Category: Hope

Holidays for the Aching

I’m still waiting for a holiday to roll around that doesn’t make my heart ache. I thought it might be this one but I woke up this morning to that old familiar ache, the one that makes me want to pull the covered over my head and only emerge when the holiday is over, the kind of ache that feels like searching, yearning, for what was and will never be again.
I miss the shared language of my Beloveds and the way they anchored me to this world, shaping who I am.

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Toulouse Lautrec

But what did I love so much about Toulouse-Lautrec? What drew me to his story, his art, besides the fact that I knew if I were alive back then, we would have been friends. (I never longed to be one of the “society girls” parading about in stiff silk skirts and spending my days swanning about, dressing for meals. No. I would have run away to the Moulin Rouge and spent my days practicing my high kicks in frilly knickers.)

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Tragedy Jukebox

At any given moment, my brain is a tragedy jukebox, saying, “Hmmmm, which tragic moment shall we replay in elaborate detail for Marci right now?” Heart-shattering memories slice into my daily life with wild abandon, as I am forced to relive overwhelming loss. So I

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Looking for Miracles: On the Road with the Movie

It was quiet, with only the sound of the river. I have spent my life looking for miracles, so when Sharon and I were driving down the desert highway in New Mexico, with cell service long gone and our only entertainment the gallivanting tumbleweeds crossing

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Two Dresses and a Spinning Wheel

I spent this morning going through my closet, looking for two dresses: one to wear to a wedding and one to wear to a funeral. Sigh. This grand pageant of life can feel less than grand sometimes. I have a whole team of people I

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Pumpkins

Today I finally understood why Cinderella was transported into a magical realm by a pumpkin. I can’t believe these big round orange magical things grow from tiny seeds into sprawling vines and then sprout these incredible fairy tale globes, the very essence of growth and

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The Unhealable Wound

It looked like she was some sort of goddess scattering starlight made of love-bursts right out of her body to wrap around mine. I think she would like that I am not running from my pain. but absorbing and integrating it into my soul, allowing it to change me moment-to-moment, and knowing that time and space can not separate me from her. I think she would encourage me to keep spinning my stories and assure me that they are indeed, spinning into gold. I think she would like that I have found healing in my Unhealable Wound.

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Marci Darling’s research on Nita & Zita is published