The symbol in the dream has more the value of a parable. It does not conceal, it teaches. ~ Carl Jung For years, I have heard about the concept of a “visitation dream,” in which the sleeper encounters a known person, often a deceased loved one, in a particularly vivid way during a dream. A Google search of the phrase produces over 700,000 hits. I have never had a visitation dream, and until recently I had no thought of wanting one. To be honest, since I became a parent I sl

Those of you who know me personally know how energized I am by my interactions with other people in any type of situation, professional or personal. I’m constantly being dragged out of a gathering by my children as I try to finish up several dangling conversations. Even when I’m alone, my brain is often humming with thoughts of people I want to check in with. I am a card-carrying “people person.” Funny how a crisis can change how a person functions and what a person needs. S

Perhaps we humans are getting a little closer to the understanding that grief is nonlinear, unpredictable, and unique to each individual person and situation. Witness this article in the New York Times last week. Reading the article I was struck by particular words and phrases (italics mine): …trying to get her grief right …the so-called stages of grief She expected to be able to put it behind her… mask…carefully constructed …exhausted from acting better than she felt… …wonde

First, two true stories. One is about my great-grandmother, my father’s paternal grandmother, who lived with my father and his parents throughout my dad’s childhood. Although she died about eight years before I was born, I know a lot about her through family recollections and documents as well as her own writings. My great-grandparents When she was 9 years old, her father died of peritonitis. Among her siblings she had two sisters with whom she was close; both sisters died

No, it’s likely not what you are thinking. But maybe I’ve gotten your attention. I barely ever cursed when I was young, perhaps largely because my parents never cursed in my presence during my childhood. In fact it’s quite possible my mother has never uttered a curse word in her life. However, some way or other I acquired knowledge of raw language, because the diaries I kept in my early teens are full of it. One memorable entry from eighth grade features two facing pages c

Every December and January, I tack up long strands of clear packing tape (sticky side out) alongside the kitchen windows and entryways and then fill each strand with a vertical row of holiday cards. It spruces things up, since although we’ve lived in this house for ten years we have yet to put up curtains or blinds in the kitchen (oh well). The cards stay up well past the holiday season, and even when I take them down I leave a few special family ones up on the bulletin boar