where the writers are

transitions blog

It's been a while since I've been in school, but increasingly I have to hit some online courses, go to seminars or networking events in order to stay competitive and "in the know".

I don't know about anyone else but having raised a young woman to adulthood and letting her go is as traumatic a transition as I can think of.  While there's been many other transitions in my life: m

"We must become the change we want to see." -Mahatma Gandhi

Change is nothing more than a moral ethical exercise, and in its chattiness of possibilities the adjectives of despair thrive.

Japanese teahouse in the Wabi Sabi tradition

Last night my Wabi Sabi group met to talk about transition. “Wabi Sabi?” you ask.

The coyotes are howling. Not right now but often enough. I never see them. I only hear them.

A whiff of woodsmoke caught in my nostrils tells me a change is on the way. This is the first sign or maybe it is the confirmation of what is to come. I cannot decide.

After one year of living on campus at Haifa University, I and my husband are now renting a wee apartment in a complex for people 55 and older in the beautiful little town of San Juan Capistrano. 

In my last blog I posted about finding the new me.


I stand on my tip-toes and touch the pine beams my dad uncovered this week in their kitchen in New Hampshire. The cherry, mahogany patina is rich and multi-textural.