Holly Cusumano

There is a cardinal rule in writing: Write what you know. So it is unfortunate that I’m gonna write about a topic I know almost nothing about. (Rule #2: Never end a sentence with a preposition.) Last October, I had the chance to visit Rodale Institute in Kutztown, Pennsylvania. Rodale is a scientific research facility associated with Rodale Press, who publishes gardening, health, and fitness books, magazines, and online content. You might be familiar with their popular publications, Prevention and Organic Gardening . My visit was sponsored by the Organic Valley Dairy Cooperative. (Ironic that I have been lactose intolerant my entire life.) (Rule #3: Use parentheses sparing.) (Rule 4: Avoid awkward words like the plural of parenthesis.) OK, sorry, I’m going to stop kidding around now and just tell my story. According to archaeological evidence, the property we visited has been farmed for 8,000 years. Others on the tour of about 30 people, worked for health food...

Thirty five years ago today, I had an out-of-body experience while giving birth to our son.  At the time, I didn't know how to label it or why it happened. I t was pretty weird. But when I took a poetry writing class in 1996, I knew immediately that my birthing experience would be the topic of my first poem.  Our professor said I was the only student he’d ever had who submitted a poem with a number as its title. I like being different, so this pleased me.  My classmates thought the poem was filled with symbolism; it’s not. It’s more of a report.  011478 Elevator silently slips through the dark tunnel; we burst forth Machines and metals and masks but I am lying in the grass Drab green walls, brash fluorescents sapphire sky, air, earth The illuminated and mechanized beep, beep, beep rhythmic tribal drums Phones ring, the damn TV introspection, focus, a suspended pause Isolation connected to the Clan Who’s running t...

Today I am moving my blog to YouTube. Please check it out. 

People often tell me their dreams. No, not their personal goals, I mean they ask me to interpret their nighttime dreams. I do like to think about symbols and their meanings. And like Lucy van Pelt in the Peanuts comic strip, I provide inexpensive insight. My husband is going through a phase where he talks and moves around a lot during sleep. It’s very hard to res t with a melodramatic opera or Greek tragedy being played out in bed, right next to you. The other night, during the second act, he jumped and screamed. I said, “Are you all right?” He said “Snakes.” Snakes are classic symbols appearing in the mythology of cultu res around the world. Often thought of as a symbol of evil (Adam and Eve), they can also rep res ent transfiguration (shedding skin) and healing (rod of asclepius). A few years ago, I made herbal dream pillows to sell, based on a book Dream Pillows and Love Potions by Jim Long, herbal superstar and author. Dream pillow recipes change d...

This week I watched the final episode of “Work of Art: The Next Great Artist” on the Bravo channel. Normally I dislike competitive reality shows, but I’ve enjoyed watching these 14 artists compete for $100,000 cash and a solo show in the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Because I love art but have no formal training, this show gives me insight into the current criteria for what is “good.” Each week a panel of judges brutally tells the artists what they liked and didn’t like about their work.  Here’s what I’ve learned. Good art can be: about the materials about skill about the subject about the viewer's reaction The other day I kicked off a new piece of my own art. For several years, I’ve been recreating famous paintings by using torn paper. I project the image onto the canvas to get the main shapes just right and then carefully study the original to fill in the details. Sometimes I recreate the entire painting, but most frequently, just a part of it. Here is the original I am copying – P...

I've been thinking a lot about what makes me happy and I feel kinda bad about it. Pondering one's own happiness seems so self-centered. Do people around the world sit and ruminate on what makes them happy, or is this indulgence uniquely American? On the other side of the world, is there a school teacher in Beirut having a cup of coffee and thinking about what makes her happy? A student in Beijing? Considering my own happiness is so Oprah Winfrey-ish. Today I googled “Oprah” and “happiness” and I found The Happiness Test . You can rate your happiness, compare your self to others, and get your BHI (Be Happy Index). Kind of ridiculous, but of course I took the quiz. And the prompts are interesting. For example:  I am good at letting go of past hurts and disappointments. In Psychology 101, we learned about a principle called Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs . The premise is that you work your way up through a pyramid of basic needs to higher levels of self actualization....

About 10 years ago during our routine Saturday phone call, my father asked me an amazing question, “Why does seeing something beautiful make a person cry?”  I was honored that he asked me such a powerful question and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. In my lifetime, I've seen some beautiful things that have made me cry. When I was 17-years-old and an exchange student in Spain , I walked down a dark corridor inside a church, turned a corner, and saw a huge painting (10 by 16 feet), El Greco’s “The Burial of the Count of Orgaz.” That was 1972, but I vividly remember the colors in it: the metallic gold, the reds, and the grays and how the elongated faces and figu res dripped emotion. I remember the awe I felt in seeing that the artist had painted a sheer white gown over a black velvet robe (lower right). I stood quite close to it for as long as the guide would allow. For many, the natural world evokes wonderment. About 25 years ago, on a trip to rural Canada...