“I regard monks and poets as the best degenerates in America. Both have a finely developed sense of the sacred potential in all things; both value image and symbol over utilitarian purpose or the bottom line; they recognize the transformative power hiding in the simplest things, and it leads them to commit absurd acts: the poem! the prayer! what nonsense! In a culture that excels at creating artificial, tightly controlled environments (shopping malls, amusement parks, chain motels), the art of monks and poets is useless, if not irresponsible, remaining out of reach of commercial manipulation and ideological justification.”  –Kathleen Norris,

My birthday is tomorrow which always gives me pause for reflection, as a midway point in the year. About eight years ago, when I was visiting Santa Fe, I had my astrological chart done for fun. My aunt had recommended a psychic she knew working there, and so having just finished my first year of a stressful doctoral program, I treated myself to something different. I was absolutely amazed what this woman knew about me from reading my chart. I gained much more respect for the art of astrology, far more complex than those horoscopes in the newspaper lead you

My husband and I are on vacation in Kauai, an island formed from lava rising out of the sea over 5 million years ago. We drove up to Waimea Canyon, a gorge that was called the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific” by Mark Twain. As you gaze onto the walls of red rock you can see the layers of volcanic activity over those millions of years. Standing there in the presence of this ancient grandness evokes in me tremendous awe and humility. We also get to watch giant green sea turtles swimming in the bay outside of our condo window,

“If we were to abuse our children, Social Services would show up at our doors. If we were to abuse our pets, the Humane Society would come to take us away. But there is no Creativity Patrol or Soul Police to intervene if we insist on starving our own souls.” (Women Who Run With Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, 318) What are the things that most deeply nourish your soul? Do you allow yourself to indulge in this soul nourishment daily? If not, why not? What kind of citation would the Creativity Police write for you?

Last Friday night I was with my women ministers’ circle, a wonderful place of support in my life.  Our theme for the evening was sharing about our foremothers and telling stories about the women who came before us and showing pictures if we had them.  It stirred in me several levels of revelation about the role of ancestral longings in my life. My maternal grandmother Faith was sadly a joyless and bitter woman.  She died when I was 24 with my grandfather by her side, tending to all of her needs as pancreatic cancer ate away at her body.  I