Don is in the basement working on his model railroad layout. I just awoke from a midday nap. The house is still. Outside the distant rumble of a jet lets me know life continues to have deadlines, boarding passes and schedules. Not me. A soft overstuffed chair hugs me. A summer blanket warms me. We
“Who, who, who are you?” The question comes from an owl in a nearby tree. It seems to be speaking to me as I pick up my pen and begin my early-morning journaling. The owl’s question reminds how hard it’s to be one’s self. Yet there is really no other choice. Harder still, is
Eight women sit in a circle. The rattle, that we use as a talking stick, lays in the center of the circle. This is the last day of four-day retreat. Soon one of us will reach for the rattle and speak. The closing ceremony will begin with her words. For now, we sit in deep
Our kitchen is my center of gravity. Changing it seemed like a bad idea even though Don repeatedly said it needed updating. Then the refrigerator failed. I could no longer deny it was time. Cabinets disappeared. Sink and appliances were carted off to new homes. Anticipation bubbled. Excitement gave way to impatience as every room
How are you going to be in 2017? Not what will you do or what will you have. How will you be? Most New Year’s resolutions are about what we will do. “I will start doing thirty minutes of exercise three times a week. I will eat less and move more.” Money,
Fake Wakes is a business I’ve considered starting. Its mission: To encourage telling friends and family how much they mean to us while they are alive. Company Motto: Tell them now. Too many of us save up all the best comments about loved ones to finally deliver at their funerals. It makes me wonder, “Is
Golden Shadows are gifts and talents that we have not fully owned. An easy way to discover your Golden Shadow is to ask yourself this question: Which reoccurring complements do I often push away with my words? Examples: Complement: You’re so creative. Response: No, I really am not. Compliment: You’re a great organizer.
I am a 72-year-old human doing. Most days find me doing a lot. Now I’m content to sit here in our family room, last night’s circle still present. Fragrances of sage, and sweet grass connect me to remarkable truths each women shared. As each lit her candle, she took a moment to silently offer a
Raggedy times, like we are living in now, hold potential. I didn’t always feel this way. I trust times like these more than repressed times when our cultural wounds are plastered over with denial. Breaking open is what happens in a healing process. It’s the same in our individual lives as in our cultural lives.
A peach tree grows in my childhood. Her leaves, like a thousand green tongues, swallow me. Smooth silvery bark ripples like skin over her limbs. Her branches perfectly spaced so that my little girl legs step on one and then another. I settle into my spot. Thick strong arms reach around me. I am held.
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- Unfolding in Taos, NM
- 29 Aug 17