How to Keep a Creative Holy Fire Burning

“I’ve seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write… and you know it’s a funny thing about housecleaning… it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman. A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (or over-respectability) to steal her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures. She simply must put her foot down and say no to half of what she believes she “should” be doing. Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estés Listen, first things first.You must protect your…

The Mother Journey

The virginal quality is hard to resist —the bright shine, the colorful glow,the gleam of adventure ready to burst from within Her innocence drips charmtoward those who want to form her anew. Yet, the purity she carries is not naivety,nor is it ignorance to the ways of the world. Trust me, her nature leads her to track like a wolf,to see with the eyes of a hawk,clever ideas spin in her dreams The path winds, the road travels hard,her blood pulses rich as new life beats within. The trek takes her deeper, darker —into the resources of herself. Sleeping, shadows…

Fierce Mama

No meek and mild lady,no pasty, polite socialite —This one, a woman after God’s own heart,brave virgin girl,clips the string of expectations,snips the cord of cultural norms, carves space in the depths of her being—Falls into a wide open, “YES”,stretches into wily woman. Shesteps toward the one who embraces,supports her in tender growth.Together, wombs leap, life sparks.Now, this one, fire in her belly,glorifies God amid trial,stands tall for justice.She moves to the rhythm of mercy,the song of the Spirit.This one, fierce mama,births brilliance in open air, ina span of dirt and crumbs.She and her beloved area mysterious, spectacle of love.Wise…

Making Room in the Darkness

You see, dear one There are mysteries you don’t understand, tragedies you don’t comprehend. I am the Mother who hovers and veils all my children with steady, beating love in times of darkness, with rolling waves of compassion in the waiting. I hold the sorrow of hearts and place them in the night sky, a remembrance of luster and ebony twirling together. I live within the container and beyond the container— vibrations of my voice heard even in the driest desert. Remember me? Blessed Mother Mother of Grace Mother of Strength Holy Mother Mother of Jesus Mother of You. I…

Am I an Artist?

She sat on the stone steps at twilight looked at the emerging moon. She spoke aloud the question she’d been carrying for some time, “What does it take to be an artist?” Does it take paintings in galleries with large, fancy openings? Is it a book announcing your name on a shimmery spine laid upon a bookshelf? Does it take the right amount of schooling with the perfect technique and style? Of course, what she was really asking is, “Am I an artist?” She realized that children never ask this question. They dare to believe themselves amazing artists and it…