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Okay, I've been doing a little ruin-minating (...I know), and I'm ready to share some thoughts about all the ruins I saw on my (now slightly less) recent trip to Palestine and Israel. It's strange that this section seems to be giving me the most difficulty. Part of my trouble comes, I think, from simply not feeling as though there was enough time anywhere to really delve into the historical narratives. I was really looking forward to the archeological sites on our itinerary - and each one was breathtaking in its own way. There's also the striking difference between the slightly mythical nature of the religious sites juxtaposed against the clear, visible proof of historical events that the ruins provide. There's a sort of dizzying quality to the experience of walking through rubble that once made up a town thousands of years ago. I had the same sensation in Rome when I happened to look down a side street in time to catch a glimpse of the Colosseum - just casua

I've been putting off the process of sitting down to write about my recent trip to Palestine/Israel, and I'm not entirely sure why. I'm a procrastinator by nature, but this feels like something different. I feel a strong inclination to do the piece, yet I find myself holding off. Other tasks are given priority as justification for not diving in and putting words to my feelings. Maybe I've just needed longer to find those words this time around. It's interesting - I realized the other day that the last time I traveled to another country with part of a church-related group was when I was in the 8th grade. My father and I went to Guatemala - and what's interesting is that trip was also in February. And it also left me struggling with the task of trying to live my regular life in a world that had been unexpectedly changed forever in my heart and mind. Sometimes we experience things and don't realize the profound ways in which we've been changed until muc

I'm not referencing my score on a coolness scale. I'm talking about the Enneagram. If you haven't heard of it, we must not know each other very well. Because I talk about it with some frequency. But you can check out this link for starters and get caught up: https://www.enneagraminstitute.com . You're welcome. So, as I was saying, I'm a four. There are nine personality types and they all have names, naturally. Wanna take a guess at what the fours are named? The Artist. Man...eerie, right? Okay, so if you look at the link you'll see that Type Four is called The Individualist. And if you Googled it on your own, you might have seen that it's called The Romantic. I should have mentioned that there a bunch of different names depending on which site you visit. But the qualities are mostly the same. And I would argue that I'm as much an individualist and a romantic as I am an artist. So it works. I just didn't want anyone thinking I hadn't vett

I keep thinking about dementors. If you haven't read Harry Potter (or at least watched the movies - although that's less "superfan" of you), then this blog entry might not resonate. In any case, I'll lay out a few details to start. The dementors show up in the third book, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkeban. They're creepy, cloak-wearing phantoms that float around with no eyes sucking up all the intelligence, happiness and good memories of humans. They make their surroundings cold and dark with the effect intensifying depending on how many there are in one place. Rowling has said they grow like funghi in dark, moist places. She also notes that she created them while struggling with her own clinical depression. The worst effect of their power is called a "kiss," and involves them literally sucking the victim's soul out through his or her mouth. The victim is left with no memories or feelings in a vegetative condition. The only measure of d

Wow. It has been two years - almost - since I published anything on this blog. Two years. That is...it's left me speechless. I thought for sure I hadn't been that neglectful of this thing that I love doing: writing. But I have been. In many ways that count, I have been. So I'm here tonight. No TV. No music playing. Just a breeze coming through my open window and the dulcet sounds of Jack, my adorably fat cat, who is acting as though waiting another five minutes for dinner is the worst of all humiliations and sufferings any being has ever had the misfortune to endure. I am here, and I'm going to add an entry tonight. But I am not writing it tonight. I wrote it ages ago - a year maybe - and I thought I'd already put it here. Since we already covered that this is a false memory - which I'm prone to - I will add it now. I wrote this piece for a newsletter while working for my dad's church last year. I should have fed two birds with one seed (I'm a pacifi

I am a firm believer that massage should not be seen only as a luxury experience. It should be seen as a necessary part of mind-body-soul care. Anyone who's been searching for a way to justify the expense, please read on. I'm hoping to give you all the support you need.  The other night I celebrated my sister's 30th birthday by getting myself a 90 minute massage. I know. I give the best presents. In my defense, I bought a massage coupon to give to my sister as well. And she wasn't in town at the time, so it's not like I ditched her to get pampered.  I should also add that I didn't spend the 90 minutes in a luxury spa-like setting. I went for this massage because I needed help getting rid of a number of pain issues and the massage therapist I go to knows her stuff.  I stumbled on Emily and her signature Dream State Massage style at the beginning of this year. She was offering a new client coupon and the description of her signature style was too good to pas