“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” ~~ Galileo

When I was a little girl, sharing a bedroom with my older sister, I would often stand at the window that faced east and stare at the risen moon and stars. I had a deep desire to float among them, and I had many flying dreams in childhood that gave me the idea that flying to the stars might be possible. I still go there in my mind, no longer in my dreams, but my dreams have been very active throughout this recent eclipse cycle.

I notice I’m more sensitive to the energy of the moon cycles. I think of eclipses as waves of pulsating energy that are heightened at this time. They are said to release a lot of energy and create shifts - out with the old and in with the new. And I am feeling that energy of new beginnings, especially as I gaze out my window this morning at the budding trees and listen to the bird song which is more insistent and joyful on these late summer days. At least it seems so to me.

This weekend, I reflected on past experiences in my journal writing so I could release energetic threads hanging on from old relationships, emotional hurts, loss and grief, and, most importantly, fear. I continue to work on releasing fear - fear that our brutal political climate will worsen, fear that the world is fast reaching a crisis point, fear that my health might not continue to improve, fear I won’t have time to finish all the creative work I want to do. These emotions have impacted my nervous system and, in purposefully releasing them to this eclipse energy, I am choosing a future where I feel more of the joy of birdsong than I have in the past.

My rituals on the new moon, the full moon and the eclipse cycles help me focus and move me out of my very analytical and logical left brain to my intuitive right brain. These rituals that I do regularly have their own special rhythm and magic, filling me with a connection to my higher self. I connect to the part of my self that knows I am always safe, always loved, and eternal. The rituals help me feel grounded when the winds of chaos swirl around.

This weekend I focused on what I wanted to release and not carry forward. The status quo is no longer enough for me. A new direction beckons, one in alignment with my creative gifts and talents. My intuition tells me there is powerful energy around to support moving in a new direction, both personally and collectively.

I think of this quote by Victor Hugo: "Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night."

I believe the light is beginning to return and what has felt like an endless night is fated to shatter as more and more light begins to peek through hardened hearts, and dispels the gluttony of greed so prevalent right now. I know I will do my part to hold a vision of a healed world. I invite you to join me.

With love,

Cathleen

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” ~~Mother Teresa

I am revisiting an article I wrote almost three years ago, not too long after the horrific attack at the music festival in Israel that set off a war that continues three years later. It not only continues but it has spread now pulling the United States into a conflict with Iran, for which no one can adequately provide a reason nor, it seems, can anyone adequately negotiate an end. Losses have been significant on all sides, with often the most vulnerable non-combatants, children suffering the most. Those who choose to wage war often are blind to the individual lives shattered in the process.

I can’t help but wonder when, if ever, we humans will learn the lessons of war - the true cost comes not in buildings and territory but in families, legacies, promises unfilled, lives surrendered to a doctrine, to ambition, to hate, to greed and to the vanity of some of the most powerful who share our beautiful planet.

It is at times like this that I ask myself if I can stay positive. I wonder if I can stay hopeful. It’s easy to let fearful thoughts become dominant. But I know that peace is as much an inside as an outside job. Peace needs to be found in the souls of humanity before it can be experienced on the collective level. I do believe that, but it doesn’t make the knowledge that so many are suffering any easier.

Finding meaning equates to finding peace for me. And finding peace means taking time away from the media and news to bring my own being back into balance. In that state of balance I can visualize and send healing light and love to those areas of the world experiencing suffering. I can, with my energy send clouds of light and love, and, because all is energy, I believe that my contribution is meaningful, for me and for those who I hold in my mind and heart. It may not seem like much, but stepping into the oneness that connects us all, gives me that experience of belonging to all.

“The interdependency of humankind, the relevance of relationship, the sacredness of creation is ancient, ancient wisdom.” ~~ Rebecca Adamson, founder First Nations Development Institute

I am reminded that my country was founded based not only on govermental structures from England, but also on the laws of the Iroquois Confederation. Benjamin Franklin’s study of the goals of the confederacy and its laws is one reason the American democracy looks a bit different from those founded more on the parliamentary structure common at the time. And what brought the Iroquois Confederacy into being was the principle of peace - how to settle conflicts without war and how to rule so each tribe had representation and a voice. The Great League of Peace, as it was called, became the principle on which our own governmental structure was modeled. I am reminded that, even in the absence of outright conflict, it is fragile, more fragile now than ever before, and that it takes active participation to hold steady.

I embrace finding meaning in peace. I send love and light to all nations embroiled in this conflicet, and to all places on our precious earth needing my compassion right now. And for those who have family or friends in the impacted areas know my prayers are with you that those you love may come through this time safely.

With love,,

Cathleen

“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.” ~~ Cicero

Virtue isn’t a word I hear much anymore, but I try to live my life adhering to basic values of what it means to be one person in a diverse human family.

I remember one of my grade-school teachers often saying, “Patience is a virtue.” It takes patience to learn to count and add, patience to learn to read well, patience to learn to write script, and patience to wait for recess. She used the term a lot. But, then again, she was dealing with a large class (maybe 50 of us) second graders!

Philosophers, like Aristotle, looked at virtues as important building blocks of character. He saw them as essential to living well, but believed the virtues were not innate. Rather he considered them guidelines for living in harmony with others, something to be strived for.

The Old Testament puts forth varying lists of virtues, as does the Christian tradition. There are 10 virtues of Buddhism and 12 virtues of the Lakota nation. Clearly, the concept of virtues is fundamental to most spiritual systems and reveal qualities of character that underpin the ability to live together in community.

I think these aspects of character describe how to live a good life as a good human being. They are a roadmap to living an ethical life or a spiritual one, and they are universal. An atheist can live a life guided by virtues as surely as a devotee of any spiritual system. They are a recipe for the one in a sea of many.

And that is where the virtues have to be lived. They are not descriptions of how a community or group behaves but of how one individual is called to act. As I think about it that way, I start to think that part of the pain that is so evident in our society today is that virtues have become sound bites, ways to criticize others, ways to separate rather than include.

I think about the virtue of honesty or truth, and the damage that occurs when truth itself becomes untrustworthy. A society that cannot discern truth or agree on what is real is one in which a multitude of individuals have lost their way. And the road back to rebuilding such a virtue at the societal level is only accomplished through a restoration of truth at the individual level.

As always, the path turns back on the self.

Right now, it seems as if the extremes are in evidence everywhere. Can a society self-correct? I don’t know. I only know that I can as an individual. I can choose to live an ethical life and I can choose to align myself with those who also hold those values.

Maybe that is why I have such a commitment to a gratitude practice. I think Cicero is right that it is the parent of all the other virtues. It is a state of being that yields fertile ground in body and spirit for the other virtues to take root.

While I may not summon up a big platter of gratitude in the midst of a trying situation, I can still, at the end of the day, open my heart in gratitude for even the smallest of blessings. And I know that if I have a day where it is difficult for me to step into gratitude, then that day is when it is most important.

I recognize that you and I are each an expression of the same magnificent tree of life, a connection that is real. Each of us has power to impact the health of the human family in even the smallest of ways. Your love and light matters, as does mine. And I am deeply grateful for it.

With love,

Cathleen

“Grief is visceral, not reasonable. . . It is love in its most wild form.” ~~Author and Psychotherapist, Megan Divine

I’ve been thinking about loss and grief this week. About how loss is experienced in many different ways as we journey through life. From the loss of a much-loved Teddy Bear when I was five (the tears were copious), to the losses of family and friends, beloved pets and the losses of dreams unfulfilled. Changes in health and capability as I’ve aged have brought loss and sadness that needs to be acknowledged, experienced and healed.

Every change is a loss, whether we choose it or not. A state of being has shifted and a new state of being is present but not yet fully integrated. What I know is change takes time and often I have moved through change in a rush. Not taking time to feel the feelings has not served me well. Even many years later, my unexpressed sadness surfaces in dreams. What I think might no longer be held in my cells, is still there, and it calls for my attention while my conscious mind is at rest.

I believe all grief comes forth from love, the degree commensurate with the love held for that which is lost. And all grief ultimately moves into acceptance through love. Did I mention mistakes yet? I add them to the list of experiences that are losses, especially if mistakes were not allowed as I grew up in a family that expected as close to perfection as possible.

Talking with one of my oldest friends this week, I realized that friendships that ended, perhaps not by my choice, were losses that I grieved then and now. As we talked about the various people in our lives that overlapped, I had the idea of all these relationships as interlocking circles moving in and out of the boundaries of my life. And I am reminded that I am one of those circles in the universe of another’s life.

When it comes to the loss of a close loved one, there is no answer to the eternal ‘why’ that often follows. I only know that at the heart of each and every relationship is love, that illuminating grace of life. I would not want to live without the ability to love and to love deeply. What I have discovered in dealing with loss is that the healing process returns me to where I started - it returns me to love.

At the same time, it returns me to self-forgiveness for time not spent, words not spoken, or hugs not given. Memories of what was lost become warm and loving, no longer painful. Instead, I feel grateful for the love that was given. And I think that is what processing loss is all about - it is about the journey from sadness and pain back to love and the deep gratitude for those moments shared.

I talked with one of my older cousins today. She did not pass her driving test this year and has had to give up her car. We talked about the loss not of a piece of machinery but of what that represented - the loss of independence and the freedom to go places at will. It’s a big shift in life when something taken for granted for years, suddenly is gone, not by choice but by necessity. These transitions have ripple effects that create new interlocking circles filled with new people who might help fill the gap. But it is an uncomfortable change and takes time to accept that more reliance is needed on new support services and people. A change from independence to dependence on others is a big shift.

I know my dreaming mind will continue to bring up and release loss and sadness that I haven’t processed. That is the blessing of a psyche continuing the work of balancing itself. When I wake up from one of these dreams, I feel lighter and grateful. Such dreams are gifts that deepen my love of self and my connection with my illuminated soul light. From that connection, my compassion expands. And as that happens I again experience the illuminating grace of love.

With love,

Cathleen

Last week I wrote about experience being an arch (using Tennyson’s poem, Ulysses as inspiration). Shortly after I scheduled my article for Monday morning distribution, I found myself spending the rest of the day in the Emergency Room followed by almost a week in the hospital. An unexpected and surprising event. Also, a powerfully educational and liberating one.

What was wrong was a mystery. The outside evidence was clear - a very high heartbeat and non-stop rapid Afib. But the why was elusive. The ER doctor mentioned an odd result with my Thyroid. The attending cardiologist scoffed at that having anything to do with what was happening. Meanwhile, I was given a gold gown to wear that signified that I was not allowed to get up by myself. That gold gown and I remained bound to my hospital bed for the next few days.

It gave me the opportunity to meditate and reflect. I thought about the astrology of these past few days. How an unusual planetary alignment heralded change. But what type of change? I thought about how this is a time of earthquakes, fires and floods, signs the Hopi noted when they described the end of the fourth world and the threshold to the fifth. But energy is never just global, is it? It is also personal.

If I was going to heal, I needed to recognize my personal earthquake was happening. A sudden reversal of fortunes related to health that would require a transition to a new state of being. As I meditated I worked to bring my heartrate down and by the third day, I succeeded. I could get up and walk and my heartrate no longer spiked. At the same time, a wonderful hospitalist, had isolated the cause. It was the Thyroid, after all. That same day, on the right levels of meds, all returned to normal.

Two gifts were given to me through this healing crisis. The first was confirmation that my intuition and higher self could work to heal. The second gift was a brilliant doctor who overrode the skepticism of the cardiologists. She not only found the healing path but confirmed for me that problems I had experienced with other medications were legitimate, and that those medications were no longer needed. It was liberating!

I came home with a new personal identity of a sort, no longer fearful of health issues that might arise. I returned home more deeply connected to spirit than ever, and with newfound energy for my writing. I’ve walked into yet another new beginning, deeply grateful for the wonderful care received from so many during my hospital stay. For me, it is a reminder how connected our spirits are, how cooperation and compassion, not competition are our future.

"Cooperation is always more powerful than competition." ~~author, Bob Proctor

I am eager to do my part to co-create that future.

With love,

Cathleen

I went to see the movie, The Odyssey, this week. Fabulous film. Like many, I read and studied the epic poems in school but, unlike many perhaps, what really stirred my soul was Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, Ulysses. The lines I quote here are Tennyson’s imaginings of Ulysses’ words to Telemachus as he passes his kingdom to his son. The idea of experience being an arch to an untraveled world captivated me. It was an arch I was eager to travel through.

Since then I have often thought about where the experiences of my life are leading me. When I was younger, the destination, though changeable, seemed fixed. In college, the destination was a diploma and a first job. In my twenties, the destination was each step up the corporate ladder. In my thirties and forties, the destination was having a corporate job that allowed me to travel the world. Then, at fifty, the destination was again an unknown world. As I left my corporate job, I stepped into a new version of the arch. The margins had moved quite a bit.

Destinations continued to flow to me as I moved. A PhD in Metaphysics, training as a Reiki Master, a Hypnotherapist, a move north along the Hudson River and then the opening of my own holistic wellness center. Now that I look back where I’ve traveled, I can see the theme. It is an extended one of healing, a journey that took me back through the arch into the past many times. Each time I would emerge and set off again, like Ulysses, I would get distracted on the island of the lotus eaters and forget my path or I would be lured by the siren’s call where my dreams would get dashed along the rocks of life.

I still wonder where that untraveled world lies. My soul says it is within, and my soul is usually right. As I embraced yet another new destination several years ago, that of being a writer, the margins continued to move. And each time they moved, I had to do battle with doubt, with fear and with my own limited beliefs about what was possible for me. I think battling the Cyclops would have been easier. One good stab in the eye, followed by a lot of running. The metaphors in both of the Homeric epic poems are not lost on me. Only today, with so much experience behind me, can I clearly see the parallels with my own life.

Like Ulysses I am contemplating my life in the final chapter. I am no longer looking for purpose. I know my purpose. Now I look for smooth seas and westerly winds to gently carry me along towards the horizon. I look for inspiration and imagination to fill my sails. I trust that my life is unfolding exactly as intended, and that understanding brings me such peace and contentment. The destination is no longer unknown. However many years I have until I arrive, I know that I am going home. And that fills my heart with the deepest bliss.

With love,

Cathleen

As an editor and writer, I pour over pages of text with a focus on removing what does not add to the thought being expressed. I’m not that precise when I edit my own work, as my mind sees what is intended, not necessarily what ends up on the page.

Overall, my life poses the same issue. It’s difficult to look objectively at my life and decide what no longer represents or supports who I am now. It’s difficult to let go of objects that have sentimental value in the service of making space for the present and future, and allowing my eye to move on from the past. Since I am continuing a serious decluttering effort this year, it struck me that if I think of it as editing, it brings a different energy into my awareness.

Editing feels so much clearer to me when I look around my home. It is easy using the lens of the editor-self to see the repetitive items, to see the fine layer of dust on small tchotchkes. Isn’t tchotchke a wonderful word? Thanks to Yiddish for giving us many wonderful words that express an idea in such a unique way.

I very much agree with another of Nathan W. Morris’ statements:

“I’ve found that the less stuff I own, the less my stuff owns me.”

Editing the physical stuff is relatively easy compared to editing my time, my attention and my energy. I know that what I give my energy to, if ruthlessly edited, would radically change how I spend my time. And perhaps that is exactly what I need to do. Thinking of my energy as a precious and not inexhaustible resource, how I choose to allocate it, is much more than an exercise in productivity.

It is making a radical choice to prioritize those actions that align with my desire to live a life that is as joyful as possible. To do so, I need to figure out what contributes to that in body, mind, heart and spirit. As I edit out what needs to go, hopefully what is left is what was written on my soul when I came into the world.

Editing my life is about more than decluttering a closet (though I am doing exactly that this week). It’s about decluttering my mind to remove limiting thoughts about what is possible for me, at any age. It’s about discovery and the belief that as I discover more about who I am and honor that, I become more aligned with the luminous light inside me that is my essence.

It’s your essence too.

With love,

Cathleen

“A trophy carries dust. Memories last forever.” ~~Mary Lou Retton

I’m not a big consumer of sports programs. Not even a little - the occasional tennis matches, a football or baseball game here and there, and hockey once in a blue moon if the spirit moves me. So, I was surprised how interested I became as the World Cup progressed. To be honest, I was less interested in which team bested which team than I was in all the interactions that were happening between people of different countries with Americans. With scarce exceptions, it was glorious to see.

The Scots literally drank Boston out of beer, save for Bud Light. Go Bud Light! Sweden was the first to catch onto Ranch Dressing and suddenly the need for Ranch Dressing world wide was trending everywhere. Baseball confused many as they tried to compare it to any of the games they already knew and failed. Taco Bell went viral as did Waffle House, not to mention our megastores like Walmart and Costco, and mega gas stations were likened to theme parks.

But the real takeaway was the many encounters everyday Americans, many of whom had never stepped a toe in another country, had with the visitors. The easy camaraderie of people connecting to people turned the entire series into one big party. At the stadiums Americans sat with Moroccans, Mexicans, Belgians, and more - all threaded together in the stands like a tapestry of what our world could be.

And it gives me hope. I spent much of today on a Zoom call with a company in Pakistan that develops APPS. It was for a client who is an astrologer, and her interest was in making the content of her book more accessible and engaging for Instagram and TikTok. As we talked and developed the requirements, I was reminded how much I loved my corporate job many years ago that allowed me to travel to many different countries and work with people from all different backgrounds. And, through those travels, I learned much about the day-to-day life in that area of the world. Those experiences colored my inclusive view of humanity. I see a globe filled with my brothers and sisters, a vast global community steeped in the dreams and hopes of multitudes.

I wonder if the joyous connections made through the World Cup will likewise broaden the horizons of many Americans. The possibility is there. Each person only has to grasp it and leave behind fears of difference. And, clearly the secret sauce to making that happen, is Ranch dressing, invented accidentally by Steve Hanson, a plumbing contractor working in Alaska in the 1950s. The mixture of buttermilk, mayonnaise and herbs became a sensation back in the lower 48 and was taken nationally once Steve Hanson’s company, Hidden Valley Ranch, was purchased by a major corporation.

So, as I look for my bottle of Ranch dressing to enliven my salad greens, I send a wish out to all the World Cup players, countries and visitors that the memories made during this time together bring healing, understanding, and a commitment to a better world. After all,

“Borders are scars on the planet that are slowly healing.” – Pico Iyer

With love,

Cathleen

Peace dwells within when the mind and heart are free of expectations.

This weekend, as I watched the celebrations for the semiquincentennial (now there’s a word!) of the United States I thought about how my country is in a battle of clashing expectations and the connection of those expectations to true freedom. I could say a battle of ideology or use other terms but there is something about understanding expectations and their impact on the ability to live a peaceful and joyful life that feels at the heart of what is happening now.

The tricky bit is that expectations are not reality and often the gap is a source of pain, disappointment and conflict. And that’s where you find my country right now, stuck in the gap, neither side willing to budge.

Do I have expectations? Sure. I have expectations of myself and who I need to be; I have expectations of others and how they need to behave; I have expectations of how society should function, and even expectations of what it means to be a spiritually aware person in a not-so-spiritual world.

I have fewer expectations today than I did when I was a younger woman. I have learned that my having expectations of others was just a veiled attempt to ‘fix’ them. I have learned that to be free to be fully myself, I must release the need to meet the expectations of others.

It turns out that the fewer expectations I have, the happier I am. With fewer expectations it is easier for me to live in the moment and to live in balance. It may not be possible to let go of all expectations, but I have found value in allowing life to unfold without expectations of what should occur, or how someone should behave.

And that word, should, is key to understanding how things can change. As I’ve worked on becoming more present in my life, I’ve noticed that my expectations take me out of the present and into the past and future. Into the past where expectations came from parents and authority figures in school and Church that influenced my perceptions and understanding of how I should be. Into the future because expectations from others can paralyze me from moving forward if I am unsure of what it requires for me to be successful.

So, how do expectations show up? For me, expectations show up as thoughts of judgement as I go about my day. The opportunities for me to notice my expectations are many. I notice my expectations standing in the line at the supermarket checkout annoyed by a shopper in front of me not moving her cart up to allow me to put my groceries on the belt. Why? Because it’s just good manners to allow the person behind you in the checkout line to add their groceries to the belt. I notice my expectations driving in my car irritated by the driver in front of me who isn’t using his turn signals. Why? Because it’s good rules of the road and safe driving to use one’s turn signals. I notice my expectations waiting in my doctor’s waiting room and not being called in near the time stated by the practice. Why? Because, after waiting sometimes for a couple of months to get the appointment, they should respect my time. And who feels the pain of the gap of those expectations? Yes, it’s me.

Right now in the battle of expectations in my country, the shoulds are flying fast and loose and reaching critical mass. You should believe my way of worshiping. You should agree that spending government money preserving the environment over big energy interests is unpatriotic. You should realize that banning books is how we protect our children.

And I could give examples of the counter viewpoints, which reflect my own. But that is not my point. My point is that this nation is in a lot of pain, swirling in a gap, that can only be solved, as many think, by denying the rights and freedoms of others. The illusion that a world in which only one group’s expectations are met (an authoritarian world) will finally heal the pain is why so many cling to their positions, unable to have real dialogue to find solutions.

Expectations have a weight, one that can crush the authentic soul. That is why I work on becoming more aware of my thoughts. Even if I can’t hear the expectations flowing through my busy mind, their weight has an emotional charge that I feel. It is an emotional charge that can sap my joy. There’s a lovely quote by Rasheed Ogunlaru that helps me remember the path to freedom:

“Live your life, sing your song. Not full of expectations. Not for the ovations. But for the joy of it.” ~~~Author, Rasheed Ogunlaru

What I do know is that freedom for me is creating a life where I am at peace with my choices; a life where shoulds are a distant echo of thought patterns long-ago healed; a life where my only expectation is that I’m an inherently fallible being here to learn and experience all that life has to offer. And in doing so, I know that I am always and in all ways, good enough. And that is a beautiful thing.

It may seem like a small thing - one life living in peace and presence. But I believe I am one of a tide that is building, of something new arising, a true membership in a global humanity. I pray we get there so the world can fulfill it’s purpose as a true home to all beings in safety, peace and love.

With love,

Cathleen

Today I have the question that Romeo asked Juliet on my mind. And that is because I have stirred up some confusion with the Irish Citizenship folks. Earlier this year I applied for my Irish Citizenship through my Irish-born grandmother who came to New York via Ellis Island in the early 20th century.

If you haven’t applied for citizenship to another country through your ancestry, then perhaps you are not familiar with the mountains of forms that need to be provided. It was daunting but I did not give up. I found all the documents - my grandmother’s birth, marriage, death records, those of my grandfather and my mother’s (her daughter) birth, marriage and death records. Off it all went along with my own long-form birth certificate. Ten months later I received back my Irish Citizenship certificate. Yay!

Well, maybe hold that Yay. My mother (named Ellen V. Kelly at birth) now had her last name spelled incorrectly on the form. I had anticipated this possibility and had alerted the reviewers to the possibility that her last name might look like O’Kelly on her birth certificate, rather than just Kelly, her actual last name. It seems in 1908 there was a clerk in the civil records department in New York City who had the most elaborate penmanship. All of her letters were mini-art pieces and she included a long flourish to begin the letter ‘K’ of my mother’s last name. The flourish created a loop that extended from the K, going right through my mother’s middle initial, creating the illusion of an O.

More documents made their way across the Atlantic so I could request a correction. I supplied again all the documents for my grandmother, grandfather (the Kelly in question) and my parents along with a much longer explanation of the mistake. A week later an email arrived letting me know that my mother’s name is actually O’Kelly and that the office in Ireland had verified it. Verified it with whom, I wondered, since the extended family of said grandmother and grandfather (200 plus and counting) all think they are Kellys not O’Kellys. It was time for me to surrender to the ways of all things Irish.

Now I await news of whether my Irish passport application will be accepted. I wonder if they will puzzle over my birth certificate showing my mother with a last name of Kelly as compared to the Irish Citizenship certificate showing her to be an O’Kelly. I called before I started this next step and asked if that might cause some sort of red flag to be raised. I was told, “no worries, the passport is in the name on your birth certificate.” Hmmm. No worries? I wonder if it will add to the confusion when the review shows my mother’s name on my birth certificate to be Nellie Kelly rather than the Ellen on her own birth certificate.

And, of course, often names were changed when people emigrated to America in the turn of the nineteenth century into the twentieth but somehow I think I owe this particular bafflement to a clerk working away in most-likely a chilly office in lower Manhattan, creating the most beautiful birth certificates she could for the new United States immigrant-citizens as they brought the next generation of Americans into the world.

I’ve decided this whole mix-up deserves a Limerick, so here goes:

There once was a baby named Kelly
  who grew up to be called Nellie
            A woman of style
         with a dazzling smile
  Her two names did all beguile.

I’m hoping there won’t be more to this story and that shortly I will be in possession of my Irish passport. And, if all goes well, I’ll be off to see some relatives and friends in Europe next year. I’ll have to study up on the family tree and maybe I’ll add myself to a completely new clan of O’Kellys whilst I’m there.

With love and a wink,

Cathleen

In the Celtic tradition of the wheel of life, the Summer Solstice, when the sun is at its highest point, is a time when the shadow is more fully revealed (literally and metaphysically) and the Winter Solstice, when the sun is at its lowest point, is a time when the light is more easily seen (literally and metaphysically). Here in the Northeast, we welcomed the sun and the start of summer this weekend. Blessings of the solstice to all.

In the ancient cultures, the child of light (our light) is born of the dark goddess (the winter solstice) and the child of darkness (our shadow) is born from the light goddess (the summer solstice). What I believe these myths and traditions teach me about my nature is that I am both light and shadow; and in the journey to wholeness it is important that I honor and embrace both aspects of my nature.

I have the opportunity to not only engage with my own shadow but with the collective shadow of humanity. To me, that makes it even more urgent that I explore my shadow so I can more readily embody the light. It’s yet another moment in which I can discover my limiting beliefs, thought patterns, judgments or irritations that need to be brought up from the shadow to be released, healed and transformed. And, of course, I always encounter ones I thought I had already healed – a reminder that healing is an iterative process of evolution as I journey through life.

Several years ago, I created a meditation to welcome the sun, to embody it and experience my inner light - the small sun that I am, as are you. On this weekend of the summer solstice I offer it as my gift to you.

With Love,

Cathleen

It’s a new moon Monday and that feeling of fresh starts is in the air. I have practiced a new moon ritual taught by the late astrologer Jan Spiller for more than twenty-five years. I am a child of the moon, born in the dead of night, under a waning crescent moon. Today’s new moon is also a waning crescent and that has my mind going to what the slimmest of light reveals. To me, the sun is the brass band marching loudly down the street, while the moon is that lone flute player, unseen by most, sounding a haunting melody.

As part of my ritual I sometimes choose a card from one of my many card decks to guide me in what I am asked to make my focus as the moon grows to fullness. Today I met White Raven Spirit from Colette Baron-Reid’s Spirit Animal Oracle Deck. As I meditated with White Raven Spirit, it was my daily habits that called to me. As someone who has studied astrology and numerology, the number “66” on the White Raven Spirit card spoke to me of daily life. In astrology, the sixth house is where daily habits and daily work are highlighted.

As often happens, I was already thinking about daily habits and how those habits support, or hamper, my daily work. I often feel a particular energy calling to me in advance of when it shows up. Because this new moon is in Gemini, I know that new perspectives are needed in my approach to my daily habits and work. And that new perspective follows on from my mind sorting through guilt and procrastination, my topics for my most recent Substack articles. As I brought those weighty ideas and feelings to a neutral state of being, I began to think of daily habits and work in a new way.

I invite you to join me in a new moon ritual, if it calls to you. My own is simple, focusing on quiet time, presence and the honoring of the light. All that is needed is a single candle, a journal and a quiet mind. Using the method I’ve long-practiced, I meditate with my new buddy, White Raven Spirit, and then write wishes around what I want to manifest or grow over the moon’s waxing phase. I put what I write aside and trust in the magic, as White Raven Spirit says, to experience subtle shifts in energy in mind, body and heart. Like any ritual, the benefit is the gift of presence that performing a ritual brings.

Habits are also rituals, ones that I perform daily. The shift I am hoping for is that I no longer perform some of those rituals on automatic pilot. Rather I aspire to be conscious even in the smallest of rituals that are part of my daily life. One of my weekly rituals is writing to you every Monday. It’s a ritual that keeps me honoring my path as a writer and spiritual traveler. The journey continues as the road appears ahead.

With love,

Cathleen

I keep this image on my desk and it keeps me sane in my writing life. I love the art and humor of Gemma Correll (@gemmacorrell), who voices millennial life in the same way cartoonist Cathy Guisewite (@cathygwite) voiced baby boomer life for career women navigating the new rules of feminism. Procrastination is on my mind this week as I was chatting this morning with a few women friends about how difficult it is to do nothing. Now, my nothing might look different from your version of nothing but it’s taken me many years and much personal growth to be able to enjoy doing nothing.

It’s not that my ability to do nothing is to be applauded, but I think it is note-worthy. And that is because I can do nothing and not feel guilty. I can procrastinate and not worry about it. And that is most likely the result of my ‘nothing’ being filled with lots of invisible happenings. My nothing might look like meditation. It might look like me staring off into space while I rewrite scenes in my head. It might look like a much-needed afternoon nap. It might look like me allowing the dust bunnies to wink at me without my internal white-gloved critic rising to scold.

When I was a child I loved to read, and Nancy Drew mysteries were my favorite to consume from cover to cover. My mother would call me lazy if I were sitting too long reading. That word lazy stung, and carried within the seeds of not doing enough, of simply not being enough. I couldn’t understand how folding the laundry could be more important than finding out if Nancy ever solved the mystery of the hidden staircase. And I still can’t. My priorities, once I’m deep in a book, or deep in my writing, remain with the story. And that parallels my life. It is the story, the one I am creating and living that deserves my time, my heart and my presence. And only I can know what that entails.

My years in the corporate world were filled with productivity, and procrastination. And I was well-rewarded for that productivity. It was a trap that caught me unawares. A trap, because the rewards of productivity meant taking on more and more responsibility, and that meant I procrastinated on taking care of myself. And, as I emerged from childhood feeling less than enough, I basked in the praise. The thought of saying no never entered my mind, until exhaustion brought me to a halt, and I began the personal journey to heal. And in that I learned an important truth - that nothing in life is ever wasted. Not a single second. Every experience is leading to the next co-created moment that is my life unfolding. And often the ones I thought wasted turned out to be the most important ones of all.

As a writer, I have become best friends with procrastination. I’ve learned that some of my ideas need to steep until they reach fullness. And others are meant to be wisps that float by but needn’t be caught. The wisdom of mastering habits found in books that speak to the desire for efficiency and productivity, talk about tomorrow. But there is no tomorrow. Not really. There is only ever today. In the fullness of each day I continue the co-creation with Divine Love. I continue to make appointments for future days honoring what Eckhart Tolle called psychological time. But, by living in the present, procrastination becomes actions of choice. And it is only the inner voice filled with shoulds that causes distress.

It takes practice to hear my own voice over the echoes of shoulds that still pop up. But if I identify why I might choose to forego something until a later time, then I free myself from the negative connotations associated with procrastination. It’s a choice made. And if the only distress comes from an inner thought that the choice made is a less worthy one, it comes from old ideas and beliefs of what has value. To everything there is a moment, what I think of as Divine timing. I trust in that. I trust in knowing when the moment is right. I trust that no moment is missed.

Wishing you many moments of presence.

With love,

Cathleen

When I was in my early twenties, I headed off with some friends on a trip out to California to see Yosemite, the Pacific Coast and the wonders of the giant redwoods. That’s me waiting to board a boat in Sausalito, sporting the de rigueur long, straight hair so popular in the 1970s. I called my mother the next day, as promised, from my tent in Yosemite, only to have her say: “Have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine alone. Just remember I love you more than life itself.” My friend, Lenny, who was sitting next to me when I called, overheard my mother’s words. “For the last time,” he said, “are you absolutely sure she isn’t Jewish?”

Ahhh, guilt - the sense as a woman and a daughter that what I did was never quite good enough. The automatic impulse to put the needs of others before my own was a legacy of how I was raised, one that made it difficult to prioritize self, much less self-care. Like many women I carried the burden of what I came to understand was unearned guilt. It had nothing to do with my rapidly developing moral compass. Rather it was a psychological response to prioritizing my own needs that was rooted in having an over-developed sense of responsibility for the emotional experience of others.

Over the years, my journey of healing through spirituality and therapy released me from the burden of unearned guilt and helped me recognize codependent relationships and my role in either enabling or healing them. Difficult lessons of healing to learn but so important for me so I could live the life I truly wanted to live, whether it fit another’s definition or not. It was how I learned to claim my NO and be comfortable setting healthy boundaries. It was how I learned to be true to myself, even when that meant disappointing others.

A legacy of guilt gets handed down, especially to the girls and women in the family. But it is a legacy that can cripple potential. Instead, when I studied Buddhism, I learned about the idea that I should approach my life with the utmost compassion. That simply meant treating myself with the same kindness and care I would show a friend. Most often self-care conjures up visions of trips to the spa, a good massage, and maybe some time away from the office or other responsibilities of life. But there is a more compelling definition. Real self-care has my inner dialogue shifting from one of critical thoughts to one of loving kindness. Real self-care has me living as if my life is an incomparable expression of beauty and grace. And it is.

I am part of a larger humanity, flawed and imperfect but still worthy of love, peace and joy. Now in my crone years, the fact that time is fleeting has new importance to me. I intend to fill each moment with loving kindness for self and all that exists. As I sit each morning and listen to the sounds of the birds outside my window, I feel such love - for the trees, the river down below, the animals, insects and birds who create the background symphony that lights up my mornings. And I surrender in gratitude to whatever the day has in store.

May you live each day this week as if your life is the incomparable expression of beauty and grace that it is.

With love,

Catheen

My dreams have been unearthing new information about my childhood experiences, associated beliefs and resultant patterns that I struggle with today. One dream had me facing a neon sign with the word Neglect on it in bright, cheery colors. Another had me in conversation with a group where the topic was how to be second best. In both dreams, there were strange tall Jenga-like buildings. Thinking of my beliefs like a stack of Jenga blocks, I can see how my self-identity formed. But, just like the game, there are hidden blocks invisible to see until gaps reveal ones that are linchpins of the whole structure.

Because I have long-studied dream psychology, I like to write my dreams down and see what I can make of them. I often ask for further clarification as I go to sleep the night after a particularly perplexing dream. What I understand is that my psyche is rooting through my subconscious bringing hidden beliefs to the surface. I know that because each new word or phrase that emerges triggers a visceral reaction. I feel the word or words to my very core.

For example, the words second best brought in recollections of childhood experiences that connected those words to distressing emotions and a deep sadness in my child self. Following a trail of energy produced by those words, I found my way to remembered experiences as an adult where the same distressing emotions were present. And, in each of my remembered experiences, was a situation in which I believed I was being compared with another and found lacking. It’s amazing, isn’t it, that the soul self can still surprise even after decades of energy work and healing?

I thought about the very young me compared to a slightly older sister by a mother who felt I was hard to handle. I thought about the child me attached to a father who was attached to an addiction. Then I thought about how, as an adult, I often encountered another woman vying for the same job - not several others, always just one other. And I thought about how this hidden belief might have been the catalyst that drove me to great heights of success in my career.

This new understanding set me off on a journey of discovery and reflection unlike any I’ve done in many years. I am so grateful to have this knowledge that clarifies for me much of my inner motivation in life. With the knowledge I received and the memories that gave the words context, I can not only reframe those experiences but can release the effects of that specific self-limiting belief and make more room for joy. And, I can see where I am treating myself as second best. That is what hidden beliefs produce. If not in my awareness, I will act in a way congruent with the hidden belief. When no longer hidden, real change is possible.

Life, as long as we have to live, is a journey of healing. The word neglect has only just emerged. What I will tell you is that this word has a deep well of grief associated with it. Yet, I am grateful it has come up into the light of my awareness. Now, I can, and will, take the journey the word invites me to take. While painful, it will ultimately be freeing and healing.

If what I am writing about today resonates with you, then I encourage you to see what hidden beliefs might be ready to surface. Maya Angelou once said that “the real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself.” I would add that first you must know what those thoughts are. Often the thoughts we have about ourselves are built on hidden beliefs. That layer, once known, brings the shaky false sense of self tumbling down. In a very real way, this is the process of rebirth that comes with the start of each new day as the soul reawakens to yet another new beginning.

With love,

Cathleen

I spent this weekend submitting my romantic suspense novel to publishing houses that take unagented work and also sent queries out to agents who might represent my book. As I did so, I imagined the physical book in my hands, sending out a vision of success to the universe on the new moon. I’m very aligned with the moon cycles and this new moon in Taurus has that practical, grounded energy that I need to bring what begins in my imagination down to earth.

Do you remember the movie, Field of Dreams, that came out in 1989? It was widely panned by critics but has stayed and resonated through generations. One female movie critic wrote at the time that she had never seen so many grown men cry. It’s easy to understand why. The movie was about many things, but at its core it was about a father and son and the imagined opportunity to heal the past. When Kevin Costner introduced a special Major League Baseball game a few years ago, he opened with the words, “Our imaginations are infinite.”

I have always relied on my imagination. It was an escape in childhood. I could disappear into adventures in my mind when the chaos unfolding around me became too much. I have friends who tell me that they lack imagination, but that is not possible. It is inherent to human nature to imagine and create - to find the spark behind what is visible. All progress throughout history came about because someone imagined new ways of doing things. The same can be said of all regression. Someone imagined a better life in a previous time.

I think how I use my imagination matters. It is immutably bound to creativity. I use my imagination when I envision my personal story and that of the world around me. What I choose to imagine has a direct impact on my state of being, my interactions with others, and my experience of the world.

I pay attention to my imagination because one form of imagination is worry. When I share that observation in conversation, it immediately sparks a discussion - a new way of understanding what may be viewed as a habitual habit of the mind.

“The best use of imagination is creativity. The worst use of imagination is anxiety.“ ~~Deepak Chopra

I view imagination as a superpower available to everyone. For me, it is important I use it in ways that empower me and that support my desire to live a life peaceful in mind and heart. So, I am cognizant of what I take in. It is all too easy to internalize the news, the behavior of others and events in the natural world and turn them into worry and fatalism.

Instead, I use my imagination to envision the life I am building for myself. I use my imagination to envision the world I want to create rather than worrying about the one I see on the news. And I take action when guided by my intuition and my eternal connection to Divine Love.

Recently I talked with my nephew who asked me why people (like me) write when the chance of becoming famous and making a lot of money is so slim. I told him the reason is universal. It is shared by artists who paint, by singers and song-writers, by inventors, composers, designers, knitters and all who use their creative impulse to express themselves. In those moments of creative presence, time ceases to exist, age disappears, and something akin to pure essence emerges. And there is joy in the doing, and isn’t that reason enough?

With love,

Cathleen

It’s Mother’s Day weekend here in the U.S. and lots of good thoughts are in the air. I am not a biological mother. I am a PANK - Professional Aunt No Kids. It seems there are a lot of us PANKS out there in the world (1 in 5 women in North America) who, while not mothers ourselves, mother others.

“When your mother asks, ‘Do you want a piece of advice?’ It is a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway.” ~~ Erma Bombeck

I love the humor of the late writer, Erma Bombeck. Her quote represents my own mother so well. Advice-giving in our house was a one-way street and it didn’t matter if you were of an age to be out working, married or the husband in the family. My mother didn’t live to see her grandchildren but I picture her wherever she is now still giving advice down through the generations. And, though I am speaking humorously, I know it was and is an expression of love.

From my parents I got my first experience of unconditional love, or not. I received my first understanding of what it meant to be cared for, encouraged, supported and disciplined. I learned about boundaries and a concept of self that was loving and empowered if the family dynamics were healthy. I also learned shame, self-criticism and self-doubt through my family’s dysfunction. However flawed, my parents did the best they could, having emerged from their own somewhat dysfunctional family system with the very best intentions. But the very best intentions can’t solve wounds from childhood. I had to learn how to mother myself and that matters to this day. Not being able to do so means not being able to create a life of contentment, clear on who I am and the choices I make.

Every person has the ability to mother in some way. Mothering energy at its best is the highest energy of love, nurturance, emotional balance and compassion. In childhood it is the beauty of unconditional love given without reserve. In adulthood it is the open heart of understanding and acceptance. I think of those reading this who might have lost a mother at a young age. It’s a loss at any age, but for a child it is much more profound. Sending love today to those who have suffered such a loss.

When I look at what mothering energy is, I know that I have, and do, mother my family, my friends, my characters I’m writing about, my pets and plants. Any living being in my sphere is open to receiving my mothering energy. It is a great blessing to mother and be mothered. And, if that loving nurturance was not present in childhood, an experience for many, each person can still be the mother to their own precious heart no matter the age. I think of self-care as a high form of mothering energy. Thinking about what this weekend means to so many, I am reminded to make sure I make time to include myself in my mothering actions by getting enough rest, eating well and finding ways to fill my day with mini-moments of creativity and joy.

Mothering energy comes through imperfect people - female, male, nice, cranky, unhealed, calm, anxious, judgmental, caring, rigid, flexible, manipulative, honest, tired, hard-working and everything else in the spectrum of the human condition. There is no need to canonize those who mother nor to demonize them. It might be a Divine path in life for some; for others, not. It is an energy of the archetype of the Divine Feminine available to us all.

To all who mother . . . Happy Mother’s Day.

With Love,

Cathleen

I have traveled a lot in my life, and I’m often asked where I would live if not where I’m living now. What is the place I’ve most loved of all the places I have been?

It’s not an easy question for me to answer. I tend to love where I am at the moment, but I have felt strong connections of place, strong connections of culture, of history, and, yes, of geography at far flung regions of the globe. I have also been repelled for reasons I can’t articulate standing in a place seemingly incompatible with my energy.

I would rather be asked about the places I’ve been that aren’t on any map. I have an inner geography filled with sacred spaces, radiant with light. I may not have traveled to some of the well-known sacred places in the physical world. I haven’t stood at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, or visited the birthplace of Buddha in Lumbini, Nepal, or walked the road to Mecca, or journeyed the Camino de Santiago in Spain on a spiritual pilgrimage. But I have traveled my inner world.

My inner geography is multidimensional, crossing time and space, framed by the borders of love and Divine purpose. My inner geography does not recognize the outer world’s artificial separations - those of language, culture, belief and lines drawn by victors of wars. My inner geography would have me understand that the physical reality is just one aspect of my true map. I am so much more. And so are you. So much more.

I have drawn the borders of my inner geography. My limitations are those caused by invisible marks of fixed belief, thought patterns, and unhealed emotions. Some of these invisible marks were not made by me but inherited as I began to find my way in a world of duality. It is up to me to find them as I journey my inner world. If I can move beyond them, I can discover the true geography of my soul.

Because I live in an interconnected world - a world defined by relationships - I can explore the geography of my soul through my capacity to be in relationship. First of course is my relationship to self and to the Divine self within. In my journey into my inner geography this is the relationship that most defines all the others and sets the boundaries (fences) of my inner landscape.

I had a troubled sleep last night, tossing and turning and very much needing reassurance from my soul-self and Divine Love about a health issue. When I couldn’t stand my own sleeplessness, I decided to pray for peace. I did that for a while, asking with each prayer that Divine Love send me a sign that all will be well. I was specific. I told Divine Love and the angels that I wanted a sign that was so definitive that I could not mistake it for other than their answer. When I opened my eyes, the clock next to my bedside glowed. I turned to look and there on its big display was 4:44. It was a definitive message and one I not only understood but am keeping close to my heart.

The trek to find the sacred places within is a life-long one. As I journey I find moments were old beliefs that I wasn’t enough took root. I find moments where fear, mistrust and shame were born. Those places in my inner geography shrink my inner and outer worlds, and I choose to move beyond them and into my soul light. Each time I do so, I build my capacity to love.

Wishing you discoveries as you travel your inner landscape.

With love,

Cathleen

My inspiration for this week’s piece dropped into my head as I was driving to deliver a late birthday present to my eight-year-old great niece. As I drove, I thought about family. The view through the windshield is different from the view through the rear view mirror, in the way that looking back into my family ancestry produces a very different view than looking forward into the life ahead of a little girl in 2026.

Considering driving as a metaphor for life got me thinking about whether I spend too much time staring into my personal rear view mirror and not enough time keeping my vision on my present and future. What I might find in my personal rear view mirror are past hurts, wrongs, mistakes, failures, and losses mixed in with celebrations, laughter, play and times of love and joyful connection. What I do know is that it can be hard to move forward while looking backward, especially if the images I see in my personal rear view mirror are painful ones.

I asked myself the same question posed in the quote that begins this week’s musings. How do I accept an apology I never received? It is, for me, a massively important question, one that I have wrestled with throughout my life. It is a question that pushes me to remember that releasing long-buried hurt to accept the apology that will never come takes not just courage, but the willingness to put myself first. It reminds me that I can stand in integrity even if another does not.

My emotional healing is a process of acknowledging the past, accepting what I cannot change and then learning from the experience. I find there is always something for me to learn, so I look at the past, however difficult, as time in the playground of life. Sometimes I fall off the swing. Sometimes the other kids don’t play fair. Sometimes I have to try something again and again until I conquer it. But in each situation, I am growing and learning about myself, about life and about how to keep my heart open. And this is the very definition of healing.

Healing is such an important part of life regardless of how life has been. If I am growing and learning, then I am also healing and my growth and self-healing helps others.

“True healing is the willingness to treat yourself and others better than the past ever did.” ~~~Matt Kahn, TrueDivineNature.com

I love this quote. I might carry the past around including messages of self-criticism. But if I keep treating myself as that person that others felt unworthy or of little value, then I allow the past to truly define the future. And that I will not do. The essence of healing the past is the process of coming back into balance and being-ness with what there is about me that is incomparable, unique and eternal. Healing is about love - love of self, love of the Divine, love of others and love of life.

Wishing you a beautiful week,

Cathleen💖

In the early part of the 1970s, I went to Greece with a group of friends. I’m the woman in the black jacket, holding my trusty camera, ready to see the wonders of ancient Greece up close. With the man standing next to me also in black, I ventured to see the Palace of Knossos on the island of Crete. We were a group of nine friends but only my friend Richie shared my curiosity about Greek mythology and archeological sites. So, while our friends stayed in Heraklion and went to the bars and beaches, we traveled by taxi inland to the gates of the Palace at Knossos. Once there we faced a locked gate and a sign that said the site was closed that day. I was beyond disappointed. The great Greek and Roman myths had been a subject of study in college but my love of mythology went back to my childhood. The budding writer in me saw the power of allegory and metaphor, long before I would write myself.

An elderly man came up to the gate to speak with us. He had to be in his eighties with a beautiful face weathered by the sun and a great crop of white hair on his head. Best of all, he spoke English as our Greek was limited to Kalimera (Good Morning) and Parakalo (Thank you and Please). I told him how disappointed I was not to be able to see the ruins as we were only on Crete until the evening. That’s when the magic of personal connection took hold and he opened the gates to give us a personal tour of the site. Even more magical was the fact that he was part of the dig that Sir Arthur Evans undertook that spanned three decades from 1900 to 1931. Our guide, and new friend, had participated on the digs in the mid-1910s and throughout the 1920s which were the ones where many of the famous frescoes were uncovered and restored, where the system of underground plumbing was unearthed, where what Evans called The Customs House - an edifice with huge pilloried columns was brought to light.

Most fascinating, according to our guide, was the imagery of bulls and bull-riding that decorated the walls, the pottery and even a now-famous museum piece, a drinking cup. As we walked around we would stop and our guide would tell us the story of what it was like the day a particular discovery was made and the grueling and backbreaking work to carefully move away almost 4,000 years of soil and sediment to find what was beneath. My day at Knossos remains one of the most amazing experiences of my life. As I stood and watched water flow through 4,000 year-old pipes and learned that the olive oil preserved 4,000 years ago revealed a dietary staple and key ingredient for daily life that carried echoes of a vanished civilization to the Mediterranean cultures of today, I was enraptured.

And of course we had to talk about the Minotaur and the Labyrinth - the mythology that rose from the discoveries at Knossos and captivated a school girl of thirteen. At that age I read Mary Renault’s book, The King Must Die, and my love-affair with all things Minoan began. To have the opportunity to stand at the archeological dig with someone who had been there for the discoveries exceeded any dream I might have had of what I would learn there. Our guide would wink when talking about the legend of the minotaur and say, “But who is to say what is real and what is myth?” Who indeed. When we parted to return to Heraklion and our group, I hugged our guide, deeply grateful for the magic of his presence and the time he gave us to share his story. My tears as I left caught me by surprise. Ahead were visits to Delphi, Poseidon’s Temple, the Parthenon, and many more wonders of the ancient world. But I had already been to the crown jewel of what my Greek journey would yield - a moment of connection across age and time that was a soul meeting of love and grace.

I believe it was my day at Knossos that was the catalyst for a different kind of archeology that began to fascinate me as I moved into my late twenties, and both my parents had died. The archeology of the soul began to call to me, moving me through discoveries in therapy and in dreams, of what was underneath the life I was living. The facade crumbled more than once and each time I unearthed long-buried truths, emotional tsunamis, and new perspectives. A deepening wisdom emerged. A new knowingness. And, I continue to ask, “What is real and what is myth?”

With love,

Cathleen