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Something To Say

It wasn’t until somewhere around Christopher Street that I realized that Thursday night’s Rockwood Music Hall set was littered with references to breaking silence, speaking up and being heard. From “Giving Up The Ghost” (“It’s...

It’s All Right

Saturday morning’s slate-gray, wind-whipped bluster was an angry, Joycean tempest fit solely for hours indoors with tea and sympathy. Abbi and I braved the elements nonetheless, striking out through the icey, soggy streets to yoga at Exhale on Central Park...

Heart Shining Forward

These days, it doesn’t take much to make me cry. I’m not talking full-bore, crocodile tears, or the hyperventilated, cheek-puffing sobs of childhood. I’m talking about those moments when the beauty of life becomes so temporarily overwhelming, so...

The Miracle Of Showing Up, Part II

Yesterday afternoon, I raced uptown to a doctor’s appointment on West 96th Street, tripping out of the cab some fifteen minutes late. It took me at least thirty seconds to realize the appointment was on 86th Street. Just seventy-two hours shy of leaving...

A Life Less Ordinary

I’m not sure whether my life is more moving, or that I’m more open to being moved. Either way, I choke up pretty easily these days. A few weeks ago, for example, Abbi and I bought Ethan a grab bag of magic tricks for his sixth birthday. He and Edward sat...