On the dark moon of the 10th month of the 10th year of my twin daughters’ life, we had the fire ceremony.

Grief is a strange bird. It lies in the shadows and then snaps back to attention with shocking and inexplicable furor.   At least this is the way it dances with me.  I am not really big on feelings.  In my work I am deeply immersed in elemental energies.  Sometimes this means raw emotion, chaos, unpredictable things.  I deal with trauma on a daily basis and I am unwaveringly matter of fact and business like.  In my shamanic practice I often journey right into the heart of grief. I stare down unspeakable suffering, negotiate the dark realms, converse with heartbreak.

How do you answer when someone asks the question-making you swear to tell the truth-“am I pretty?”

How do you explain that there are galaxies in her eyes? Exploding canvasses of mystery and depth. Specks of stardust frozen in hand blown marbles. To stare too long is to lose oneself in wonder. 

Four walls built on shaky dirt 

in earthquake country 

The earth moves - it all comes crashing down

When what was yesterday 

doesn’t make sense for tomorrow 

It’s been seven years and still the words you hurled at me linger

That day had been a hard day. 

I didn’t want to go home.  

During the pandemic

my daughter begged for budgies

I resisted

They are cheerful and bright

She implored.  I need them right now!

A caged bird?

Greetings friends!  March has arrived.  Blessed Be.

We are moving from the Winter’s time of rest into Spring.  To me, this season is the dreaming time.   The place where the seeds of opportunity are sown and begin to bloom.  Seasonal cycles mirror those of our own days.

You tell me you don’t believe in the God and Goddess 

No dogma can hold your faith

Khnum the creator 

Still waits at his wheel

Heket still inhales deeply

Preparing her breath of life

The clay figures no longer created

There is no need for their services in 

Today’s world.

 It seems we have had a lot on our mind. It’s been silent and cold. The sun is birthing from the womb of darkness.  We are suspended in stillness, yet no longer slumbering.  While the last thrusts of winter’s icy fists may still be clutching at your aching bones, therein lies the promise of warmth, opportunity, renewal.  It is close, so close. So close-we can taste it.