I am calling in beautiful, vibrant women who believe that magic is all around us, powerful, exquisite magic. How else to explain the acorn that becomes the oak, the monarch that migrates 2500 miles, the unfolding of the perfect petal. I am calling in glorious, powerful women who believe in…

I feel the pressure to write something. Not just any something, but something brilliant, insightful, true. My props are here, paper, pen, coffee. I wait for inspiration. Yet, as I sit here, I smell the double crown daffodils in the vase next to me. I feel the ache in my…

Slowly, she whispers, feel into me slowly. I am a miracle and yet you are ignorant. I am not your accomplishment or your achievement. Know me, slowly. The miracle of a million functions a day, every day. That you sleep and rise, eat and digest, feel pain and pleasure, warnings…

It only hurts for a moment as she strikes. Her fangs sinking into my wrist. The venom hot and cold as it runs like a river through my bloodstream. In moments it hits my heart and it is like riding the rapids. …

He made my day. — I’d barely posted part one of this story, when there was already more to tell. It had been a few days since our last communication and I had that “butterflies in my tummy” feeling, wondering when, or if, I’d hear more. Already I had decided that a dinner date was…

A Bubble of Sacred on an Ordinary Day My wooden steps were on the brink of collapsing, and a construction crew finally showed up last week to replace them. As they were getting set up, all I could think of was how relieved I was they were finally here. …

I am on parallel paths. Yet they are diverging. — Not sure how to move forward. After six decades, my right is so comfortable and sure-footed. My left, unsure, confused. Can’t quite remember how to move forward unbound. I am asking them to align, to move in synchronicity. As partners. But how? I feel paralyzed. I move about in my…

Find the rhythm to our life — It is coming. The next shift. The next movement in this thing that is my life. It starts to take shape. A figure rising from the mist. It has to do with putting the writing out there, the words out there, in a ‘bigger’ way. I rush to give it…

Smooth shadows of silk brush along her legs. She is seven years old and her mother has finished sewing her first gown. It is pale blue with silver pleats and feels like butterflies against her legs. She looks in the mirror and preens at the image. …