A poem about my potential encounter with my deceased grandmother one Yom Kippur—and fear, doubt, mystery, and the mystical power of the sun.
Elizabeth reflects on the whirlwind experience of a funeral, the challenge of processing an event in the moment, and the things we rely on to keep going
I miss the days when friends and family members truly opened up about their insecurities, failures, and deep thoughts. Yes, you're adults now, but you can still share your souls.
We hunger to love the undiscovered, we long to grow fond of wanting, help us remember what we have forgotten.
Open your mind, and possibilities that once seemed inconceivable emerge. It's a wild, soul-bending adventure.
A call to action, to my fellow educators.
The sacred excavation of helixed antiquity and brand-newness.