A couple of weeks ago I upgraded my phone. Which meant shifting contacts. And as there was a major update on my desktop as well, it seemed a good idea to go through my directory. Because people die. And it takes YEARS before I can bring myself to ‘delete’ them. And yes, I realise they’ve…

I’ve spent the past week as busy as bees storing late summer honey. First there was the annual writing conference I both help with and attend — Nimrod’s Conference for Readers & Writers. That’s a two-day gig of work (not to mention the prep!) for those of us who work it. There are writers to…

I name my trees when I plant them: Ramses, Henry, Scarlett, Daphne. My car has a name, and like T.S. Eliot, I believe cats will tell you their names. IF you pay attention. My sister and niece are still waiting for ‘Cat’ to tell them hers. Names are, as so many cultures know, power. A…

It’s autumn, when life begins to slow. Sap draws down, and other than the frenzied cheek-stuffing of squirrels, outside seems quieter. Except for the explosions of colour beginning to detonate. Today, I’m writing from a dear friend’s home, looking out over the infinitely beautiful valley below her wall of windows. Mostly evergreens, but the deciduous trees…

Britton Gildersleeve
about

Britton Gildersleeve

Britton Gildersleeve is a 'third culture kid.' Years spent living on the margins - in places with exotic names and food shortages - have left her with a visceral response to folks ‘without,’ as well as a desire to live her Buddhism in an engaged fashion. She’s a writer and a teacher, the former director of a federal non-profit for teachers who write. 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. She is (still) working on her beginner's heart ~

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