Archive
30
May
2018
Bags of food and supplies gather in the kitchen as I pack up for the spring retreat. There is a gathering energy in me also. Visions of entering a sacred space with a handful of women fill me. I wonder, “What are they feeling as they ready themselves for this journey?” We will move deeper
11
April
2018
I sit at my desk. I wonder. “Can I?” Unbreakable, the title of my new book, challenges me. Writing always does. Yet, this book presents a unique test. It’s impossible for me to write about our unbreakable core without exploring my own brokenness. That is my stopping place. Do I have the courage to be
03
February
2018
“I’m 10. And I Want Girls to Raise Their Hands,” writes Alice Tapper in her New York Times editorial. This is how she recounts her experience on a recent field trip.. “I noticed that all the boys stood in the front and raised their hands while most of the girls politely stayed in the back
03
January
2018
4:25 AM. Darkness surrounds me. Don’s sound asleep upstairs. I’m nestled in the living room window seat. A favorite place to perch for the ten years this house was ours in Ouray, Colorado. Now we rent this mountain home from its new owners. Outside my window stars spill across an indigo predawn sky. Bold outlines
02
November
2017
We are grieving. Recently, we lost Don’s mother and father. They died sixty-five days apart and just missed celebrating their seventy-sixth-wedding anniversary. They had rich full lives. This was not a tragic loss. And yet their deaths have left holes in our hearts and lives. Grieving is an art. Like any art it’s a skill
01
September
2016
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
06
July
2016
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.
10
March
2015
Spring officially begins in twelve days, according to the sign my snow woman holds. Her countdown is one way I mark its arrival. Crocuses at the edge of my garden are another. Purple and yellow drops of color are refreshing in the midst of a black and white Midwestern winter. Dainty and determined these bright
01
July
2012
To feel at ease in a hammock is simple. The lake is lapping against the shore. My Journal at hand. Birds are singing. A ropey cocoon enfolds me. Hammock retreats are few and far between for most of us. We are busy. We are always on our way to somewhere as pressing “to do” lists
01
June
2012
Many of our Midwestern spring days were twenty degrees hotter than usual. Magnolias that held their buds through the cold winter, couldn’t resist bursting open like pink popcorn. The climbing Hydrangea was already thick and green on the garden fence when the other flowers began to blossom. Daffodils and tulips that waited for months in the frozen earth also appeared earlier than other years.
Get Your FREE Copy of
Schmooze Your Muse:
Journaling to
Lose Your Mind,
Find Your Soul and
Embody Your Voice
Get immediate access to your free e-book, Schmooze Your Muse: Journaling to Lose Your Mind, Find Your Soul and Embody Your Voice. This ebook is forty pages that show you a process that I created while writing my book Unfolding. Simply enter your name and email address below to get your free copy now.
**Double-check your email for accuracy to ensure you receive your free mini course.
Privacy Assured:
Your email address is never shared with anyone