Prayer Plant

I live on the second floor of a twelve-story apartment building that has enough morning light to keep my one indoor plant alive—a prayer plant that seems to live in spite of me. It fans its leaves out in the morning and closes them up at night, most likely praying that I will remember to water it.

Read More

Prayer Plant

I live on the second floor of a twelve-story apartment building that has enough morning light to keep my one indoor plant alive—a prayer plant that seems to live in spite of me. It fans its leaves out in the morning and closes them up at night, most likely praying that I will remember to water it.

Read More

Feeding My Heart

It was 1985, I was thirty-five, a new volunteer with RESULTS, an advocacy organization committed to ending hunger and poverty. I jumped in feet first, determined to make a difference, though I knew nothing about poverty, Congress or how a bill was passed. Something I couldn’t name was driving me to be a change agent in the world.

Read More

There Will Always Be Yapping Dogs

In the mornings, I meditate in my bedroom—actually I meditate in my bedroom closet. There is just enough room on the floor between my dresses, blouses, and hiking boots, to roll out my yoga mat, sit cross-legged on my meditation pillow and close my eyes. This morning there was a dog. A real dog outside my window, not a dog in my imagination.

Read More