Literary Arts

Yoga tape today played fast-forward, then upward- downward-- pen in child’s pose. Weeds through cobblestones pulled and piled, blown apart-- roots stay in the ground. Dishes in the sink are now scrubbed clean and...

In 2009 I traveled near South Korea's Demilitarized Zone to visit and write an article about the then 79 year old shaman Kim Keum Hwa. During my second visit, she surprised me by asking me to get up and dance. After, and for the duration of the day, she and several of her disciples encouraged me to pursue a path as a shaman.

When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.

Time to bathe al fresco watched by frosty stars and a crescent moon. I twist quickly for warmth beneath needle-like strands of hot water dispensed by an ancient showerhead, its shadow stretched...

In the end, you have no suitcase. The ticket is one-way only, very expensive, caro, precious. You arrive on the side of a hill which has dared to assert...