In Laura’s Words
I write to shine a light on a dim or otherwise pitch black corner…to provide relief for myself and others. It’s the light that I am looking for. And the wonder it illuminates.
May my words land in your heart.
yours, Laura
The Other Glass Girl
Every year that I can help it, on my birthday, I read "Franny and Zooey." My need to live for a day a year in masturbatory adolescent malaise is an affliction, a boon, a friend. Just for an afternoon, to be that girl on the couch, with the cat in her lap, sobbing...
The View Out My Bedroom Window
If I look out my window right now, at this moment in my life, it's the exact pink and ash lavender sunrise on snow-laden conifers...the exact photo I chose when I started this blog last May. Eight months ago, when I decided to take things under my own control and...
Rain Songs
Rain Songs by Laura Munson (as seen on the Huffington Post: click here) I used to sing. On purpose. In choirs and in singing groups…starting from the time I was a little girl, up until a few years ago when the band I was in broke up. I used to sing to my kids every...
Drowning to the Self
Well, tomorrow is my 43rd birthday and I have a lot to celebrate this year. As opposed to last year when I fell out of a river raft in the Middle Fork of the Flathead River in Glacier National Park near where we live...and got to ride a class 3 rapid, old school--...
Empty Boat
Empty Boat by Laura A. Munson I live for passion. But I oppose fanaticism, fanatically speaking. My mouth lashes against it with venom. Hot tears come catapult. My head swirls, tempestuous. It’s fight or flight. I usually flee, hot and wet, knowing that I have given...
Begging the Bear
Begging the Bear by Laura A. MunsonI went for the smell of wild roses pulsing in the vanilla of Ponderosas. For the June blues and purples: penstamon, flax, lupine, geranium. I went for the ninety-degree heat and cobalt skies after so many months by the woodstove,...
A Robin in the Woodstove
A Robin in the Woodstove by Laura A. Munson Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all --Emily Dickinson March 18, 2003 I was standing in front of the television this morning, watching the...
Roaming in the Groaning
Roaming in the Groaning by Laura A. Munson My friend gave me a trout that she caught with her husband, ice fishing. I asked her to tell me about ice fishing. I was new to Montana. I was bullied by other people’s peak experiences. By their permission to do things like...
The Fire-fighter and the Grizzly Bear
Laura A. Munson The Firefighter and the Grizzly Bear by Laura A. Munson I sat next to a New York City firefighter this morning, at the café in town. He was visiting Montana; here to fish. “Were you—you know…there?” I said. He talked about it for a little while. I...
Stop the Clocks
Stop the Clocks by Laura A. Munson (for Erin and Caden) Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning...
