"Hope is the thing with feathers," and it is also the thing that "perches in the soul, / And sings the tune without the words, / And never stops at all..." So here's to singing even if we don't know the words, and never stopping at all.
Frequently dreaming of the best tea of my life: black, with milk and sugar, from the pushcart on a train to Edinburgh. I write about recovering from divorce, what it means to be a single mother, and finding that all-elusive serenity.
The number of free subscribers for Singing the Tune Without the Words over time since it was added to the directory.
Something odd will cross my mind, or a memory will catch me off guard, or my monkey mind will swing from the ceiling fan, or a tiny ant will crawl up the bookcase next to my chair. Then I get curious and curiosity is the first step in an unknown direction
The story is not about what happened, it's about what the narrator makes of what happened.
Semi-weekly essays on imagination, art, literature, and the restless search for the good life
Science-based answers to your questions about sex and burnout, by best-selling authors Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski.