Selected Writings
Below is a selection of writings from my blog, the spirit that moves me, that have had particular resonance for their focus on transition, the process of waiting, surrendering, and feminine authority & wisdom - central themes in my work. I hope these words, marked by my own personal journey, may offer some companionship as you navigate your own winding path.
To hear what others are saying about my writing, check out Creative Nonfiction Writing on my Testimonials page.
To hear what others are saying about my writing, check out Creative Nonfiction Writing on my Testimonials page.
The ground of waiting
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Those of us who take the journey into self-employed soul work and engage in the process of designing and building our lives by hand know well it is a slow and winding process that takes time. Everyday, I’m reminded there are no shortcuts, no Get Out of Jail Free cards, no way to skip-the-work-needed-for-the-life-I-want-to-live. And yet, the time and patience required can be downright painful. Each day holds a new lesson in No One is Coming to Save Me. That job is mine alone.
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Moments of grief
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Within the vacant and expansive cavern of the Nothing – that cold, hard, underworld non-reality of grief that finds its way in between the nooks and crannies of our defenses – we don’t know who we are, and the mornings are the most poignant. Fresh out of the in-between-place of the dream world, sadness can be all consuming.
Later, when we brush our teeth, get showered, make tea, sit down at the computer and begin the rituals and habits of the day, we may become distracted, voluntarily lost in the details, until our grief slips neatly back into the cracks of our psyche. For a while, we may even feel normal again. And we can breathe. But in those early morning moments, we are closer to it. Continue Reading |
A mother's day initiation
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The romantic notions, ideals, and wishes in cards celebrating this holiday simply don’t reflect the struggles that many women face as they try to fit inside what a mother is supposed to be. I often wonder how I’ll figure it out when the world’s most important job is elevated once a year, yet much of the time, our true stories go unspoken.
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Dreaming back my stories
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Leaving a good, stable job is not something that we are “supposed” to do. Everything about the culture in which I’ve lived has told me to follow the rules, do well in school, progress at work, be successful, and stick to The Plan. Opposition to this linear progression forward creates a swell of questions, concerns, and judgments that left me feeling guilty about the self-care practices that should be much more important to our workforce than they often are.
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Unnamed
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Our Name shapes our identity, determining how we dress, the people in our lives, our conduct, our choices, and helps us to survive. We state, “This is Who I Am” by presenting a job title, a role, an affiliation, a business – as though this definition is our contribution, our only way to have a place. We own it. We are proud of it.
And yet, there are times when our Name eclipses who we are. Crowds the process of becoming. And we need to let it go. Let go of the safety net that is our Name. Perhaps it is our cultural inheritance – a legacy of fear of being orphaned with no Name to call our own. In a world of carefully measured progress, “I don’t know” for full-grown adults is not an option but a crime worthy of rejection – Lost Souls whose potential dwindles with the memory of what once was. Continue Reading |
Birth-giving dark
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I want this darkness. I invite it in like a sister I never knew. Unfamiliar. Comforting. She stays with me as my story continues, as it opens, deepens, and moves me into unknown corridors.
Within those corridors, the Dark Mother is ahead of me. Crone Woman, Wise Woman, Mother Night, Mother Winter, Black Widow – weaver of words and time. I follow her, retrieving words from obscurity, revealing a story that wants to be born. Unearthing the story itself is a process of bringing thought into matter, dreams into consciousness. It is a process of restoring balance. Continue Reading |
Awakening
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Once I acknowledged “loneliness” and “isolation” as the guardians of the gate, I realized I had journeyed to a different part of my inner life, and began to feel myself transform.
Feelings rose up to my consciousness like oxygen bubbles from the deep – all the while, I kept my pen moving, capturing all that was entering my mind. Out there in nature, alone with my thoughts and a new set of survival skills, I began to own a part of myself that I’d previously rejected. Within that connection, an effortless creativity began to flow out of me, and the presence of Artemis began to awaken. Continue Reading |
Shedding my skin
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Our paths are different, but in that room I am not alone. As one woman holds the talking stick, her voice shaking from her pain, tears spilling from her eyes, streaking down her face, a heat forms in the base of my spine. The words "I hear you" form inside me. My silent prayer is passed on to the woman across from me, and yet, it is also meant for me, as each woman’s journey to her deepest truth moves me closer to my own.
The tears are spilled and gathered in our circle – a sacred pool anointing our fear, our pain; gathering our courage, our hope. Our collective journey ebbs and flows as the circle continues, rounding out as the talking stick makes its way. But still, a silence wells within me – something not yet touched, not yet spoken. What am I protecting? What is safe to speak? I look around the room and my silence holds me just above the truth I’ve come so far to face. What would it mean to be fully seen? Continue Reading |
Finding home
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Home is not a place, but a moment in time – the moment of connection with others and with myself. It’s the Saturday trips to the local vegetable market, and the mornings at our favourite weekend brunch spot. It was there with me on the beach at Georgian Bay when I stood knee-deep as the water lapped up and down my legs – reminding me that everything is mutable and that everything is change.
Home is not a cottage, a house, or the city in which I live. It is the moment when I am fully present and fully alive. It is when I am aware of myself and the love that surrounds me, of where I come from and who I am. Continue Reading |