grew up with the farmer wave. It’s what you do when you cross paths with someone on a gravel road. It’s the barest flick of a finger or two. An acknowledgment. “I see you.” Out in the world, no one waves. Traveling to Washington DC last week, I was reminded of the hiddenness we share when we are many. In our profusion, each is a stranger. Why notice one another? Walk as if you’re alone, eyes down—and even better if your earbuds show. Ooze self-sufficiency, disconnectedness, disinterest. My country neighbors are no less self-reliant. Their outsized trucks won’t be cowed by any storm. … [Read more...] about Farmer wave