There is an art to writing, and it is not always disclosure. The act itself can be beautiful, revelatory, and private.

The danger is in what we codify, commodify, and exploit.

Each of us has one. Each voice is distinct and has something to say. Each voice deserves to be heard. But it requires the act of listening.

I wonder how it is we have come to this place in our society where art and nature are spoke in terms of what is optional, the pastime and concern of the elite?

the unexpected action of deep listening can create a space of transformation capable of shattering complacency and despair.

Water is nothing if not ingemination, an encore to the tenacity of life.

Did I have the courage to forge a path

For far too long we have been seduced into walking a path that did not lead us to ourselves. For far too long we have said yes when we wanted to say no. And for...

I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.

I speculate over some of the Anglo nomenclature of birds: Wilson’s snipe, Forster’s tern . . . : What natural images do these names conjure up in our minds? What integrity do we give back...

Story is the umbilical cord that connects us to the past, present, and future. Family. Story is a relationship between the teller and the listener, a responsibility. . . . Story is an affirmation of...

I am my mother, but I’m not,” I was saying my path would be my own.

Today, I feel stronger, learning to live within the natural cycles of a day and to not expect too much of myself. As women, we hold the moon in our bellies. It is too much...

The human heart is the first home of democracy. It is where we embrace our questions. Can we be equitable? Can we be generous? Can we listen with our whole beings, not just our minds,...

My grandmother simply shook her head and said, “You know what you saw. The bird doesn’t need to be counted, and neither do you.

We are wearing coats of trust. When one tells a story this is what happens.

I admire how she protects her energy and understands her limitations.

Beauty is transformed over time, and not without destruction.

I have found what I need most to heal a broken bond is time together—the very thing I avoid is the thing most desired.

I believe we must do things in our lives for the right reasons, because we enjoy doing them, with no expectation of getting something back in return. Otherwise, we are constantly being disappointed.” She moved...

When it comes to words, rather than using our own voice, authentic and unpracticed, we steal someone else’s to shield our fear.

Mythmaking is the evolutionary enterprise of translating truths.

Grief dares us to love once more.

Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what...

Storytelling awakens us to that which is real. Honest. . . . it transcends the individual. . . . Those things that are most personal are most general, and are, in turn, most trusted. Stories...

To be read. To be heard. To be seen. I want to be read, I want to be heard. I don’t need to be seen. To write requires an ego, a belief that what you...

Myths have a way of bringing what is unconscious to the surface and putting a face on what we cannot see.

How do we remain faithful to our own spiritual imagination and not betray what we know in our own bodies? The world is holy. We are holy. All life is holy.

There are two important days in a woman’s life: the day she is born and the day she finds out why.

CONVERSATION is the vehicle for change.

Her body was rounded like earth. Stories. Breath. . . . Her eyes have been painted closed. I understand. To tell a story you must travel inward.

To withhold words is power. But to share our words with others, openly and honestly, is also power.

My voice is born repeatedly in the fields of uncertainty.

What other species now require of us is our attention. Otherwise, we are entering a narrative of disappearing intelligences.

Women piece together their lives from the scraps left over for them.

When one woman doesn’t speak, other women get hurt.

We are contemporary citizens living in a technological world. Swimming in crosscultural waters can be dangerous, and if you are honest you can’t stay there very long. Sooner or later you have to look at...

words are much stronger than I am.

WHAT ARE THE CONSEQUENCES when we go against our instincts? What are the consequences of not speaking out? What are the consequences of guilt, shame, and doubt?

I do not write every day. I write to the questions and issues before me. I write to deadlines. I write out of my passions. And I write to make peace with my own contradictory...

Word by word, the language of women so often begins with a whisper.

What is it about the relationship of a mother that can heal or hurt us? Her womb is the first landscape we inhabit. It is here we learn to respond – to move, to listen,...

There is no one true church, no one chosen people.

Listening over and over to the voices through a family of instruments allowed us to recognize and appreciate the dignity and uniqueness of each living thing in the meadow and forest.

The mind creates those things that exist.

Finding one’s voice is a process of finding one’s passion.

What is the most important thing one learns in school? Self-esteem, support, and friendship.

Buddha says there are two kinds of suffering: the kind that leads to more suffering and the kind that brings an end to suffering.

What is evolution if not creative adaptation and the progression of our own souls?

Not everything is meant for all to hear.