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The Journal

Breath

Breath

When my mother texted to tell me that the doctors had found cancer in her lungs, I called and yelled at her. Standing on the streets of New York City, I was one more voice in the irate cacophony of the Financial District, sharing my outrage that some things should not be delivered over text.

It had never occurred to me that it might be too painful to say out loud.

Valentine’s Day Card: On Gratitude and Taking a Complaint Fast

I struggle with Spanish. No, let me say it this way: Lucho con el español.

This can be a problem for me, as I live in Mexico and most people I know are Mexican.

I studied Spanish for years in school, but, until now, I hid my fluency in the pages of my textbooks. Any student knows there is very little to be learned from those 1000-page tomes. So now that I am enrolled in the Spanish of Hard Knocks, I tell myself this story: Learning a new language is hard.

This story bounces around in my head every time I go to open my mouth. It catches the words on my tongue and destroys me before I conjugate my first verb.

“On this path effort never goes to waste, and there is no failure.”

The Bhagavad Gita 2:40