Monthly Archives: July 2014

Turning to the light

In the days following the end of this project I walked around like a ghost.

Not quite sure of how to proceed without the The Year bringing focus to my days

I took long walks through my favorite field

played with Rev, Zander, and Wil

and wondered why I felt so lost.

It took at least a week to replace even one article of black clothing with color.

And when I did, it was a blue green shirt

the color of a warm sea,

or Robins’ eggs

or the ancient beads of turquoise my dear friend sent Revel

for protection

upon his birth.

When I wore black every day
I felt safe

Supported by the fact that people could recognize I was different in some way

Set apart from the other mothers in their bright colors, pinks, purples, and greens

the black was an outward sign of my sadness within. A recognition that something is terribly wrong.

But now, dressed in corals and golds, and greens and blues,

I look totally normal,

nothing to show my endless grief

or the lost ones that are burned into my heart.

But I could wear black for the rest of my life,

like a shadow, the new moon, a dark night,

and it wouldn’t change a thing,

wouldn’t bring back the ones we’ve lost, wouldn’t stop this madness from swallowing up the world.

So I’m turning to the light.

Like the first spring tendrils reaching for the sun.

Finding solace in the herbs and plants growing outside my door,

covering hillsides and meadows,

spilled across the thick and fertile forest floor.

I’m busy making remedies, mixing and stirring, crushing and brewing, cloaked in the heady perfume of wild ginger, yarrow and bergamot, bee balm, lemon balm, and valerian root.

It is a comfort spending time with friends from a world,

so much wiser than my own.

I’m using my hands to heal, using my hands to plant,

hoping to help my family and friends and community

get healthier so they will have the strength and energy to fight,

the battles that are coming,

the battles that are here


Yes it is hard to be alive at this time. Yes it is painful and sad and frightening and wrong.

But we are here. And is our job to be strong enough to stand up.

Kind enough to forgive weakness

and brave enough to fall in love.

With each other,

with ourselves

and with the wild.

You are not alone.

Remember it, and repeat it to yourself.

You are not alone.

You are part of something much larger than yourself.

Be strong.

There is a new day dawning.

I promise.

Thank you for listening,


bee balm

In the days since the end of this project, Liminal, my novella has been released for sale. Please buy a copy, read it and then pass it around. It can be purchased through the websites on the link, or directly from me. And I’ve started a small practice, “Womenfolk: Reiki and Herbs for Women.” To help myself and others mend the broken parts of ourselves.

You’re welcome to check out the links. And please, in your saddest and loneliest moments feel free to write to me for support. We are all struggling. It helps to share our stories. I am still here to listen. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your continued support!!!