Someone once asked me about the process I use to write. I responded with, “I write in an altered state of mind.” Of course, the next...

There is a spot of earth nearby that smells of herbs and honey. It is expansive in places but contracts into secrecy at its edges, where...

The stories we tell are delivered in conversation without much thought or reflection. Our most prominent memories and well-known tales...

What stays with me are those first fingertips, so gentle and healing, that connect us.

Here, I am in harmony with nature from which I stem and with the spirit of the towering cathedral that is the forest.

We will lean close to the stone and conspire together, creating fancy and whimsy unimaginable in youth.

He pauses. She falters. Both fall through the edges of sleep and tumble, bemused, into the corners of an imaginal realm...

So here I sit. Well fed, well clothed, well sheltered. Night clings to the windows with a slippery grasp and begins to slide toward the day.

There is always a choice in the realm of the present moment, in which all yesterdays and all tomorrows explode together. ...Read more

There was a time when I was welcomed into private residences, riverboats, political offices, hospitals, monasteries... Read more

That snowflake against her cheek almost sizzles, though she experiences it as an idea rather than a touch. ...Read more

Your stories, the ones you believe and tell, start with what your senses absorb from your surroundings and the situations... Read more

Dream carefully, then, and only when you truly want to hold me close