My second left incisor got snapped off in a nasty bicycle crash my junior year in college and had to be root-canaled. The dentist jury-rigged a "temporary" composite crown. That was almost eighteen years ago now.

Although I had all mercury fillings removed years ago, the root canal was a sleeping-giant issue I wasn't ready to address until recently. But with all the healing work that I've been undergoing lately, and with the increasing clarity that I'm undergoing healing in order to be a channel to provide healing, the little twinges in that tooth here and there caught my attention. Time for it to go. 

From the other side of the world, from the other side of thirty-nine years, I salute my then-new mother on the other side of her hard labor.

From the other side of the screen, you--dear reader--come to this blog to see what's new. Sometimes there's a new post every time you check; other times, all is static for a month at a time. Perhaps that unchanged front-page post each time is no less fresh/novel/new than the parade of new posts.

From the other other side, I am still here, I am working hard, I am in material precarity but trusting in divine guidance.

So, what else is new?

I used to think this only referred to "other people":

Prolonged/habitual dieting will inevitably lead to rebound hyperphagia (insatiable hunger) and accelerated weight gain, until a healthy weight is restored.

 *See the bottom of this post for some sources

I really believed I was a special case. That was never going to be me. Even less me was the accompanying idea that this extra weight would cause the person to feel so much better that soon she wouldn't mind it.

Then, this past 18 months, it happened to me.  "What's constant is the shift..." But how am I going to move through this shift?

A couple of weeks ago I learned that what I had considered a dream job--an assistant editorship at The Georgia Review, where I had the honor and delight to intern a couple years ago--had come up, been advertised, and been filled. And I hadn't been paying attention in the appropriate direction and had known nothing about it.

The very next day, a friend forwarded me a link advertising that the Tree of Life health retreat center is hiring for a raw chef. Cheffing at "The Tree" was another of my dream jobs. And I'm not even thinking of applying--now is not remotely the time, and now is the only time.

What does this say about the quality of my "dreams" when it comes to jobs?

As I've continued to process last week's thefts, the feeling of violation, I've been resisting the temptation to blame myself for manifesting the woes and at the same time attempting to ask, without self pity, what I can do/could have done differently. What is it that needs my attention and is not getting it?

Again with the questions. Perhaps there's a beautiful symmetry in the fact that I find questions so useful everywhere and always and in the fact that the one quality on which I pride myself and which I hope never to lose is that of listening/being a good listener.  But am I listening enough right now? I feel, rather, that I'm grasping desperately...

(with thanks, of course, to Elizabeth Bishop)

I've been going on and on about being the tail wagging the dog, the smile that starts firing happy chemistry. Then my house, and my neighbor on the other side of the duplex, got broken into on Wednesday, and irreplaceable family jewelry was stolen. Today, shopping on the way home from group where we'd been discussing how to wag that dog and create that smile, my scooter was stolen from right beside me as I browsed for a gift for my niece and perhaps a little token of safety.

Law of Attraction specialists, what am I doing that's making this happen?

Until not too long ago, this blog comprised weekly "spells" formed of three posts showcasing a concept from my three angles of obsession and fascination. Of course, this wasn't saving the world or necessarily accomplishing anything important--or was it? At least it was some sort of momentum and shape.

Sometimes what looks like a finger-twirling dance is actually a planetary fecundation. I've witnessed conversations where the conversants were actually engaged in a jedi light-saber battle, which you'd only notice if you knew how to look. What looks like a plummet into oblivion might in fact be one erect wing of a beautiful bird, the low point its back, sending your eye running up the other wing. Sometimes the tail does wag the dog, or rather, sometimes if you smile and engage the smile muscles, the parts of your neurochemistry associated with things smileable start to kindle.

This post is my tail attempting to wag my dog.