Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart

Bio

Britton Gildersleeve is a 'third culture kid' not quite grown up yet. She lives in the Midwest, although she didn’t always. She’s a writer and a teacher, the former director of a federal non-profit for teachers who write. Years spent living on the margins - in places with exotic names and food shortages - have left her with a visceral response to folks ‘without,’ and a desire to live her Buddhism in an engaged fashion. She is (still) working on her beginner's heart ~

She believes that if we talk to each other, we can learn to love each other. But she's still learning how. And she believes in tea.

Metta, lovingkindness, & Buddhist ‘prayer’

This is the ‘prayer’ I’m offering each day over my dozen names, during Lent. It’s the first Buddhist prayer I learned, and remains my favourite. Whenever I’m very stressed, this is what I repeat. It  isn’t a prayer in the […]

boxes & wet ink ~

Sometimes, when things really cut deep, I try to compartmentalise. I want to be the oyster: coat pain and irritation w/ something soothing, wall it off. I wish the boxes produced pearls… Other times, everything bleeds together. A bit like […]

giving up disbelief ~

I usually try to keep Lent in some fashion. It’s a wonderful practice, to offer up a piece of your everyday life for good. To think of your everyday life as a kind of, well, prayer. As a Buddhist, I […]

‘why can’t we be friends?’ (a beginner’s heart take on partisan politics ~)

I wish I could persuade politicians to adopt this song as the campaign year’s anthem… I’m not holding my breath. Here’s the deal: I have friends with whom I argue constantly. And a cousin whose political and spiritual beliefs are […]

Previous Posts

poetry, structure, and creative beginner's heart
Last night, discussing structure and writing with my elder son, I said I couldn't write w/ too much structure. That writing is -- for me -- a discovery process. Structure, I told him, can actually kill my ide

posted 3:03:47pm Apr. 16, 2014 | read full post »

what a difference a day makes (and other ways I wish I was like my grandson)
My grandson burnt his hands Sunday. Not horribly, but badly enough that he cried inconsolably for hours. Today? He's his usual sunny self: slapping the Cheerios on the highchair

posted 3:01:12pm Apr. 15, 2014 | read full post »

in the flash of a moment
My grandson hurt himself today. Not horribly, but bad enough that he's been crying for two+ hours. On a lovely spring day -- temps in the lower 70s -- he was on the deck w/ his folks, crawling happily around

posted 4:45:55pm Apr. 13, 2014 | read full post »

the poetry of every day
It's easy to forget that every day holds poetry. Especially if you're hectic: packing, moving, cleaning a new house, unpacking... Soothing a disolocated dog, holding a curious baby. Eating out of cartons while you locate the dishes and pans. All of this can make you forget the whole point of the

posted 2:46:45pm Apr. 12, 2014 | read full post »

what poetry gives us
Today's poem is actually a three-fer. I've been writing to prompts from NaPoWriMo, one of the national sites for National Poetry Writing Month. The poem today is written from yesterday's prompt, which asked wri

posted 6:30:22pm Apr. 09, 2014 | read full post »


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