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  On my way home from the gym (a place that I consider my temple, ashram, and healing space), I was listening to an interview on Fresh Air with Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, a sister clergy person. An ordained Episcopal priest, she left the pulpit to become a professor of religion at Piedmont College in Demorest,…

I am sitting cross-legged in bed on a morning set aside from others in the Jewish religion in which I was raised. As a child, at this point in the day, I would be in synagogue, wearing a dress, knee socks and black patent leather shoes, while perched on a folding chair next to my father,…

Just returned from a lovely evening at the home of my friends Deva and Stan Troy. The occasion was Erev Rosh Hashanah; meaning the eve of Rosh Hashanah. In the tradition in which I was raised, this night ushers in what is colloquially called The Jewish New Year. It begins the 10 Days of Awe between…

  I love to ponder the thread that connects people and events. Roll back the clock to 1972. Sitting on a wooden slatted bench, painted blue if memory serves, two chlorinated, sun-burned latex bathing-suited 14-year-olds struck up a conversation. Swimming on “two different teams together,” according to one of them, that chat (I don’t even recall…
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