M. Rickert's Blog

Eudora Welty wrote, “Ever feeling waits upon its gesture,” and I wonder what the gesture of gratitude might be. I think often of the photograph I saw years ago of a woman who carried white rocks to her small tent where she assembled a  garden of light against the bleakness of the refugee camp she lived […]

Basically, I am a hobbit. I love my little house with its cozy rooms filled with books and blankets. I love my breakfast and my second breakfast of tea and chocolate. I love to listen to soft music while I stare out the  window over my desk waiting for my characters to say something. But, every […]

On the train to Chicago I sat next to a woman around my age who was taking a much longer journey to visit her son, his wife, and the new grandbaby. We chatted back and forth a bit and then, because I can not resist blurting this out to anyone within earshot lately, I told her […]

I decided to take a summer vacation on my front porch. When we bought this bungalow seven years ago, I thought it had a lovely little foyer. What a nice entrance, I thought, too bad there’s not really enough room for a coatrack, and those windows, which open inward, won’t allow for hat hooks either. Little did […]

About a year and a half ago my yoga teacher, Meg, offer […]

  Someone just knocked on the door in my new novel […]

The  first time I read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, probably about twenty-five years ago, death was a metaphor, but when I picked it up again last week I did so seeking direct solace. I opened it to the chapter titled The Process of Dying and came across this description; “Our […]

The  first time I read The Tibetan Book of Living and D […]

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts […]

Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter […]