A few years ago, my husband Barry and I were backpacking near our home in Northern California. The last afternoon, as we headed back to our van, I began to feel grumpy, and without thinking about it, I started having a heated monologue with my sister, out loud. I don’t remember my exact words, but I know the gist of it because all my conversations of that type had a familiar rhythm. “Look,” I said. “Would you just listen for a change? Come on!” and I continued in an aren’t-you-an-idiot tone of voice.
Barry turned around. “Who are you chuntering to?” he asked, frowning, using a British term for muttering that’s his word for when I’m telling someone in no uncertain terms that they’re wrong. God forbid I tell them…
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Spirituality & Health (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2025