Slipping into the pool for the first time in nearly two years, it came back to me—the sense of well-being that I find in the water.
Read MoreIn the last year of my father's life he obsessed about his father's grave. His life had been upended in nearly every way, yet regularly he would call the office at St. Patrick's Cemetery in Butte, Montana to assure that his father's grave was being cared for.
Read MoreWhen I was growing up, my grandmother used to reminisce about how she ran away to the icehouse to meet my grandfather for their planned elopement. It wasn't until I discovered a hundred-year-old newspaper clipping in a box of family photos that I began to imagine a more complicated story.
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Although I may be a fallen away Catholic, I am a practicing Guadalupana. She is my go-to intercessor whenever there is a request for prayers or when I need a little personal grace.
Read MoreSometime in the summer, the photographer Cig Harvey posted a beautiful image of a young girl with a soft light illuminating her long hair. Her caption read "There needs to be a word for moving dappled light."
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For a dozen years, my remarkable partners, Marjanne Pearson and Paul Nakazawa, and I taught a course on professional practice classes in the Executive Education Program at Harvard's Graduate School of Design. Exhilarating, educational (for the educators) and exhausting. Our first gig ran for nine years — 1996 to 2004; the second from 2011to 2013. Much changed for the professions over all those years. What has not changed is my own curious relationship with Harvard. Not so much the real place, rather the over-determined Harvard of my mind.
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