HARVESTING LOVE:
Finding Love in Unexpected (& Expected) Places
“Giving voice, communicating, is a sacred way to free love.”
Ani’s Harvesting Love blog is dedicated to releasing the energy of love into the world.
The blog’s purpose is also to treasure the gift of language, the power of giving voice. Read More
Wanting Words
I want to share “WANTING WORDS” with you in case you might enjoy it and, also, in case sharing it might inspire you to share what you may have kept hidden, whether your writing or some other form of expression.
Add Gold to the Ocean, A Dream
I woke from a dream early this morning in which I had just been told to “add gold to the ocean.” “How one can add anything to the absolute?” I was asking aloud as, still under the influence of my dream, I came to consciousness with no idea who had…
When Is The Last Time You Learned to Walk?
Pop Quiz: when is the last time you learned to walk again? This is not a trick question. (Well, maybe it’s slightly tricky, but there’s no wrong answer.) Step. Step. Fall. Stand Up. Step. Fall. Stand Up. Fall. (Perhaps be embraced wildly and celebrated!)
Book Review: My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry
My Grandmother Asked Me To Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman was a delightful and stimulating read. Almost eight-year-old Elsa is “different” and deliciously quirky, as are most of the characters who inhabit her apartment building and life—
A Leaf’s Prayer
Events in my life of late have been leading me to contemplate prayer quite a bit. I thought I would share some inspiration on this subject as I find and revel in it, starting with a poem by Mary Oliver called “Praying, from her book, “THIRST, and another…
This Little Light of Mine by Meg Fisher
“This little light of mine” was part of a family glow. When I was a child, if any one of us excelled at math, placed into a gifted class, got A’s or was photographed for the town paper.
Voice and Vulnerability
Last week the nine women who will be reading and I got together to plan. One of the things we discussed is vulnerability, the vulnerability of putting one’s voice in the world, of being really visible and heard.
Two Poems by Ani: In There With Those Girls and Leavening
I wrote IN THERE WITH THOSE GIRLS over twenty-five years ago in honor of my father’s 70th birthday. It was subsequently selected for publication by Marge Piercy, the poetry editor of TIKKUN Magazine at the time. LEAVENING, another poem chosen for publication at the same time, follows.
My Father’s Dream
Fifteen years ago, my father had a dream that offered me a different— and life changing —answer to my question. I had already begun to suspect that “No” might not be the only possible reply to this question. Nonetheless, the truth that it’s not all right to feel happy…
Ani Tuzman wins the Peter K. Hixson Memorial Award
Writing, as you may have noticed, makes my heart sing. So does sharing it. Over the past many years, I have submitted my work to dozens and dozens of poetry contests and chapbook competitions (first to those for writers under thirty, then eventually for writers over fifty).
The beach, chocolate and a pen
Writing together, we have learned to greet and hold our own and each other’s most tender and most outrageous expressions and everything in between.
Hot tea in hand, we get cozy on sofas and rocking chairs, behind us walls the color of peach skin.
Seek the Nectar
In writing this to you now, I taste again the nectar of that butterfly’s presence and the wonder of my father’s spirit alighting (even if just in my imagination). What a perennial gift writing is, leading us, when we let it, deep into the heart. To harvest the nectar. To harvest love.
But this isn’t what I had in mind
This was the summer I finally was going to get my vegetable garden going again.
I got out soon as the ground could be worked in May to reclaim my 20 x 15-foot patch—beautifully situated in full sun— from the plethora of weeds spreading rampant and happy in the rich earth.
Peonies and Your Creativity?
“Wild and perfect for one moment before they are nothing forever…” Mary Oliver writes of the peonies in her poem, Peonies
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