Author Archives: Risa Denenberg

> Write every day Volunteer my time somewhere that has nothing to do with healthcare Learn to speak a second language Study philosophy Get at least one more degree Work on my Jon-poems and get them published Do a unit … Continue reading →

> I had the urge this week to return to my hippy roots, to don patched jeans and tie-dyed shirts, cover my fingers with rings, grow my hair out into long tangly ropes, lose the bra. The desire comes with … Continue reading →

> It’s a hard conversation to return to, leaving it dangling as I did in March. These days I’m thinking incoherently about so many connections that I can’t unjamble, can’t articulate, can’t let go of, unable to view hardly any … Continue reading →

>I saw a psychiatrist in February because of the persistent disengagement from life I’ve been experiencing. Engaging brings up issues of interrelatedness and interdependence that flummox me. Issues of dependency comprise a huge part of my work-life. We are programmed … Continue reading →

>Yesterday, driving to work, the meditative-creative state that I rely on for sustenance re-appeared. Hallelujah! When something is amiss, you feel absence, but can’t always pinpoint what is missing. Without access to that state of mind, I don’t write and … Continue reading →

>I’m quite serious when I say I’m blogging to save my life these days. I have a large file cabinet drawer full of volumes of handwritten journals, dating back to my adolescence, and they too have kept me afloat during … Continue reading →

>A thought, driving through the silent falling snow yesterday morning, wanting to stop and have a look, frost-style, but urged forward by an impatient honking soul, ran something like this: sudden beauty laced with sorrow, conjoined twinsour inheritance Missing a … Continue reading →

>I had a meltdown at my office this morning. Over the weekend, a new program was installed in everyone’s computer, and this morning all of our “My Files” had disappeared. Wiped out. I’ve spent hours putting together a census list … Continue reading →

>It’s certainly a case of the februaries. Dark when I awaken, puffy grey skies above, overdried indoor air and moisture-laden outdoor fog, limited visibility all around. Then there is the rain-ice-rain-ice cycle we are enduring here along with news of … Continue reading →

> (Will I write poetrywhen I’m oldor am I already old?) The old narrativeisn’t holding, it’s sliding.Using a hoeto crosshatch the ice.Tacking foothold as I descend the slope.Falling anyway. Bruised.My thumb, ruddy tumescence. Inner fatigue, anhedoniaParesthesias. Surface irritability,Meanspirited outbursts, easy … Continue reading →