There is a sentence we offer each other the way we offer a tissue at a funeral: Time heals all wounds. It sounds kind. It sounds wise. It sounds like something carved into a soft-focus Hallmark plaque with a bird and a branch and a reassuring serif font. It is
There is a peculiar ritual in American politics that repeats itself with the reliability of a bad flu season. A demagogue reveals exactly who he is. He says it out loud. He does it in public. He builds a movement around it. And then—when the consequences become too ugly
Let’s just start there. Clear the table. Confess early. Yes. I am a hypocrite. A card-carrying member of the human race who has strong opinions about how people should behave in a crisis and then, under enough stress, occasionally does the exact opposite. There are two things that absolutely
All right. Fangs out. No anesthesia. No polite language. No comforting metaphors. This is scorched-earth! Let’s stop lying to ourselves. Let’s stop using therapy words and civility words and “both sides” words to describe something that is, at its core, very old and very ugly. What is happening
Dear friends, I wrote this (below) before ICE killed another citizen exercising their Constitutional rights. Times are bad, really BAD. I’m trying to manage my mental health..it feels like doomsday, perhaps you share those feelings. Every so often, a year starts to glow in the collective imagination. People
This weekend, I am slowing down on purpose. Not in the dramatic, Instagram-worthy way with linen robes and artisanal cucumbers flown in from a mountaintop. Just in the radical, slightly rebellious way of deciding that my nervous system deserves a break and my house can become a sanctuary instead of
I have made a very important, very luxurious, very responsible decision. This weekend, I am going to the spa. I am not going anywhere. (bad weather predicted, stay safe!) No reservations. No driving. No overpriced cucumber water. No trying to whisper while other people very clearly are not. Instead, I
During the holidays, a neighbor stopped by to exchange some food. You know the ritual: she brings something in a disposable container, we give her something in a disposable container, and thus the ancient suburban treaty is renewed for another year. She had never been in my house before. We
One Year In: The Damage Report It has been one year since America reinstalled Donald J. Trump like a corrupted operating system nobody bothered to patch. One year since we decided, as a nation, to click “Remind me later” on the warning that said: This update may permanently damage your
By mid-January, the shouting has started again. Everywhere you look, something is telling you to fix yourself. Optimize yourself. Push harder. Do more. Be better. Be faster. Be less… whatever you apparently were last year. It’s presented as motivation. But much of it feels like something else: pressure disguised
My newsletter today is a potpourri of scrolling on Instagram: Mood - scary stuff in our country, NFL and tomorrow‘s college football playoff. #iykuk GO IU! FUCK ICE! Humor to keep me from mental health meds..but who knows what the future brings. No judgement! Be safe! FIND some
Saw this story on Facebook and it fascinated me...sharing: For four years, a woman sat at a desk while Nazis stole 20,000 works of art. They thought she was furniture. Paris, October 1940. The Nazis had just taken over the Jeu de Paume museum and turned it into