For too many days...

For too many days I have not written of what stirs my soul. I have not confessed to the simple pleasures that make up my days. Things like… The soft fur of my golden cat as he greets me with his purring ballet. Sweet whispers and the tender touch of my beloved. Crisp winter air on my skin as daylight meets dark. Luminaries surrounding the lake. Laughter of friends mixed with the jingle of Christmas bells and off-key carols. Twinkling lights amidst the smell of freshly cut evergreen. Gastronomical delights like chicken and waffles turned into art and fat luscious noodles from Tommy’s kitchen. My daughter sleeping safely in her bed. The joy of my sister as she creates her art. Magic and mystery. Music. Dance. Delight.

For too many days now I have not written of what darkens my heart. Frigid rain that persists and chills me to the core. An empty space beside me. Silent friendships and those gone stale. My child in a cold stone cell. Unanswered messages. Aimless thoughts. Hunger and starvation. Loneliness and longing.

For too many days now I haven’t written of Hope, the candle that leads my way – not like birthday flames on a resplendent cake, but rather the single shimmer in the darkest night. Hope in the midst of sorrow. Hope that stirs the pot of joy buried deep within my belly. Hope that gets me out of bed on the gloomiest days, and Hope that leads me like a floodlight on stage when I follow my true passion.

For too many days I have not written of this season that stirs my soul in a multitude of ways. This season of darkness. This season of Hope. In this glorious season may we each reach for peace within and goodwill toward all. May our souls be stirred with delight alongside the acknowledgement of darkness. May we come to know that Hope abides in all who choose to truly live.

For too many days I have not… How might you respond?

photo © KSH - Santa Fe Tree

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 23

Dragonfly Wisdom

Dragonfly. Damselfly. You swoop into my world unannounced. Subtle. Natural. Compelling. Dancing across the silken pond, offering me respite from my restless perch. Witnessing you in your natural habitat, it's easy to dismiss your powerful medicine. Still, you persist on your quest as you serendipitously meet me in the gem store. One tiny bead buried in the midst of thousands, you place yourself within my hand and heart - a talisman of our magical first meeting. Still, I am slow and don't consciously take notice until finally while I repose upon my landlocked deck, you spontaneously arrive and perform your splendid show in my barren yard.

You come in threes and fours until I can ignore you no more. Showing up brilliantly alive, in a bead, a word, a wing. You draw me in and tell me I can fly. It's time to spread my wings and share your light. The rainbow of colors - clear, dark, iridescent, solid and clear. Reflections deep and pure.

Oh, sweet dragonfly - subtle and not so shy. Thank you for your persistent wisdom. Is it just me who takes so long to recognize and hear what lies right along my path?

Today's Ponder inspired by Helice B. "Animal Totems." Thanks, Helice!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 13

VISUAL PONDER...


Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

Labyrinth of Life

I’ve been away from this page too long, so today I invite you on a literal and metaphorical journey through the labyrinth of my life. This past month I have stepped through many doors, beginning with a weekend I spent with my grad school buddies. Together, we have been through thick and thin. We’ve discovered our mothers, hated them, loved them and become mothers ourselves. We have filled and emptied our nests. Buried our parents. We’ve become grandmothers, new moms and orphans. We’ve laughed hysterically, wept relentlessly and grown beyond our narrow boundaries. Our hearts have been like melting chocolate, swirling and fading in steaming milk. Comfort brings us home.

This month I have relived the birth of my son and his life of disarray. What can I even say? I’ve held him in my arms and he in mine, and so the journey goes… There is green, new life and growth. The touch of a hand. Swirling life around the edges. The roots of messiness piercing the whimsy of freedom, brilliance and light. I can feel it as I spin around the side. A new song, starry night, candles in the wind and paper umbrellas in a magical sky. (Phoenix remembered). Stripes of brilliance and color smash up against the gray of despair. Grief is always near. The cup of celebration teases me and then disappears as I round the corner to more light and celebration.

Petals of white greet me before being pierced by the messiness of more necessary growth. My hands hold it all as witness to the brokenness and darkness that is both parenthood and childhood. The path continues. I cannot stop now. Will I open or close my eyes to despair? I choose to feel the life that comes from releasing emotion. Light and dark blur together until I can’t tell which is which, and still life dances around the edges and angels offer me the cup of salvation as the center reveals it all – light, shadow & life. The embers glow and beckon me to continue the journey.

Golden light leads the way out. Fresh pink and spring green remind me that roots are essential and seeds grow into strong trees. (A sister. A friend.) Closed eyes offer prayer and meditation as they touch the heart within. (A workshop.) The shadows hold new life and there is nourishment in the messiness. Roots point the way to sweet nectar. (A prom & more.) Celebrate. Celebrate where you’ve been – the darkness – the brilliance – the new song of swirling life. Take in the colors and shapes that are this life. Hold them all. Celebrate birth and death. They all lie within your beautiful perfect heart. Amen.

labyrinth collage - designed & created by KSH 6.2011

Get Your Shine On!

"See how far the little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world." -- William Shakespeare

Western philosophy has taught that suffering is a normal state of life on earth. Enjoyment is something reserved for children, retirees or hedonists. If we're super busy then we are important. If we work limitless hours and don't have an extra moment then we're successful. If we feel really good about ourselves then we must be slacking off in another area. Striving toward perfection is a noble goal, but one that must be minimized with humility and false modesty.

Bottom Line? This line of thinking is flawed and in my humble opinion, a bunch of hooey. I am a sincere believer that we are all created perfectly and joy is our natural state of well-being. Over the course of life our perfection gets marred with expectations of what others think and then our own minds take over and we become mired in a world of "I could never" or "If only." We get stuck in mediocrity and our brilliance loses its shine.

What if our mission in life became to return to our original perfection? What if we were called to peel off the layers of expectation and ultimately gleam in all our glory and return to a childlike state of joy? I invite you to take a moment and play with the following statements: First allow yourself to ingest this... I am a worthless person who doesn't deserve anything. Notice how that proclamation sits in your body. Now, try this one on: I am a glorious creation designed to bring beauty and light to the world. Can you feel the difference?

Wouldn't life be more enjoyable and fulfilling if you lived as a glorious creation rather than a worthless nobody? The key is to trust your felt experience. Seriously, it's OK. If a thought causes you suffering then it isn't true. (This doesn't refer to tangible pain from physical injury or grief over actual loss.) Suffering is that suffocating, deadening, hopelessness that keeps you stuck in circumstances. It is not to be confused with the wild, sometimes raw and exhilarating excitement that comes from letting your inner self shine and living into the person you were created to be.

Think about it. What will you choose? Mediocrity or brilliance?

Ready to move toward brilliance? diamonds in the soul invites you to Get Your Shine On today.

Celebrate St. Brigid

Today is the feast day of St. Brigid of Kildare. I can feel her flame burning in my heart and the warmth of my dear friend’s embrace as we stand on the holy ground of Brigid’s well. St. Brigid of fire and water, you are a kindred spirit kindling the flame. My flame of passion and fire burn strong. A passion for life and living it to the fullest - not just watching the days go by, but truly embracing them.

Certainly there are times when my flame simmers rather than blazes. A time of tending in the night as when the Celtic women put their fire to rest – minding the fire so it could and would be rekindled at the break of day. How do I tend my fire? Today with an early rising – allowing time and space. (A fire needs space to breathe, or it suffocates when the wood is packed too closely.) A hot shower and steaming coffee warm me inside and out. The lamp’s glow illuminates my surroundings. And in my heart, I hold warm memories of standing at Kildare with the spirit of dear St. Brigid.

“May the blessing of light be on you, light without and light within. May the blessed sunlight shine upon you and warm your heart till it glows like a great peat fire, so that the stranger may come and warm himself/herself at it, and also a friend. And may the light shine out of the eyes of you, like a candle set in the windows of a house, bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.” --Irish Blessing

Peace be with you on this feast day of St. Brigid of Kildare. May the fire in your own heart be illumined and warmed today and always.

© St. Brigid - 2009

Bullies in Disguise

Layers and layers of discovery. I move. I rest. I pause. The layers shift and morph. Refining my way toward freedom. Awhile back I had a memory arise and while I’m not sure it’s an actual event, I don’t know why I would have made it up – unless, of course, I needed it to help me with something else.

The scene is pretty precise. I’m 6 years old and in the first grade. I’m in the narrow cloak closet at school and we’ve just come in from recess. I can smell the damp coats and feel someone behind me pressing my face into them. It’s another child, I’m certain. I can’t breathe. A vise-like grip deepens on the sides of my throat – pudgy fingers, I think. My fear tightens as a knee or elbow presses into my spine, stuffing my face further into the darkness of the fabric. The bully tells me to “Stay quiet, or else.” My nostrils fill with the acrid smell of wet wool. I want to scream, but my mouth is buried and the words won’t come. Suddenly, there’s a flurry of activity and the grip releases, the pressure comes out of my back. I’m alone and disheveled in the closet. No real harm, right?

The metaphor to my life is immense. The internal struggles over voice, aloneness and importance are core. They are battles I’ve been peeling the layers off for years. They move and shift and morph. Recently, I’ve had a grown-up bully attempting to put the vise-like grip on my authentic self. (S)he came disguised as someone who wanted my help (which is very seductive for a caregiver.) How long would I allow the knee to press into my back and stifle the scream rising in my chest? It wasn’t until I invited this person to leave that clarity came and I felt the relief of speaking up for what I wanted and needed. The pressure released and I was not alone.

This week in my Advent retreat, we are pondering what it means to say, “Yes.” What is the risk? Will you say yes to your longings? For a moment just ponder the danger of continually saying, “No” to your heart’s desire.

Risk

What does it mean to ask for what I want?

I asked and I received.

Writing. Reading. Creating.

Say Yes!

I asked and I received.

Don’t limit.

Say Yes!

The shadow is the bully.

Don’t limit

My writing, reading, creating.

The shadow is the bully.

What does it mean to ask for what I want?

Kooky Space

Advent has begun. I find myself in a kooky space - in a place of expansion and community AND in a time when I am called to simply Be. There's my word again, BE... BEE... The bee is a long-time symbol of accomplishing the impossible. How does one wait in the darkness and shine in the heavens... simultaneously?

I'm called to be in community and I'm called to be in contemplation. I'm called to shine and I long to sit in the darkness - waiting in the shadows - percolating - ripening in the womb. Yes, Advent carries a theme of birthing. Does not the fetus ripen within the womb? Did not Mary say, "Yes" and then wait? We wait. I wait.

Mt. Sinai

Two weeks ago today, I climbed the Mountain - Mt. Sinai. In many ways it was a focal part of this journey - not always for me, but often in the telling for others. It is a place people can imagine in their minds and possibly connect or relate. It's the place where folklore says Moses received the Ten Commandments. It's a destination even those who don't know much about the Bible recognize. The climb is physical, so athletes and adventurers see the appeal to it. It's the place I often mentioned when talking of going to the desert, "I'm going to climb Mt. Sinai."... and so I did. Yet each time I think of it, I remember foremost the drudgery and the day doesn't float to the top of my memory list from the trip.

Today, however, it is the place I am called to write about. I made a collage for that day the night before we climbed and this morning when I looked at that small piece, I heard in my soul, "It was hard AND there was Freedom." Each stone below my foot a reminder to pay attention. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Focusing on balance and presence to keep myself safe on the rocky terrain. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Each stone a reminder of those who go before me today, tomorrow, yesterday. Heel, toe, heel, toe. One foot in front of the other all the way up and all the way down for eight-plus hours. (An interesting side line - when I first wrote "heel, toe, etc.", it came out "heal, toe". I haven't quite decided which spelling is correct...)

Why do I recall the drudgery of this mountain? The Freedom looked different than I expected. So, what did I expect? A mountain top experience, of course! Silly me. Each day is a mountain top yet somehow I've managed to forget that regarding Mt. Sinai. Still, the words "Take off your shoes for you are standing on holy ground" come to my mind. Here is my journal entry from that evening:

"In you we are bound to one another, linked by threads seen and unseen, destined for love in eternity, when all that has been decayed is restored." J. Cotter

Today we pilgrims climbed the mountain - ten in reality and four in spirit with countless others around the world through space and time holding us in prayer. Our dear Sister J led the way as she mounted her camel before dawn (4:30 a.m.) to meet us @ Camelot for sunrise. Like a regal princess warrior in the moonlight, I dubbed her Queen of Sheba.

I didn't particularly like this day until I started connecting the threads through the eyes of my fellow pilgrims. The day started with laughter as my roommate's barking dog alarm sounded, followed quickly by my revving motorcycle @ 3:30 a.m. They were sharp sounds in this monastic environment and the silliness of it combined with the early hour and probably our own excitement sent us into giggling fits.

Our group met in the courtyard just before 4:00 a.m. The sun was still asleep, but the brilliant autumn moon glowed in the darkness. We were saddened to learn we would be two pilgrims short for the trek, however, comforted by the place they would hold for us at the foot of the mountain. Later as the pieces wove together, I knew their prayers were pivotal in our experience and they were with us every step of the way. Quietly, Dr. Rabia walked us to the edge of the monastery (which sits cradled at the base of the mountain) and then our guide, Hussein, took over.

With a waning moon of just over 1/2 full, our path was lit with no need for our flashlights and so the threads began. Our pace was slow - almost painfully so at first. I had to check in with myself and heed my inner voice that said, "Hurry up. Get going." Others must have been feeling the same thing, because one of our spiritual guides reminded us of how often excitement can get in our way and going at a steady pace would serve us well.

The serpentine of pilgrims slowly wound our way up and around the rocky paths and for what seemed like hours, we didn't even know which peak we were attempting to ascend. These mountains are layered upon each other, tucked together, making it impossible from the base to tell one from the other. They are unlike my home mountain of Rainier that stands like sentry for miles over the surrounding land.

There was a party of Greek pilgrims staying at St. Catherine's, too, who made the climb at midnight. They began to dribble by and pass us on their way down along with Bedouins and their camels offering rides to weary travelers. At times I considered taking a ride to break the dull monotony of walking so slowly on the dusty trail. We passed one ramshackle snack shack and then another until we met Sr. J in Camelot* @ Abraham's Tent for coffee, tea and the breakfast we carried in our backpacks. We had been climbing for just over two hours. (*Lest you miss the humor, Camelot is the highest place on the mountain that camels can ascend... thus this is their parking lot. It would be many more narrow steps before we reached the actual summit.)

As we sat on the worn Bedouin blankets, snacking on bread rolls, cheese, honey, apricot jam and hard-boiled eggs, the sun made its appearance over the horizon. Layers of color tinted the air as dawn turned into day and outlines of mountain peaks materialized before our eyes. The sounds of Bedouin chatter, belching camels and other pilgrims danced in the air, punctuated by the occasional whistle of a bird. More than once someone said aloud, "Can you believe it? We're here on Mt. Sinai watching the sunrise!"

On the not-so-romantic side, after breakfast we found ourselves making necessary treks to the WC (water closet sans water), where we thanked God for our strong thigh muscles and mothers who had taught us at an early age to squat and hold our nose all at the same time. After our "ablutions," we gathered inside the tent for our morning liturgy. This was one of my absolute favorite moments of the day. As we began to set the space, our host, Abraham, graciously offered a beautiful cloth and spread it on our altar of well-worn wood. It was a piece both stunning in its magical appearance and the contrast of the rich tapestry inside a makeshift teahouse. Our host's humble gesture taught us all much about hospitality and how beauty permeates the most unexpected places.

The threads of our journey continued as our sacristans lit one candle and generously offered it around the circle. From the small flame, we each inhaled and breathed its precious gifts. My mind drifted back to St. Bridget's well in Ireland and my holy time with another pilgrim where I then, as now, was overcome with emotion and blessings offered without words. Following the ritual of the fire, poetry, scripture and our song leader's voice filled the air. My heart burst with joy at the immensity of this simple gathering and the awareness we were meeting together in a Bedouin tent - pilgrims in the desert - much as it could have been in the time of Moses. We were united where thousands - perhaps millions - of others had gathered for centuries. "Take off your shoes for surely this is holy ground." Giggles escaped my throat as the camel's guttural noises punctuated the Holy silence. Amen. Blessed be.

Why is it not this moment that comes first to my mind when I think of Sinai? Perhaps it will be now. Perhaps I just needed to dust the sand off my memories and remember that this morning on Mt. Sinai I walked on holy ground.

This holy day, I invite you to consider what memories of your own may beckon to have the dust removed. Take off your shoes for surely this ground is holy. Amen. Blessed be.

photos ©lucy

• pre-climb collage/journal page
• Sr. J & her steady mount
• view from Camelot
• sunrise on Mt. Sinai
• pilgrim C & Hussein
  

Leavin' on a jet plane

The heavy is the root of the light.

The unmoved is the source of all movement.


Thus the Master travels all day


without leaving home.


However splendid the views,


she stays serenely in herself.

Lao-Tzu, Tao de Ching
(found at Whatever else my life is...)

My bags are packed. I'm ready to go. Oh, goodness. I'm channeling John Denver. The sillies and giggles are taking over about now. When I read the above quote at Rebecca's site, I could not help but think of my own trip. As I consider "the heavy is the root of the light," I realize all that has gone before to bring me to this place. Years of heaviness and weight has somehow been transformed into amazing groundedness.

When I think of going to Ireland, I imagine the cliffs and the air so thin between heaven and earth that you can reach out and touch the ancestors who have gone before us. I feel the air holding me and lifting me like a feather. I feel like I can float away on the wings of the wind. Perhaps I shall. Still, I know the "heavy" will hold me. It will balance the light. There is freedom in being grounded. There is movement in the unmoved. I could stay inside the four walls of my own home and "travel all day". Today, however, I'm leavin' on a jetplane. Don't know when I'll be back again. (There's John Denver again. Do you think he's Irish?) Like I said, goosebumps and giggles have taken over my body and I am light as a feather. I feel like I could fly to Ireland without the plane.

Stay tuned for updates along the way. They won't be prime time, but they'll have to do.

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane -- John Denver

Sacred Sunday: Walkin' on Sunshine

I love Sunday mornings. Lingering. Journaling. Taking time and space for me to see what rises up. Images - visual and written stir through my mind. The past week gone. The next not yet here. I sit in the sacred present. Only now.

Candlelight and gentle music. Fan blowing. Family sleeping. Coffee, hot and warm by my side. “Live with Passion.” Yes. Choose life. Choose me. Images call my name. Some already gathered. The girl in the pink sweater. She beckoned to me while I was preparing for my workshop. She was mine. Held in space until just the right time.

“Walkin’ on Sunshine.” My day yesterday. My life now. Inseparable from the universe. One moment folds into the next. Grounded. Whole. Light and airy. Held by the hand of God. The hands of my father. My ancestors.

Walking towards Ireland. Walking toward myself. I hold on and I move forward. With trepidation, not fear. Quivering, undulating movement. The pendulum of my grounded heart swings. The souls (soles) of my feet dance and move and walk on sunshine… with sunshine… through sunshine.

I am sunshine. Lucy of the light. Illuminated and free. My passion glowing and growing for others to see. I am Norah – the one of compassion. And Lil – life’s beauty. They surround me. Bold and emboldened.

The past and present collide and unite with the girl in the pink sweater. Head tossed back and laughing with glee. Trusting. Trusted. Held. Safe in the arms of my father and my mother. Grounded. They offered so much. Did their best. Healed me. Broke me. Made me.

Skipping and dancing, I share my light. My unique image of God. Belly full. Day arising. Lovely. Beautiful. Creating and created.

generous and gentle

"Light is incredibly generous,
but also gentle.
When you attend to the way the dawn comes,
you learn how light can coax the dark.
The first fingers of light appear on the horizon,
and ever so deftly and gradually,
they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world."

John O'Donohue - Anam Cara

Me and My Shadow

"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar...
"I - I hardly know, Sir, just at present," Alice replied rather shyly, "at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then."

--Lewis Carroll Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Discoveries from a recent photo journey. These images were taken in preparation to facilitate a group of women in an exploration of light and shadow. I co-lead this group with the lovely Christine who has graciously dedicated her poetry party this week to me. My offering can be found here.

The cat's tail moves in perfect harmony with its shadow. Does my shadow move in perfect harmony to me?

Could these wings fly?

Filigreed Concrete

Crossroads?

Shadowed Green

Have you ever considered your relationship with light and shadow? Do you favor one over the other? Consider taking a photo journey of your own. See where you are drawn. Come back and share what you've discovered! My shadow and I will be anxiously awaiting!!

six words...& more

Living in Paradox
Integration is Hard

This morning I spent some time pondering the wonderful book, Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs. The above words are what popped out for me today. I realize I could exchange the words “living in paradox” with “light and dark”; “full or empty”; “fire and water”; “me and God”, etc. I think you get the picture. Living a life of paradox is all of those things… “difficult and simple”… the list is never-ending.

My past several weeks have been all of the above and more. Lots of wrestling going on. In more than one context the question of whether or not it is “better” or “less painful” or “more glorious” to have insight has come into conversation.

While walking this morning these words came to me. “The bigger the light, the larger the shadow.” So, if I am indeed FIRE…BIG FIRE. What kind of shadow will I cast? If the pendulum swings far into sadness will not the law of physics swing it to the same degree of joy and back again?

So what of integration? How do we live fully into joy and sadness without getting whiplash from swinging back and forth? If our eyes are open, we see not only the amazing beauty of the simplest pleasure, but also the great depth of pain that pervades the world.

I sit in a time of letting go. Every birth is a death of something else. (Today is my beautiful boy's birthday). Every death means a new way of existing is being created. (Two weeks ago was the 5 year anniversary of my mother's death). Six weeks ago, I left a job I have loved. This weekend was shared with wonderful friends. Last week was time well-spent with amazing women including my fabulous sister. Like I said, lots of wrestling. Lots of joy. Lots of sorrow. Integration is hard. Six word memoirs? Six word responses? I’ve missed these conversations and look forward to hearing from YOU!

Sun & Sixteen

One of the greatest gifts in life can be having a friend who knows you well. You wonder and ponder whether they were with you in another life or silently observing you throughout the years. You experience those moments when you say, "how did you know?", But then it doesn't really matter does it, because they have seen deeply into your being, and to know and be known needs no response at all.

The following poem was gifted to me this week from one of those wonderfully amazing friends. Were she and the poet laying on the grass beside me? I wonder...
Thank you, C.

The Sun Lover

The long afternoon after church

a girl lies on the lawn,

glazed thighs slightly parted,

fingers splayed like petals. At sixteen

she is a virgin. While her parents nap

in the quiet house, she knows

the sun is teaching her about love,

how it comes over your body

making every muscle go soft

in its pitiless gaze,

how it penetrates everything,

changing you into something dark

and radiant. She craves it,

knows it is everywhere like God’s love,

but difficult to find. She waits,

entirely still, trying to see her eyelids–

not lingering traces, but the lids themselves

luminous and red as the cheeks of the kid

who stuck a flashlight in his mouth at camp.

She squints so the tips of her lashes

flash like iridescent fish scales.

Every hour, she turns over but prefers

to face the sun. All her life

she’ll measure loves against this

gentle ravishing. She’ll spend afternoons

alone on crowded beaches, and at home

stand naked before mirrors, amazed

by the pale shape of her suit. She’ll touch

her cheekbones’ tingling pink, and nip

at her lover’s shoulders, as if

it were earth she were after.

-Julia Kasdorf

photo of me at 16

it's st. lucy's day!!!

Today is the feast day of Saint Lucia. "In Sweden, Denmark, Estonia, Norway and Finland, Lucy (called Lucia) is venerated on December 13 in a ceremony where an elected girl, portraying Lucia, walks, with a crown of candles, ahead of a procession of other women holding a candle each. The candles symbolize the fire that refused to take St. Lucia's life when she was sentenced to be burned."

Today is a great day to read The Tale of Lucy. The "Lucy's" in my life represent metaphor and grace beyond explanation!

Today is a very special day for me and I plan to write more about it later. In the meantime, I hope that you will celebrate the light that lucy brings into the darkness.

in memory of allyson

"I am a tear of the sun." --Lawrence Ferlinghetti from the poem, "Autobiography"

While traveling this week, I learned that a young friend & coworker of mine died suddenly due to complications with a brain aneurysm. It is so hard to understand when anyone dies, but especially those who seem to go "too soon." Allyson Thrift would have turned 34 years old tomorrow. Today I dedicated my journey and adventures to her. It was a day filled with tears and delight. I hope she would have liked it. These are for you, Ally.

stained glass at notre dame

saint joan d'arc

the center candle was lit for allyson at notre dame (next to joan d'arc)


silhouette at pere lachaise

sunset over the seine

Let There Be Light

Last week Hearth Talks wrote a post called It's all about the Light. The word 'light' has been dancing and playing in and out of my life more and more, so for some reason I saved my response to Sister Kathryn and wanted to share it here today.

I will be gone for the next several days, hopefully spreading light with others and more importantly helping them find their own light as I help facilitate a workshop for Soltura. If you are a praying person, please consider keeping the women who will be journeying together in this soul searching work in your prayers. Good thoughts are also welcome.☺


Now, here is my comment in response to It's all about the Light:

"ah, yes, the light...an image that daily becomes closer to my heart and soul. it is a reawakening to something that has been present all my life, but was "hidden under a bushel" of shame and silence. a couple of years ago, a friend gave me the gift of "lucy". originally, it was as a reminder to me of the times when i get quite prickly and appear not so kind. it was a gift because it was to remind me that my true essence is one of kindness and joy not bitchiness, etc.

only last december...december 12 to be exact (the feast day of st. lucia) did i learn that lucy means light.

yes, the light is dear to my heart. it is a gift that keeps on giving. thank you for this beautiful reminder!"

Wishing you Light in the coming days!

sunset at shilshole bay by bill