the shadows

Submitted by la miller on 21 February, 2011 - 14:27

I miss my blog. I've been perusing posts from early 2006 and regretting I no longer am writing little things like that -- little postcards to myself about what's on my mind. Perhaps I'm not valuing the thoughts swimming around in my head as much these days. Isn't that what an MFA program is supposed to do?

Those old posts are just shadows. Snapshots of shadows even. What I'll use them for, what I'm putting together is perhaps better presented as a mosaic and not a narrative. Why I did one thing and then the next is never as clear as a straight line.

now i've really done it

Submitted by la miller on 7 February, 2011 - 13:05

I've got a new job at as Managing Editor at [|Mandala Magazine] AND I've succumb to [|Facebook].

So much for this blog, eh? And the thesis...?

cheap cheep

Submitted by la miller on 8 November, 2010 - 13:23

Big changes. I'm on Twitter. [!/pollyannamedia|Follow me here]. I moved. I got a new bike. See Flickr for [|pix].


Submitted by la miller on 18 October, 2009 - 22:42
photo: will mphoto: will m

The weather was great last weekend on the coast. The ocean's gentle breezes swept through the muck of my brain, body and spirit. The sand polished my feet and smile. The give and take of tides lulled me out of the high-stress overdrive that characterized my second week of full-time school. I took a deep breath and looked out as far as my eyes could carry me towards the horizon.

the practice of self-esteem

Submitted by la miller on 16 April, 2009 - 13:50

As I’ve move my mind into thinking of myself as a writer, I’ve had to square up with my self-esteem issues. These, of course, come up in other places, in relationships, at jobs, traveling, etc., but since I’m writing this for public consumption, I guess I’m approaching it from the point of view of accepting myself as a writer. These are a few of my thoughts, written quickly this morning. They may be incomplete, and I’m sure there are typos, but I wanted to get something down about this.

did i mention it's spring?

Submitted by la miller on 8 April, 2009 - 15:50

The [w:Japanese Flowering Cherry] trees are peaking. My camera and I have yet to connect with their delicate beauty. It seems they are a favorite of poets, artists and Buddhists. I just read in Buddhadharma magazine Zen teacher [w:Jan Chozen Bays] invoking them in a discussion on death:

Cherry blossoms in Japan are appreciated for their transient quality. The poignancy of the briefness of their bloom and their falling is what is beautiful. The very fading of the beauty we want to hold on to is the beauty.

Maybe I'll let another year go by without photographing them. Why try to capture that which is impermanent? I suppose, though, that that is what we are always trying to do.


Submitted by la miller on 4 April, 2009 - 19:14

Worked in the gardening today. We planted some starts and some seeds: beans, peas, cucumbers, zucchinis, corn, beets, onions, lettuce, spinach, cilantro, dill, wildflowers and probably other stuff I'm forgetting. It felt nice to get dirt under my fingernails.

a new world bravely - aka - leaving limbo

Submitted by la miller on 29 September, 2008 - 14:45

So as I write this, the stock market is diving and the House just rejected the $700 billion bailout plan. Still pretty early to see who's saying what in political blogland, but this is what I've got to say: step back and practice some detachment. These are very interesting times with the potential to be quite scary. Uncertainty is difficult for most people ... as is change. We are witnessing a lot of change -- condensed, fast and unpredictable upheaval, revaluation and reset.

Paying attention? Detachment doesn't mean ignorant or uninterested. So, pay attention.


Submitted by la miller on 16 March, 2008 - 14:39

It's fair to say I've been experiencing a lot of movement lately. But I'm not sure I'm on top of what it's all about. And I'm still slowly separating from my Madison ballast. More sorting and tossing and shipping of stuff. I can simultaneously feel that I don't need any of it and yet find priceless reminders of who I've been over the years.