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Beginner's Heart
saving the world
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I can’t save the world. And it makes me crazy. I can’t even save individual people. Or cats & dogs. And that makes me crazy, too. Because I’m a fixer, by nature. It’s what I do: I try to fix broken things. Now, that doesn’t mean people are broken — that’s not what I’m saying. But sometimes…
a happily full-isa calendar, and a thank-you to Jimmy Carter
By
Britton Gildersleeve
My calendar for the next few months is filling up quickly. And while usually that makes me feel overwhelmed (and I confess to moments of that still!), my upcoming events are all about the ‘rocks’ in my jar. You know, those values that are more important than anything? In my case, family, writing, service. I’m…
temper temper
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I don’t have a terrible temper. I can take quite a bit of hassle, as long as it’s just about me. No one will agree w/ you all the time, nor will everyone like you. So it’s silly to get put out when those things happen — disagreements & people not liking you. That said, I…
beneath winter
By
Britton Gildersleeve
In winter, much happens out of sight. Magic is uncurling beneath piles of frost-blackened leaves, beneath the glistening canvas of snow. In dormant hives, bees cluster around the queen, warming her w/ their own bodies. And in burrows, sleepy rabbits, foxes, & moles prepare for spring births. I’ve always loved winter. It seems to me…
the art of interdependence
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I love reading my horoscope. I won’t go so far as to say I believe it, but often it really does hit the nail, etc. Spot-on, as a Brit friend of mine would say. Today was one of those days. I’m involved in several non-profit organisations. (When you work cheap — free! — folks ask you…
the heart of the family
By
Britton Gildersleeve
Today my niece, nephew, & my delightfully vocal grand-niece came over. I’d made chowder & skillet cornbread, and my husband had railroad ties to go. It was a good plan: I got to coo over all three ‘kids’! Little makes me as happy as babies and family. And when I have both in one room — my…
the taste of tea, and paying attention
By
Britton Gildersleeve
You can’t drink the ‘best’ tea everyday. Or it becomes the everyday tea. (Not to mention it’s expensive!) But this morning, after a friend sent me the New Yorker excerpt of Paul Kalanithi’s autobiography (My Last Day as a Surgeon), I immersed myself in the process of my ‘everyday’ tea. The fragrance of the steam rising…
the body is a fragile carriage
By
Britton Gildersleeve
Sometimes when I’m cranky (or blue, or irritable, or maudlin…or just out of sorts), I realise: I’m really none of the above. I’m hungry. Or thirsty. Or tired. Or hot. In other words, it’s not a mental/emotional/even spiritual problem. It’s this rag & bone body of mine that’s the issue. When working well, the body…
grief, time, and the saving graces of poetry
By
Britton Gildersleeve
Grief knows no timetable. And it’s a sneaky devil: it will creep up on you in an otherwise nice day, and lay you flat out. You won’t know what hit you. I mean it: formerly rosy days will grey, wilt around the edges, and it may take weeks before you remember…Oh! Mom’s gone. That would…
reflections in a Christmas ornament
By
Britton Gildersleeve
There’s something incredibly poignant about packing away the Christmas tree. Pulling off the ornaments — some so very old & fragile the one I made with my mother when I was 6, the one I made w/ my younger son when he was 6. Wrapping them snugly in their tissue cocoons so they can be ready for…
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