Erasing the Other While Theorizing Narrative Therapy

It’s been a wet, chilly, boisterous sort of day. The eggplants in the garden, the ones that were wilting in this week’s heat, have returned to their full stature, and the oriental poppies have taken over the front yard.

We have been at a Narrative Therapy gathering most of the week. This now yearly event draws practitioners from around the world, as well as leaders in the field, to a beautiful site on Lake Champlain for a stimulating training and conversations. Continue reading

The Danger of Sport As Metaphor

EveningThe dawn revealed a world held in deep fog, the snow cover having melted away in this week’s warmth. Bare ground and limbs remain.

I’ve succumbed to the mid-January doldrums, and have taken to sitting before the fire with a good book. Occasionally I journey up to the studio and muck about. I’m not much good at blocking out the events of the world, nor have I been, historically, accomplished at working with the themes of the time, so I muck. Continue reading

Summer

P1080007This morning the sun came out, following another rainy spell. Now, fair weather clouds have blossomed in the cerulean sky.

Vermont is green, those rich early summer hues that saturate the landscape. From here it is very difficult to imagine the cold to come; even so, last evening we gathered with others to acknowledge the Solstice, and thus, the turning year. Truth is, tonight will be a tad longer.

Last week was perplexing, the sort of week that leaves one scratching one’s head, and pondering life’s complexities. The gardens finally showed life, with even a handful of bean plants breaking the surface. (I guess we should replant the beans, again.) Politicians blamed the victims of the Charleston shootings, and surprisingly few people seemed to object. The theft of Native lands continued unabated, as did the cascade of youth suicides on reservations. Continue reading