Good morning, Pat!* Thank you for your email, seeking to hire me as an editor for your poems. By now, you’ve received my reply, where I explained that I don’t provide editorial services, only “creative companioning.”…
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My habit in large waiting rooms is to walk. I’m always surprised by how far I can go while not going anywhere, just pacing or doing circuits, waiting my turn. I’m surprised, too, by how…
Geoff stands on our snow-covered side stoop, bundled against the single-digit cold. Grinning through his frosty white beard, he delivers me a gift on behalf of his wife, Sue: a big, warm pair of mittens,…
A Rafter asked me to muse on the topic of shame and self-forgiveness. This poem is what emerged. Thank you, anonymous friend, for the prompt! THE SCAR’S APPEAL Phyllis Cole-Dai Look at me: I’m what…
It’s a cold morning here in South Dakota. We’re expecting snow this afternoon, just enough to cover the ground in white-Christmas fashion. Here in our living room, the Christmas tree is lit. The hearth has…
This morning I delivered Jihong to the Sioux Falls airport, an hour south of us, for the first leg of an overseas business trip.
As he’d prepared to leave home, a strange sequence of problems bedeviled our household appliances:
My laptop died.
Our coffeemaker died.
Our hot water heater died.
Our gas fireplace died.
On September 4, Jihong and I delivered Nathan to college for his sophomore year. An hour after we unloaded his stuff at the dorm, Nathan auditioned on his cello for a seat in the symphonic orchestra, a premier touring group comprised of highly skilled student-musicians, most of them majoring in music.
Eden is nine years old. Her family lives across the street from Annette Langlois Grunseth, a dear friend of mine who, in her seventies, is a beautiful ball of energy.
Eden and Annette have turned into a dynamic duo. You see, Eden, a fourth grader, wants to be a writer someday. And Annette just happens to be an award-winning author and poet.
In the July 10 edition of Staying Power, I told you about “Humanity Present,” an opportunity for shared, silent gazing that I intend to offer in a public setting, here where I reside. Planning for…
This is a follow-up to last week’s musing, titled “Would You Sit in the Chair?” In case you missed that, or it’s fuzzy in your memory, let me quickly recap: I intend to find a public…
Wending your way through an art museum, you come to a gallery with two wooden chairs in the center. A small table separates them. White tape on the floor delimits a large square around the…
Recently I was in a “creative companioning” session with a woman I’ll call Suzanne. Companioning is a paid service I provide, helping individuals explore and catalyze their creative life. As a client identifies his or…
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