This weekend we attended a lovely, funny and moving Passover Seder, held under a tent in our friends’ backyard. (We were part of the “mixed multitudes” since we are not Jewish.) My philosophy in life is that when you’re invited to cool things like that, you should always go (even though the very dominant introvert in me often tries to wiggle out of it).

Anyway, sitting under the tent last night I thought of all the other occasions we gather like this — weddings and graduations, memorial services and family reunions — and about the stories and histories that go along with those events. How delicious is ritual. How comforting and beautiful and right.

Twinkle lights, a tent
Tell me this ancient story
and it will feel new

Speaking of ritual, this ends yet another year of haiku-every-day in April. Thank you for reading and writing with me. It’s been such a satisfying practice. Much love… xxoxo