Soul Pilates with a Spirited Crone
In the old days, we used to burn heretics. Nowadays, there are more subtle approaches. The Reverend Gretta Vosper, a United Church of Canada minister has undergone the new methods by being deemed unsuitable for ordained ministry. Gretta doesn’t take…
As France tangles with burkini bans, who knew that images of pretty much butt naked fat women would leave such an impression on me, whilst 60 photographs of glorious women at 60 would seem lacklustre in comparison. The Adipositivity Project…
Compassion is a hot topic. A quick Google search throws up over 87 million references. Healthcare providers are increasingly promoting it as central to care. Yet, until recently, it has been ‘one of the most referenced yet poorly understood elements…
I didn’t expect to find myself humming the old hymn Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise at the launch of Spirituality Demystified: Understanding Spirituality in Rational Terms. But, as I listened to Rohana Ulluwishewa talk about our inner and outer realities…
She sat beside the bed, tears brimming. ‘Mum’s dying.’ ‘Yes.’ We sat in silence for a bit. ‘I’ve lost my faith.’ ‘Uh huh.’ ‘When my friend died.’ ‘Mm.’ We held hands and Mum’s too, wondering in our own ways, about…
Amongst the debris on my desk sits a small skull. It’s just big enough to remind me that I’m not long for this world. No, I don’t have a diagnosis that may make you feel awkward, other than being terminally…
Crying into my muesli was familiar territory in the days when hormones were more rampant, usually activated by the loss of some love or a response to the all-encompassing despair that used to dog my footsteps. The loves are gone…
I used to love the story of Little Red Riding Hood. There was something deliciously appealing about getting dressed up in an elegant red cape and sauntering off into the world alone. Grandma turning into the wolf didn’t bother me,…
Midwifing death is as important to the dying process as pain relief. For me, it’s walking slowly beside another person as they disengage from their dwindling life force and listening intently to the stories of their life. Stories can tumble…
Last time I saw Sam Hunt perform I was drunk in a pub in Wellington. We all were, him too most likely. It was what you did at those gigs where poetry and plonk were like riding a bicycle for…