Painting With My Dead Friend
Holly, a dear friend of mine, died last summer. She was a writer and a creative soul in many ways, including artmaking of all kinds. She was an imaginative free spirit who appreciated the unconventional. So her art was usually quirky. Self-taught, she didn’t often...Images of Insecurity
Until a few days ago I was at a retreat center in upstate New York. Twenty women and the facilitator, Jalaja Bonheim, came together for a week, experiencing the powerful geometry of the circle, allowing sacred space and silence to fortify us and help us move from...Happy Birthday
My birthday was ten days ago. Miraculously, the weather was lovely that day—sunny, highs in the 70s, low humidity. Highly unusual for that date. My birthday almost always falls on one of those insufferably hot, humid and airless midsummer days familiar to Minnesotans....A Poem for the Fourth of July Weekend
In the Fourth of July Parade Right down the middle of main street the woman with the long red braids and fairy wings strapped to her back rode a unicycle more than two times taller than she was—rode it with balance and grace, her arms stretched out, as if...Lesson from a Horse: Part II
Last year at this time I went to a daylong personal growth workshop with horses. In these workshops horses are not ridden; participants touch, lead and observe them. Powerful, gentle and extremely sensitive, horses are excellent mirrors because they attune to what our...Share This Post
Welcome to Whisperings
“There is a place where words are born of silence,
A place where the whispers of the heart arise.”
— Rumi
I will ponder here what whispers to me in the silence. I’d love for you to whisper back; maybe we will all get clearer—or maybe, like in the old kids’ game of “telephone” we will end up somewhere else entirely (which would be fun too)
