Essayist. Lover of food and champagne. Seeker of love, survivor of heartache, and a fledgling believer that everything really does work out in the end.
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like for soldiers who return to the battlefield after the war. What they feel as they survey these great spaces of meaning — now empty fields and beaches, existing on as though nothing ever happened. The waves crash. The grass grows. The world turns forward.
I think a lot upside down. Ever since I started yoga, my morning routine consists of phrases like vinyasa, root to rise, pigeon pose (which, fuck you, by the way), namaste, and downward-facing dog. I used to think down dog was difficult (which, in the beginning, it is — don’
It’s raining in the A— And yet life is happening at 10:30 this morning. The steady flow of traffic Atlanteans are so used to hasn’t failed us this Saturday. The cold front has brought cool, misty air with it. One of winter’s last kisses. Like a
Have you ever heard of Orpheus? In the Greek myths, Orpheus was a beautiful musician who was deeply in love. One day his beloved was bitten by a snake and tragically died. Her spirit was whisked to the underworld, the place where all mortals go when their life on Earth
Today is the Lunar New Year— or maybe Chinese New Year. I don’t really know the differences, other than they are not the same, though they coincide. I didn’t know much about it at all until my very knowledgeable and worldly friend Thib invited me to dinner tonight.
Why is it that love makes us so dumb? It’s like in cartoons where the baby crawls out the window, miraculously onto the beam, and almost falls into the cement mixer. Fortunately for them, there’s this other character scrambling to turn the beam, often at their own peril,
Airports bring me hope. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s Hugh Grant’s voice in Love Actually, floating through my mind like some omniscient narrator, as I walk through the terminal. Maybe it’s the adventure. The excitement of the world before you. Maybe it’s the promise
Sometimes I wonder about these monks. You know, the kind who sit and meditate with their hands on their knees in “okay” gestures. I’ve recently taken up yoga — which explains the monkish wonderings. I read somewhere online that it’s important to get your body moving for at least
There are moments where I pause and just think to myself: I— suck. I’m sure everyone feels like this at one beat or another. It’s this damn heart of mine. I feel like it lingers more than other people’s do. I’m not sure why that is.
It’s chilly in the A tonight. Not horrible—we’ve had ice storms and snow and all types of unprecedented weather this year for our southern belle. But even so, the air is cool and crisp, a stern reminder that it’s still winter here in the South. I
I’m not very good at introductions. I get flustered and feel that flutter in my hands—you know the one? That one that turns into trembling. Your body shaking off escaping nervous energy. Small talk feels like digging into my soul. The way your hands claw the sand on