This morning, the tight fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart as the sun rises, as the sun strokes them with his old buttery fingers…. –Mary Oliver, Peonies It’s been a chilly spring in the Rockies with tumultuous weather (snow on my mid-May birthday!
Thirty-one years ago tonight, September 10, 1982, a Friday, I entered the lobby of Mile Hi Church in Lakewood, Colorado, where I had been a congregant for not quite five weeks, clutching my tattered spiral notebook journal tightly to my chest. I was about to enter the sanctuary (along with
I just adjourned the 2013 women’s writing retreat, a five-day immersion into Self in a beautiful, simple retreat setting. This year I did the “Women’s Circle, Women’s Story” format that I’ve used over time. It’s pretty timeless — circle and story are two ancient forms of knowing, and writing is