ONE day, all that remains

Journey toward the Longest Night

Join a tribe of women cultivating virtue on the journey to the Longest Night…

Journey with the Chakras

sacred-circle

Join an online gathering of women
on a journey toward the Longest Night

In this online circle of women, you’ll gather with kindred spirits who are drawn to the practice of self-awareness, compassion and consciousness. The yogic virtues will serve as our companion and guide. This seven-week, seven-chakra contemplative writing practice will shape a sangha (a communion) of hearts in a journey of inner preparation for the Longest Night.

Timing:

Circle opens: The week of October 30 with the dark of the New Moon when the veils between the worlds are thin.

Circle completes: The week of December 18 with the light of the Full Moon as we approach Winter Solstice/Longest Night.

Women:

This online circle is open to all women, regardless of age, location or yoga/writing/circle/chakra experience. Reflection, sharing and response will take place on the password protected pages of The Journey with the Chakras web pages…

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30 Days without Facebook

I love reading that friends are taking Facebook sabbaticals. Their choice reminds me of mine in June, and reminds me of the choice in everything, and the spaciousness too.

This Vermont Life

Observing desire
without acting on it
enlarges our freedom
to choose
how
we live.

~Tara Brach

vermont-road-sign-300x199

We came to Vermont for the clean air, the heightened perspective, the depth of thought and consciousness.

We gave up cable long before we arrived.

Once here, in a town without a traffic light, we learned to live with even less distraction. To embrace silence. Early nights. Slow reads. Pillow talk. Sleep.

Then came the internet.

The web expanded our horizons, enriched our conversations, increased our opportunity, and fractured our attention.

The single screen in the den was replaced by individual screens, of all sizes, in each pair of hands, in every room, at every hour, on workdays and weekends and holidays.

Family time, once incidental, now needed to be scheduled and rescheduled and relinquished in favor of independent pleasures. Moments passing and glancing at each others screens. Morning spaciousness obsolete. Bedtimes later. Pillow…

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Sexiest Pajamas

Girls. Role Models. 70s.

Kelly & Lila

When I was a girl, we moved from the East Coast to the Rockies when I was still a Brownie. My new best friend and nextdoor neighbor Liz wasn’t a Girl Scout, she was a Southern Baptist.  Liz went to her church with her family, and I rode the school bus with my younger sisters to another church while our parents slept in.

Mom was an ex-Catholic, and Dad was an Agnostic. They said church was good for us. I read the Bible every night. My very own. It was present for my 8th birthday. (I begged for it.) It had a green leather cover and a tie dye label that (still) reads: KELLY SALASIN–in capitals–which I spelled out, letter by letter, and then printed, with my very first label maker.

Ruth was my favorite book. I read it again and again. Just saying Ruth releases a…

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for my “sisters”

The Feminine, Divine
taking me by hand…

Kelly & Lila

The day we buried our mother. 8 sisters & a much beloved brother (with a newborn on my lap.)

Dear Robin, Michelle, Stephanie, Bonnie, Lauren and April,

It was this week, 15 years ago, our baby sister called to say, “I think Mom is having a seizure.”

That she called me, 300 miles away, instead of 911, was testimony to her tender age, and to our strong connection.

mom's program Our beloved mother.

48 hours earlier, I left them at the shore, to return to my home in Vermont, for the last weeks of my pregnancy. Mom would die when Aidan was just over month old.

She was the one who taught me about synchronicities, which is what brought me to write this letter to you, today–Father’s Day, Solstice, and the International Day of Yoga–an alchemy of consciousness.

I’ve just finished reading Jean Shinoda Bolen’s book, Urgent Message from MOTHER. Her …

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Tales from the Diner

Women & voice. Begin HERE. And don’t stop…

Ice Cream for Dinner

I have a secret. I have kept it for years. It is the kind of secret that you don’t dare tell, if not for fear of the possible consequences, for fear that no one will listen. Both outcomes are unwelcome and damaging in their own right.

My friends and I have shared this secret and all its grisly details over eager sips of coffee after long overnight shifts, our voices heightened in our rage and our exhaustion. I had hurriedly whispered conversations with my coworkers during hasty smoke breaks and bathroom trips. These were girls with whom I had nothing in common – save our employment and our secret. Sometimes we exploded. Sometimes we wept.

It is not that I am weary from this business of silence; I have not broken. But I realize now that I have no reason to let my anger lie dormant. The injustice has become unpalatable.

For…

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