Author Archives: janishaag

Just begin. Always begin again.Sit in meditation. Move prayerfully,or at least thoughtfully, though, really, it’s better to let thoughts fallfrom your hands like sand as youembark on this small pilgrimage, the one with others walking aheador behind you, some going … Continue reading →

Mother and I commune with the lilacsin her backyard, she taking my handto lead her into the shade where the faintly purple globes hang likeheavy breasts, a little droopy, a little pale,not unlike mine, actually. We stand and inhale lilac, … Continue reading →

Why capitalize “I” but not “me”?Is I more important than Me?Is Me not of equal weight to I? Sure, grammar gurus, I is a subject,the doer, the mover of a sentence.Me is the receiver, the object— but the object of … Continue reading →

Honey, cut yourself some slack.Give yourself a break. Ease up already.Whatever it is, stop it. Instead, get yourself outside.Look around. Spring is putting onher annual fashion show, and it’sa doozy. Just yesterday, you zoomedby a bush of exploding rhododendronsspreading lavender … Continue reading →

I don’t know why I say this to her,as if she’ll understand what I mean— as if I understand what this means,aside from the rhythm-y rhyme— but Poki has learned the differencebetween chicken cat food in a can and actual … Continue reading →

It is good to have an end to journey toward;but it is the journey that matters, in the end.—Ursula K. Le Guin, “The Left Hand of Darkness,” 1969 ••• And a good friend to do it with helps, too.Someone who … Continue reading →

The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—’tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning. ― Mark Twain, from “The Art of Authorship,” 1890, quoting his friend Josh Billing ••• … Continue reading →

One bright morningas I cut your hair on the deckwithin sight of the oceanwhooshing its way into shore, I stop, look up at the sound—not the familiar call of geese,but the whoosh of hundredsof wings, dark arrows overhead,migrating north along … Continue reading →

My mother tells me she found her first dead flyin her wine glass last week. “It’s fly-in-wine season,” she says to my puzzledlook. This as her happy azaleas bloom theirpastel heads off, and the pink dogwood showsoff in the front … Continue reading →

Let’s see your rain dance, baby.C’mon, honey, give it all you’ve got.Don’t worry if anybody’s watching,Do your thing, don’t give it a second thought. —Antsy McClain, “Rain Dance” ••• Because weather on our coast travels west to east,the drops that … Continue reading →