me: untangling the threads

A few weeks ago I spent a fortune repairing my car—the head gaskets were leaking. As you might imagine, I was more than a little irritated that a paycheck’s worth of money vanished in one credit card swipe, but something beautiful happened on the way home: When I looked out the back windshield, it was covered with hearts! The sweet mechanic had drawn them all over my car, which pretty much erased any memory of the bill; it also made me think about marrying him for a split second, but that second faded very fast.

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Carrie Grossman
At Home in the Abbey (at least for now)

Lately a lot of people have been asking me if I want children. I don’t know why, but the question keeps coming up for no discernible reason. Maybe these lovely folks are trying to figure out why someone in her thirties is living in the boonies all by her lonesome, but whatever the reason, I only have one answer: I don’t know. Having kids is something I take pretty seriously, considering the divorce rate and the fact that the world population is more bloated than my worst premenstrual moment. Also, it’s a bit hard to imagine making a person since I haven’t yet stumbled upon a man I want to make one with.

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Carrie Grossman
Ode to a Night Flower

It’s summer in the Berkshires, and a beautiful one—wet with rain, quiet blossoms, and bird songs. I love the changing seasons. Here in the Berks I live in a cabin that is pure magic—filled with skylights and wooden beams, little lights, and hanging stars. The space is so special sometimes I just look around and smile. Then I remember that, yes, it’s beautiful, but it’s also in the middle of nowhere. This thought often propels me to pack my car and move far away, but as I stand in the driveway and look at the house with all of its loveliness, I always walk right back in and make a cup of tea.

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Carrie Grossman
Inside the Secret Cup

When I started meditating many years ago, every time I sat down and closed my eyes, I burst into tears; it seemed like a problem. Other people appeared so damn peaceful when they meditated—eyelids gently closed, hands folded nicely in their laps. What was wrong with me? My crazy mind was on fire with thoughts and all I wanted to do was let out a long, piercing shriek.

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Carrie Grossman