Under the Banyan Tree

Thank goodness Thanksgiving is over! There, I said it. Because I’m simply not a fan. I don’t like pecan pie or green bean casserole or yams simmering under melted marshmallows. And now that another Turkey day is in the books, I can focus on what I’m truly grateful for. It sounds strange, I know, like some sort of retroactive gratitude. But who doesn’t notice more clearly the abundance in their lives after a break from professional responsibilities?  Slowing down allows us to reconnect with the people and experiences we truly appreciate, the moments that have contributed to our positive outlook or our life view or our straight up happiness. So here’s my gratitude confession: I love my family, my friends, my students (though, let’s be real, some individuals have been challenging), and I love the water. I’m fascinated by the ocean, find energy and strength walking on the beach in the Bahamas mesmerized by the bluest water I’ve ever seen, and feel peace sitting near the window a...

SPOILER ALERT: This week’s post isn’t all fun and games. But it’s important. I was going to blog about social constructs this week because I’ve been thinking about the ways these constructs guide our behavior and even determine aspects of our identity. But then I thought -- nah, to honor next week's national impetus to be grateful (and to eat more than anyone thinks they can), I'll blog about pain. Which sounds odd, I know. But I can’t write about pain on the actual day of Thanksgiving, so here goes. Part of being human, I think, is coping with occurrences we aren’t truly grateful for. Or that we’d prefer to live without entirely. Like words that harm and actions that haunt; like diseases that threaten to destroy our bodies; like the deaths of people we love; like things that just plain suck. So why, to borrow a cliche that feels more like a valid question than an actual cliche, do bad things happen to good people? The short answer (from a laywoman who enjoys occa...

I'm not advocating procrastination here, but I do believe that sometimes taking a respite from  "serious" adult responsibilities, like work or grocery shopping or mowing the lawn after the kids forgot to or simply refused, makes us better people. Sometimes we just need to roll up our sleeves and play. When I was 19, I grabbed every opportunity to go dancing with my girlfriends on the weekends. I worked in an office during school breaks and took eighteen units during the semester, though I didn't always attend class (for reasons unrelated to dancing), and always enjoyed, sometimes even more than discussing Pascale or Voltaire, bustin' a move. Which I didn't do well but did do often. One night over Christmas break of my sophomore year, my mother told me, when my girlfriend picked me up in black boots that indicated dancing was the preferred evening activity, I would someday be a thirty six year old mother of three telling her husband to babysit for the...

I love receiving packages, especially unexpected ones (which generally means I just forgot about having ordered something). Last week I got a book in the mail. A good, old fashioned book in the good, old fashioned mail. A rectangular cardboard box with my name in Courier type on the addressee label. A surprise on top of the sycamore leaves at my doorstep. I placed the box on the kitchen island and sliced through the tape with the knife I most commonly use for vegetables, not knowing this book would be as healthy for me as grated carrots or steamed broccoli. I hadn't remembered ordering a book and certainly not one that would cause me to think this much. Call it my subconscious understanding what I needed or simply my immediate, and ostensibly insignificant, response to yet another invitation to peruse a possible creative writing textbook, but something knew I would find this book inspiring. The book is a collection of essays by acclaimed writers reflecting on lines from...