Growing up, we took a lot of road trips, and because this was pre-smartphone/iPad/TV-that-drops-down-from-the-roof-of-the-car, I spent a lot of time staring out the window. The other day, as I was crossing one of Portland's many bridges, I took my eyes off the road for a split second to glance at the trees in the West … Continue reading The passenger seat

I have a postcard on my fridge that a friend sent me from France some years ago. On the back, she wrote only this: "Can you believe how very little we still know, about anything?" I look at it every morning. It's the perfect thought to begin the day with. Last week, I pulled out … Continue reading How very little

I am not good at relaxing. While I'm militant about getting eight hours of sleep, I am terrible about allowing myself to rest. Unless I'm on vacation, my hyperactive work ethic insists I am continually thinking, doing, accomplishing—whether that's writing, juggling a broad smattering of freelance projects, or just fixing meals and keeping my apartment … Continue reading Rest

I've been in love with German ever since I learned the word weltschmerz. Its literal translation is "world-pain," the depression that arises when the realities of existence don't line up with the ideals in your head. I talk about this word in the opening chapter of my memoir, how when I discovered it, some gear … Continue reading Home

I live 500 feet above sea level. It's not much, but it's enough that, when it snows, I'm trapped, even if the rest of the city is not. While others may be free to come and go from their homes without fear of careening down a driveway-turned-bobsled-track, I also know, whatever the weather is doing, … Continue reading The latest winter

A number of years ago, I stayed in a monastery high atop the mountains of Big Sur. There was no internet, no cell reception, and no talking allowed anywhere on the grounds, except the bookstore that also served as the check-in area. I showed up late one afternoon, exhausted and bedraggled, with nerves as frayed … Continue reading The art of disappearing

I hate putting things away. When I was a toddler, my mother let me entertain myself by emptying the kitchen cupboard where she stored canned goods. I'd pull everything out onto the floor, crawl inside the cupboard, and lose interest (I'm guessing) in approximately seven seconds. As I walked away, my mom would ask, "Can … Continue reading Contradictions

My co-workers like to joke that I'm the resident witch doctor. If you have an illness, injury, or other physical ailment, I probably have a remedy for you. I may even have it in my purse. But my ability to offer solutions extends beyond bodily care. If you're looking for something, I likely know where … Continue reading On being a mountain goat

A few weeks after my father died, I received a letter from a friend. We wrote back and forth about injustice and pain, and in her last note, she said, "What is this world? If anyone can make beautiful sense out of strangeness and sadness, it's you, but I completely understand if you wouldn't want … Continue reading All the minor chords

I have something I like to call a "crystal ball complex." Whenever a new situation presents itself, I have to stop myself from declaring how it'll likely all turn out. It's not that I believe I can foresee the future. It's that, for some time now, I've been a "worst case scenario" kind of girl. … Continue reading We’re going to drown