I cut hearts out of paper, and string them together for the children. Parenting is nothing like I thought it would be. Demanding and challen...

There is the physical act of gathering the names. From my email, and FB posts, and forum on Glow. I gather and write them out, with real na...

I cut and pasted my entire blog into Word. Just the cutting and pasting part took a half an hour or so. When I was done, I saved it, and an ...

You come too dark these days. Without my glasses you look like night. The baby bridges Sam and I, kicks me in the shoulder and I crawl into ...

Deep listening.  Uncluttered presence.  Peace. I stare at my vision board. I understand little in the way of peace, except that I am...

I put her name into the search bar in Etsy, in Pinterest, in Google. Lucia. And pictures of a girl with long blonde braids, candles crow...

Archangel Azrael, the angel of grief . Watercolor, 4"x6", 2012. When Lindsay over at Murmur of Wings asked me to answer a f...

My hair twists in the night, wraps itself in curls that look like dread locks. I wake looking at this long hair beast of a woman--black stre...

"That juicer is your enemy. It has been working against you for years. Throw it out." I imagine a grapefruit, run through, its t...

Misshapen pottery filled with smudge sticks filled with mugwort for dreams and shamanic journeying, and cedar for prayers and sage for clean...