Moon Gatherings. Sisterhood Circles. Business Masterminds…
Can these get-togethers really make your life better? Or are they just another to-do on your calendar?
Let’s start with a resounding YES! (hear that echoing off tall buildings, short mountains, and bouncing off the rim of your coffee cup?). Being a part of a community can make your life richer and yummier. Simply basking in the glow of connection can heal a lot of hurts.
Each of these get-togethers serve different personal needs:
✦ Moon Gatherings are about ritual. They’re a joint space to set intentions and celebrate the cycles of the moon and the seasons.
✦ Sisterhood Circles are about being witnessed, heard, and held as you walk yourself through life’s more challenging moments.
But what if you’re feeling lost or confused or alone and want to harness the power of community to help you move forward? (more…)
One of the most beautiful lessons the natural world can teach us is that linear time is a human construct.
In nature, time is cyclical.
Around the world, people who know this use the symbol of the circle to show how time moves. Often times this circle is designed like a compass, thus combining the concept of time and place. The seasons are etched into the outer circle, while the inner circle— the center— is the place of spirit. This type of pictogram is called “wheel of the year” or, alternately, “the medicine wheel.”
You begin in the East where the sun rises.
You become in the South where light— that outward turning, always moving, yang energy— is strongest.
You learn to believe in the West, when you finally sink, like the sun, into yourself, coming to a bit of understanding.
And when the winter comes, when you curl around yourself like a wolf in its den, you face the North. Be still, the Earth whispers.
(Of course, all this gets turned on its head in the Southern Hemisphere.) (more…)
Forgive me if I’ve told you this story before; it’s one of my favorites and bears repeating:
A few decades back, I visited my Aunt and Uncle, who were working in Singapore. It was a long flight, first to Japan and from there into Changi Airport. My body was a mess of minor aches and twitches after 26 hours in the air.
My Aunt decided that I needed the yoga cure-all and took me to her favorite class, which was held on the cool marble floors of a meeting hall inside a Hindu temple. Four long woven mats were unfurled, striping the echoing space. We lined up on the mats, one behind the other, waiting for the yogi to take his place at the head of the room. (more…)
Graduation is a few days away and classes are over for the year.
(Yup, this is a flashback. If Oprah ever asks if every word is true, I won’t be able to say for certain. Memories soften, get a little fuzzy, and are often sweeter in the re-telling.
Truth? Oprah scares me. I once saw her interview a memoirist and ask if every word was accurate. Accuracy and memory are, at best, fraternal twins.
But I digress…)
Lying prone on a hillside in the arboretum, the grass pokes through the cotton blanket, tickling my stomach. (This was before Lyme Disease became part of my consciousness, back when I laid on the ground with abandon, worrying only about an occasional ant.) The scent of barbecue, beer, and Johnson’s Baby Oil (yup, pre-SPF, too) overpowers the whispers of wild honeysuckle and pine from the woods below.
Conversation drifts round my circle of friends. We speculate on post-college life and who each of us will be when we “grow up.”
Before long we’ve identified two teachers, an accountant, a social worker, an advertising exec, and a P.T.A. mom. The tone is light with the sweet notes of women who know each other well, who see each other’s souls, and can fish gems of truth from the depths of self. As each truth emerges, sparkling, a bit of soul-light shines on us all. (more…)
This must be impossible, I thought. So I hit play and watched again.
For the seventeenth time, smoke billowed in a tawny cloud, a sunset glow lighting Notre Dame’s spire. It blackened, becoming skeletal, a tensile outline against the evening sky. For a heart wrenching moment, it seemed to become something indestructible… and so its collapse made no sense. In mere seconds the new and starkly drawn structure was completely erased.
I’ve never been to Notre Dame (or to Paris for that matter), but in architecture school I studied its revolutionary flying buttresses and drenched myself in images of its stained glass windows. In dreams, I’ve sat high on the turrets sharing a pizza with the gargoyles and prowled the crypts below the cathedral searching for the Roman ruins on which it was built.
Let’s talk a little bit about our brains.
While incredibly useful and adaptive, they can also be single-minded (no pun intended!) bullies.
A couple years back, I was doing a little number crunching for the business. It was one of those potentially annoying jobs that nobody else had enough time or desire to do. I had a bit of both, so I jumped into the breach.
The truth is, I love detail work. The intricate doodles in the margins of my notebooks would make a pointillist proud.
This was just more detail work, nothing particularly upsetting about it.
And yet, my brain was going to town.