Archive
It is a muggy summer morning. The calendar says it’s July. How can that be? The first half of the year now vanishes into misty memories. Every year around July fourth, I scratch my head in wonder, “How did half a year fly by? Each day has twenty-four hours. Yet the first half of the
Scents of sweetgrass and sage hang in the air after our women’s circle. I replace the rattle and other objects back into my basket. There is one thing I cannot pack away. Circles are always touching. Today’s is. We listen as two women tell us about their grandmothers who died recently. Tender tears roll down
We are still doing our pandemic photo purge. In the process, we unearthed old audio tapes. What a treasure trove. We found recordings from 1979. The tapes were made by my family and me. We sent them to each other while I studied in Spain. Listening to the tapes stirs up lots of emotions. Deb
Tiny tender reddish leaves appear on our blaze maple tree. Daffodils add patches of bright yellow to our barely awake garden. Tulip leaves poke through the soil with a promise of flowers to follow. Spring is a season of promise. A full pink moon appears on April 26th. It is named for Spring’s earliest widespread
Sorting boxes of photos and keepsakes means we are finally doing what we have avoided for decades. A pandemic offers a perfect opportunity. Don carries the boxes up from the basement. Now our family’s story spreads across the dining room table and part of the family room. Birth announcements, letters I wrote from Spain are
Daring Muse Encounters is a workshop I am leading right now. We use art and writing to invite our muse to enter. Once again, we see how a focus on creative process awakens us. Why? Creativity connects us to the unfolding Mystery of life. Make things! Make art. Bake apples. Knit
Light is returning. Ok, I know it is slow. During the bright days of summer, we barely notice that daylight is leaving minute by minute. It begins slipping away June 20th at summer solstice. Slowly, almost imperceptibly our days become shorter. Then we shift to daylight savings time in autumn and darkness envelopes us. Now
My path from fridge, to stove, to counter repeats more times than I care to count. Peeling, chopping and sautéing as I prepare favorite holiday foods. Christmas music and the tree’s piney scent fill the air. I hear Don‘s car. He’s back from O’Hare where he gathered Wes, Deb, Elly, and Lilly. Deb and her
I am learning to notice… Goldfinch’s changing colors Moon’s phases Magnolia’s blossoms Noticing them connects me to Deep Time. Time that is not measured in minutes but in moments. Deep Time reflects patterns that are not counted on a clock’s face but on the white faces of stars. When we experience awe and wonder we
“Breaking News” pulls us from one crisis to another. Our inner clock begins to race at a chaotic pace. But we can recall other rhythms. Rhythms that return us to a primal pulse connecting us to deeper inner knowing. We can choose to let Mother Nature shows us her way of marking time. Moon cycles
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Events
- Women Writing To Unfold: Glastonbury, CT
- 22 May 22
- Glastonbury
- Women Writing To Unfold: Taos, NM
- 11 Jul 22
- Taos