Earth Day withdrawal

I might be sick, but I just slept more than I’ve slept in ages, and my eyes are tender for it, and it’s Earth Day, which is the first day I learned what it was to hold space–by doing–nothing.

25 years ago, I served on the committee planning the very first Earth Day Celebration in my county, but a handful of days ahead of the event, I miscarried, and so I spent it, not coordinating anything, like I did so well, but simply sitting, resting, in the middle of all the action.

I can still feel the odd surrender inside, the portal of new, uncomfortable growth, a band playing in front of me, people moving all about, me, irrelevant.

The older I get the more I respect the wisdom of the weary, the sick, the aged, the disabled.
The more I feel what happens to the Earth is happening to me.

I want to write something poignant today, but my head is too heavy so I’ll simply share my gratitude & respect for all those speaking/marching/shouting/teaching on behalf of the planet–clean, abundant water; pure air; healthy soil–upon which all life depends, and without which so many suffer.



Home in Vermont

“Eccentric,” a college classmate once accused me, “If not for that, you’d be successful.”

This Vermont Life

Almost as soon as I began to set my roots down in Vermont, a quarter-century ago, it began to change me. It wasn’t always pretty, and it was frequently painful, particularly given my level of resistance, and yet, I also gave myself to it–surrendered to these Green Mountains & brooks & black flies & breasts & babies and found myself inspired by the older sisters I never had–first the homesteaders and the healers, then the advocates and the activists, the mystics and the artists--sometimes younger than me, sometimes male, and always among them–fertile permission to live my life as art–which for me means moving forward in the dark of not knowing for sure.

“Eccentric,” a college classmate once accused me, “If not for that, you’d be successful.”

She may have been right, but I wouldn’t have been  “home” in that kind of success.

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MLK & me

dark of the moon…

Kelly & Lila

a long winter’s nap…

oh, that i, capped in my knit hat, could in this cold bed, sleep and sleep and sleep, until spring

until that day when this long dark night of democracy, so strangled of breath and warmth and light, finally flowers in fulfillment of its promise.

but wouldn’t i, in my sleeping, neglect all this sewing of love; and don’t i want to be a seamstress of our democracy? like the stories of Betsy Ross my father told, hoping to lend some icon of inspiration to his eager daughter in a world that offered her none

we lived just down the block from the liberty bell and independence hall where the declaration of our equal nation took flight without a single woman or man of other recognized

how too might i have lent my voice to jefferson’s pen?

my people, also called Jefferson, settled in this nation…

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Women writing their own stories

#meTOO #timesUP #goldenglobes

Chakra Journeys

I’ve been leading these Writing through the Chakra Journeys for women for a handful of years now without being entirely clear of the purpose, even while sensing it somewhere deep inside, particularly as women continue to enroll each season and even return, again and again, shaping their own meaning.

I feel such gratitude for each voice.

This morning, I searched for some clips from last night’s Golden Globe awards because I had heard that the #metoo movement would be front and center.

Although I have never read or watched The Handmaid’s Tale for fear it would be too chilling, I deeply appreciated Elizabeth Moss’s character in the series Madmen–as the secretary who became a copywriter–and so I leaned into her voice as she quoted author Margaret Atwood:

“We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print.”


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a woman’s journey through winter

Chakra Journeys

I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.

~Anna Akhmatova

art: Emily Wagner

Bright Solstice Greetings!

I wish you well this Solstice and invite you to join a circle of women journeying through winter together.

This online writing journey through the body’s energy centers opens mid-winter, with Brigid’s Day, the Goddess of poets and healers.

Each week brings a new invitation–a new chakra to explore inside you–on the path to the Vernal Equinox.

Each week also brings an opportunity to reflect on other’s voices, which is a gift of presence that blesses and informs the giver as much as the receiver.

You need not have any writing (or chakra) experience to participate and participation is flexible from week to week–you decide when and where and how much time to share.

The alchemy of women and the chakras…

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ONE day, all that remains