Category: Writing

There have been times in my life when someone just took me away and suddenly my burdens were less and my hopes increased. Sometimes in small ways and, not infrequently, in wonderful and large ways. My Uncle Sheldon took me away on a camping canoeing trip in my very dark early days of family violence. […]

THIS GUITAR IS NOW SOLD.  BIDDING HAS ENDED. THANKS! PS Bidding is now up to $2,500, hoping to close in the next 10 days or so. PS Martin Guitar serial # 372620  I bought this wonderful instrument brand new with the Martin hardshell case in May 1976. This is the Martin model that has been […]

I am missing in person teaching.  I’ve spent nearly four decades on the road teaching in most of the US.  I miss the open road.  Now I am home all the time with only short trips into town for groceries.  A particular workshop scene plays in me, a refrain of many times in many places. I’ll begin teaching a […]

A hundred years ago, back in the 90’s, a client would call for comfort.  She was a ritual abuse survivor, survived torture as a young child in a cult, and as a result had multiple personalities.   She would call and we’d talk a bit, then she’d say- The little ones, the much younger personalities who didn’t […]

It was in Toronto sometime in the 1990’s.  A refugee committee of several Catholics had brought together both the staff and the refugees who had been tortured for me to lay hands on.  We were in the meeting room of the Toronto Quaker meetinghouse.  It was a large group and we sat in silence a long time as […]

I was born in a time and a place that is gone now.  It was an enclave where the road became dirt and my family owned the land tamed for farming.  All the surrounding land was forest, miles of it.  There were no houses close together and the houses only held family.  I remember some weddings of aunts and […]

I’m standing in line, 6’ apart, outside our food coop.  This store is only allowing 50 people in at a time – when someone comes out, someone else can go in.  The line is moving very slowly.  The woman in from of me is much older.  I can feel she is now in pain for standing so long, her […]