Red-winged blackbirds fly from branch to feeder. Chickadees and sparrows take off as pushy grackles land. Bulejays claw at the air as they struggle to find their place. It’s impossible to pass through our kitchen without watching the birdfeeders. Minutes go by unnoticed as I observe birds and the occasional squirrel. Slowing down lets me notice […]

As a new therapist I drove my clinical supervisors crazy. My clients told me about their struggles. I responded with a view of their potential. I was quick to tell them how this situation would make them stronger. My supervisors called this “a flight to health.”  They told me what I was saying about my

Perched on Yavapai tribal land we’re up top Prescott, Arizona.  Don and I are hostages to a winter storm. Not in a teepee, in a resort. It could be much worse. Yavapai means “people of the sun.” The tribe boasts the first female chief in North America. Viola Jimulla was Chief of the Prescott tribe

In October, my intention came whooshing in like an autumn wind. In an instant, I knew courage would be my 2016 intention. Immediately I thought, Why courage? Will this be a particularly challenging year? My mind ever alert for possible problems quickly made itself heard. Gratefully, I am in the company of many brave women.

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

Fiery leaves gather around the base of our two Blaze Maple trees. Most will form a winter’s blanket over gnarly roots. But two handfuls of leaves will be part of this afternoon’s workshop, Schmoozing Your Muse. Once gathered, I carry them into the kitchen where they’re carefully washed before I head out. Workshop participants, a

My garden won’t be hurried. She steadfastly makes her seasonal changes. Summer’s exuberant growth is now giving way to autumn’s bright colors. She’s unfolding. Watching her natural rhythms make me question my own. What guides my changes? Am I moving with inner guidance or racing ahead to finish my “to do” list? When I am

Snip. Snip. Snip. Black spotted rose leaves fall into my hand to be tossed into the bin of yard waste. Gathering flowers and tidying the house and garden as I prepare for my friend Robin’s visit reminds me of my mother. Few were the times she would scurry with such delight. Yes, family celebrations and

“Jump! Jump!” Screams reach my ears and the shaking in my legs gets worse. I want to back up and crawl off the high dive board. But an impatient crowd of bathing suit clad divers stands in my way. I close my eyes and fall into the gapping maw of the pool. This childhood memory

Seeing an Old Story through New Eyes by Guest Blogger Katie O’Connell My mother died 34 years ago. I was 14. Nothing prepared me for the depth of that loss. In my teenaged mind I believed I was almost an adult. In truth, I was a lost child wearing an adult façade, too frightened and