As a writer, I know, stories are status. Really, there are no “important” writers, only important stories. The question is: which stories do readers and writers give status to? Stories are everywhere. Writers’ capture them. But what if we’ve been capturing all the wrong ones? The social world is created…

Death is the most democratic process humans have and we’ve taken death to a planetary scale. At this pace, who will be left to preform the burials? Should we try to wake each other up? The news is on, full volume, unapologetically blasting planetary warnings and nothing changes. The poets words are a swallows’ skull sunk in forest detritus, a dream, not a wake up call. When there is an erasure of all the dots on the page,

I’m writing to save my life. To my cells who are confused, who can’t synthesize the carcinogens in my hand cream, night cream, day cream. I’m writing to save my life. To my cells who are abnormal, who don’t recall what normal looks like, tastes like, feels like. I’m writing to save my life. To my cells who mis-identify the micro-dots of plastic in my blood, who can’t recall that making credit cards

In Hemingway’s “A Movable Feast” he says, “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you’ve ever known.” It’s why I’m so afraid of death; I could die before I put the final dot, on the truest sentence of my life.

A rationalist will try to hook the dot in the net of his minds’ eye. An empiricist will try to hook the dot with the bait of his senses. Only a Taoist, with a straightened fishing hook, will be able to touch the dots’ essential nature.

Yesterday, standing with my husband underneath an old tree dripping with apples, “I felt at once small — a single speck of sand in humanities evolving story — and yet inextricably connected to a magnificent, unfolding narrative larger than my one life.” I started thinking about the family, many generations…

How the Opioid Epidemic is Affecting Small Business — The manager walked out of the front door of her restaurant in her floral sundress, yelling. Once outside, her body language screamed ‘get out of my restaurant.’ I couldn’t hear what she said because the door slammed shut behind her. She came back inside, and said to her all-female workforce…

I imagine when God looks down on us from heaven, all he sees are dots of equal measure. None of us higher or lower than the other.

Fear Fear is never making the leap from one dot to the next. A Grudge Holding a grudge against another is to transform a simple dot into a black hole. Anxiety If you often feel anxious, it’s likely your striving for ALL the dots on the page, instead of just focusing on one. Depression If you often feel depressed, perhaps you’ve surrounded yourself with all the wrong dots.