Author Archives: bluemountainchild

I was surprised to see you this morning, covered in a fine film of auburn grains. I immediately knew you were dead. The intonation of my exclamation reminded me sharply of my mother, though she would perhaps be reticent to acknowledge the distinctness of the refrain: “What in the hell!” Numerous thoughts came to mindContinue reading “To the two dead ants I found in my little bag of cinnamon.”

I came to Montreal at a time when I needed compassion and understanding. With a freshly broken heart and an acceptance letter to graduate school, I was in the midst of a transition. It’s been over a year and only now do I really understand that I haven’t encountered much of those things here, especiallyContinue reading “Ode to Montreal….or something like that.”

If I left right now I could make it to satsang, an opportunity to sing the names of the Lord with a room full of strangers in the Sivananda tradition. Wednesday night satsangs are small and intimate. The evening’s leader chooses random teachers from the assembled crowd to pick a bhajan—devotional song—and lead it kirtanContinue reading “Committed to Feeling”

I’m 18 and sitting in the doctor’s office as the barrage of results come in. Blood tests: close to normal hormonal levels. Ultrasound: healthy ovaries. The diagnosis? “Polycystic ovarian syndrome.” The doctor says it with a dismissive wave of her hand, “very common.” I give back a blank stare. I’m not impressed with a doctorContinue reading “Lessons From My Polycystic Ovaries.”

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I was sick with a fever for five days a couple of weeks ago. I unwittingly found this on my desktop, having forgotten I’d written it, and publish it now as a poem. I’ll shake the eucalyptus trees out of your garden path and forget to pretend that I am a replacement. You shift and turn under coversContinue reading “The Dulcimer Sings”

I had a vision of a house I want to build. It is a tiny house, because I do not need large spaces for myself and the quiet gatherings I like to have. No, just a well-stocked kitchen; a shelf for books and tea mugs; a space enough to dance. This vision has clean linesContinue reading “I am a Woman of Change.”

I’m sick in bed. It’s where I’ve been for the past three days. This means I am watching chick-flicks and willing my mind to form some semblance of cohesion so that I can attempt to tackle homework as it piles up. I feel the shaky beginnings of linear thoughts reorganizing back into the rational, soContinue reading “Feverish Feminist (?) Ranting”

I chased the sun for the entire plane ride there. Once we crested above the wintry blizzard at takeoff, the clouds below offered a clear, crisp line. Its similarity to the second-floor view of the prairie home I grew up in was startling. Scanning out from my window seat, I half expected to see telephoneContinue reading “Thriving in the Face of the Familiar”