Big thanks to the writers, readers and tango dancers who made the trek through a late February snowstorm, some from as far away as Humboldt County, California, for our Sunday afternoon reading at wonderful Dudley’s in downtown Bend. And thanks to Tyler Haas and Emma James (seen here braving holes in the floor to dance in her stilettos) for sharing tango magic as a two-person “flash mob.” 

Poet Jana Zvibleman and I will be reading together again at 7pm on Thursday, May 24th, in Corvallis at Grassroots Books. Please join us there if you’re intrigued by love, death and tango, or any two out of three. Meanwhile, my book From Here to Argentina: a Tango Love Story is available through select independent bookstores, and online via Powell’s and Amazon. 


Tango, Romance, Life-or-Death Drama, and a Little Noir! 

If you missed my October reading at Roundabout Books in NW Crossing, I’d love to see you in downtown Bend at Dudley’s Bookshop and Cafe, 3:00 Sunday afternoon, February 25th. I’ll be reading excerpts from my new novella From Here to Argentina: A Tango Love Story, and poet Jana Zvibleman will share her sharply observed and poignant poems. You’ll laugh, maybe you’ll cry, and you’ll be hungry. Dudley’s is ready with seductive sweets, good tea, and some of the best espresso in Bend. Support the literary arts and independent bookstores, and treat yourself. It’s February, you deserve it.

Have you always (ever?) wanted to learn to dance tango? This is your year in Bend! Besides our inspiring and dynamic Wednesday evening teachers, Tyler Haas and Emma James, Tango Aficionados of Bend are welcoming internationally respected Argentine Social Tango teachers to Central Oregon.

Lucky Portlanders can find a place to dance tango every night. Now, one of Portland’s premier tango instructors, Elizabeth Wartluft, will be teaching classes here on Saturday, January 27th and Sunday, January 28th. Save yourself the long flight to Buenos Aires and join us at Sons of Norway on Bend’s West Side.

Go to and subscribe to the cotango-a group to stay informed. There’s more to come in 2018. 

Back in January 2017, still reeling from our U.S. election results, I posted my intention to visit Canada, after a long absence, for a fresh perspective. In December, I finally made it to Victoria, B.C. on Vancouver Island, in two short flying hops from Bend via Seattle. 

Like that friendly next-door neighbor who, despite being annoyed at your barking dog, still welcomes you in and offers coffee when you show up, Canada embraced my husband and me –– embraced us literally in an evening of tango at Cafe Casablanca (2524 Bridge Street, Victoria) with Tango Pacifico ( Distinguished Canadian author, David Gurr, was DJ that Friday, and a smooth lead in a community of impressive dancers. Cafe Casablanca’s weekly milonga is well-worth the trip to the spectacularly beautiful island.

Other Victoria highlights: delicious vegan dining at “Be Love” (; the superb paintings of Emily Carr, who seemed to have channeled the soul of Vancouver Island’s forests; and Munro’s Books, where Alice Munro (yes, that Alice Munro) once tended the till, and a kindly employee offered us non-sectarian prayers for our country.

Reading From Here to Argentina: A Tango Love Story at Roundabout Books in Bend’s NW Crossing Friday evening was a joy. I love reading to a live audience and meeting other writers and readers. 

Thanks to Cassie of Roundabout Books for all she does to enliven the Central Oregon literary scene! You can find my book at her store.

My new book, From Here to Argentina: A Tango Love Story, began with my dreaming a song I’d never heard before. It played in my memory when I forgot the dream itself.”Odd,” I thought. “Who would sing a song like that?”

Fictional characters, in my writing experience, show up fully formed, and my happy task is to explore who they are. The character, Mikhail, stepped out of my imagination into view as the song’s singer.

It occurred to me that “meeting” Mikhail was much like going to my first Argentine Social Tango classes, embracing my partners in tango’s intimacy before I knew anything else about them, certainly not the depths of their pasts, or their aspirations beyond learning the subtle and complex dance.

I set myself the challenge of throwing five equal protagonists together in a tango class in my short novel. Juniper, Dan, Esteban, and Rosalie joined Mikhail, the music began, and we were on our way.

“In dark times be the light.” I don’t know who I’m quoting, so many wise people have said this. As we pass through these dark times, let’s put the emphasis on the verb. Everything passes. We have choices in how we ride it out. My immigrant grandmother Anna was a great inspiration to me in my understanding that, at the risk of repeating myself, again, every moment is a choose-your-own-attitude opportunity. The events of this long winter have left many of us wanting to cover our heads and hide beneath the blankets. History has shown us where that leads.

My immigrant grandparents, Anna and Joseph

My immigrant grandparents, Anna and Joseph

Here are some suggestions to brighten your light:

If you need attitudinal inspiration, watch Groundhog Day again –– again. Spend time with friends and family in person, without a digital screen between you. (This suggestion courtesy of my friend Jana Zvibleman.) Besides being kind to yourself and others, besides supporting your community (however you define community), expand your vision. Visit other countries and talk to people there to learn their way of being.

I’m planning a long-postponed trip to Canada (no, not moving there, just visiting) to reacquaint myself with nearby cross-border neighbors who have a surprisingly different perspective of the world, and much to teach us. Pick your border, north or south, and explore.

Further away, Professor Huixiang Chen and Dr. Pingping Li are leading another enlightening qigong immersion China tour this April. A number of you visited my studio last year when Sandra Kunz shared her experiences on the 2016 trip. You’ll learn more about the opportunity, and qigong, at

Let’s embrace excitement and action, not fear, in 2017. Let’s all be the light in whatever way we choose.

“This doesn’t feel like my country anymore,” a friend told me over brunch in a Manhattan vegan restaurant, while a young man with a shiny lip ring and no eyebrows above his lettuce-green eyes sweetly served our black bean enchiladas with cashew cheese.

I understood what she meant. Heartbreak and dnovember-2016-2enial were my first responses to the presidential election results, too, but those reactions take you, or me, nowhere. I understand the urge to march in protest. I was among the many of my generation who filled Seattle streets protesting the Vietnam war, and I kept marching there and in Sydney for other causes for decades. I like to believe we made some difference. If you feel that demonstrating against bigotry, hate, and ignorance will make a difference now, I respect your choice. Sometimes that’s all that’s left, as appears to be the case in North Dakota.

My brunch companion takes a different course. Over coffee she explains. Now in her late eighties, she works with organizations in her town to provide shelter for women in need, to help elders stay in their own homes, to promote education for children, and to protect the natural environment. Her action is as radical as marching in the streets, and much harder to sustain.

Radical and sustained action is what will rescue our nation from violent division. Most radical is education, as it has always been. A populace educated  in gathering information, understanding history, and thinking globally and critically is equipped to solve problems creatively, rather than pretending they can wipe the board clean.

The many acts of generosity I witnessed and experienced the day after the election reaffirmed to me the importance of community. If you feel overwhelmed and helpless, start small, with one deliberate act of kindness, one appreciation of something good and beautiful, each day. Here in Central Oregon, donate time or resources to organizations like SMART or Younity, which build confidence, strength, empathy, and skill in children who will be making decisions for themselves and future generations. We’re all in this great adventure together.

Today I celebrate the Festival of Archangel Uriel who visited me, an angel skeptic who had never heard Uriel’s name, nearly two decades ago. I had no interest in, nor any familiarity with, archangels in any form then, much less the twenty-foot-tall winged being made of intense blue light who “spoke” to me clearly, without sound. Uriel has never appeared to me again, yet never left me, either. Uriel gives me courage to add my small voice today to the chorus demanding that we hold and nurture hope in these times of horror.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

In such times we can choose to let in the light. When we’re told peace is impossible, we must hold on to the Reality of Impossible Things. When we suffer so many causes to mourn, we must allow moments of beauty and joy as never before.

Not one of the famous archangels, there’s nothing easy about Uriel. Uriel demands we accept the challenge to act toward one another as though we see the angelic light in each person we meet, and within ourselves, even when fear threatens to dim it.

With gratitude to the Archangel Uriel, and wishing you all angelic blessings,


This winter after my mother died was long and bleak, though in “reality” no longer or bleaker than others. I’m returning from that darkness with my first note of 2016 and one last story about my mother.

She left me a gift I dreaded and saw at first as a curse: ninety years worth of newspaper clippings, magazines, letters, notes, photos, worn and never-worn clothes and shoes, tangled costume jewelry, flattened cereal boxes, diaries, half-empty perfume bottles, old red lipsticks, plastic bags and cloth scraps, on and on, waist-deep beneath dust so thick I had to wrap a scarf around my mouth and nose to breathe sorting it. I kept up a running commentary on my disgust, humiliation, and anger even as my mother’s secrets emerged from the layers like the excavation of an archeological dig. I was exhausted and filthy finishing with the worst of it, and hoarse from arguing with her for hours on end.

The gift came when at some point I saw her through her stash, beyond the mother who was never “motherly” enough for me, to the woman who was wholly herself, without apology, a woman of strength I could mourn with love and respect. She held me there despite myself until both of us were freed from my habitual sense of lack and resentment. I carry that lesson with me now, to see others around me with fresh eyes, less judgement. Thank you Mom.

Mom and me 1957

Mom and me 1957

This is where I’ve been for half a year, a healer healing, fragile, confused, blinking now in the welcome spring sun. I’ll post new announcements about my work soon, Qigong, easing the lightbody, and more.

Meanwhile, my radiant, powerful friend Teryl “T” Johansson has a new book out, Silver Talons, Sacred Prey: Stories To Rattle Your Ancient Shamanic Bones. Find illuminating adventures with T at