My mother, LoRaine, held by her mother, Ruth. Missoula, Montana, 1921 The Mothers by Cheryl Strayed There are so many kinds of mother. The mothers you cherish and celebrate. The mothers who were never really there. The mothers who broke you. Who built you. The mothers who cheered you on. Who chipped away at you until you were dust. The mothers who reveled in your astonishing intelligence and grace and power. Who saw only their own light. The mothers who died painfully young.

Photo Credit: Susan Lash http://susanlashphoto.com How often do I try to fill in the blanks for another when I’m not understanding or trying to perhaps control how something is landing inside for me? I recently read Nadia Bolt-Weber’s sermon that she gave at a women’s prison on this topic and honestly, it stopped me in my tracks. Something that I realize I have done, can do and often without a thought about what might be true for the person that I’m filling in the blanks for.

Trees have companioned me throughout my life in the most healing and nurturing of ways. I had favorite trees on my childhood property...

In memory of Charley, my sister of the heart Lisa's, beloved companion, who will forever be on the other end of her heart tether, both held and free How does one feel both free and held? It’s an alchemy, a force so much greater than one can imagine, yet it’s the strength of the tether and the wind that still rattles, shakes, rolls and guides me today. As I reflect upon my childhood growing up, the youngest of three like a wild mushroom left to her own devices often or so she

I’m not so sure about something that I’ve had a difficult time releasing. Several weeks ago I was conversing with a woman who had lost...

“Heart Clutch.” One of my dear sisters of the heart wrote this in a text as we were trading thoughts to one another on the day of her...