About My Book

Dec 2, 2022 | Women's Voice & Power, Writing

It feels WAY too far away to actually talk about, let alone celebrate, but still, I’m naming it:

On 10.3.23 my book will be published! Rewriting Eve: Claiming Women’s Sacred Stories As Our Own. 

I am relieved beyond words that 20-ish years of writing — and my deliberating and editing and doubting and pitching and starting over and sticking with it and frankly, just sheer endurance — is, at last, making its way into a book that I can hold in my hands . . . as can you. 

I can also tell you that it would be just like me to bypass every bit of this, to not note the significance of today’s date, to not let myself revel — even for a moment — in what I’ve accomplished, to not celebrate at all.

My dear friend Tanya Geisler talks about this often:

“[T]he Imposter Complex and its relentless requirement for perfection and certainty tries to keep us from celebrating our accomplishments, because what has been done is ‘not enough.‘”’ Or it could have been done better, faster, or more . . . something.

And so many of us have been conditioned to believe that celebrating our own accomplishments is far too much. Far too audacious.

And who are you to be larger than life, anyways?

Listen, I won’t lie.

Taking up the space the universe has carved out for you is not for the faint of heart. It takes tenacity and resilience and a reverence for ourselves that transcends the wee space around our toes. It takes boundaries and a willingness to rewrite the stories that were originally written to limit you and others like you. It takes support and a clarity of vision and a relentless fidelity to the promises you have made . . . to yourself as much as to others. It takes discernment and care and a trust in your ability to wield power in generative ways, even if you haven’t seen it modeled well before. It takes audacity.” 

You can read her whole post here.

She’s right of course.

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks because I know that every bit of this applies to me, that she’d say exactly these words to me (and few choice others), to be sure. I hear the voices within that natter on: “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” “Almost a year away yet?!? Sheesh! Let it go.” 

I don’t like admitting any of this. 

But I know it’s needed: my own truth-telling. I also know that when I name my patterns and proclivities — with empathy and large doses of grace — I become more aware, more awake, more myself. 

I also know that every bit of this beyond-ironic. 

My book speaks EXACTLY to Tanya’s words above and my own: truth-telling, believing I am enough (and not too much), “. . . rewrit[ing] the stories that were originally written to limit you and others like you.” It’s what I have done in 60,000+ words. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last two decades, at least. And every page of it is about what it means to see ourselves as sovereign, glorious, and amazing. It’s a celebration of women, their stories, their wisdom, and their lives: the ancient, sacred ones, yours, and mine. 

And still, I struggle to celebrate myself! *sigh*

So today I’m making an effort. I’m giving focused attention to unravelling the messages within. I’m trying to do just the opposite of what I’m predisposed toward. I’m choosing to celebrate this “small” thing in preparation for what’s coming in another 330-some days. 

In the same blog post linked above, Tanya quotes Caroline McHugh:

“[There] are individuals who managed to figure out the unique gift that the universe gave them when they incarnated, and they put that in the service of their goals…

And when we see these people, we invariably call them larger than life. Life is large, but most of us don’t take up nearly the space the universe intended for us. We take up this wee space ‘round our toes, which is why when you see somebody in the full flow of their humanity, it’s remarkable. They’re at least a foot bigger in every direction than normal human beings, and they shine, they gleam, they glow. It’s like they swallowed the moon.”

This is the ache and the invitation, isn’t it? Not just for me, but you as well.

We are loath to take up more space, to shine, to gleam, to glow. We WANT it to be true about us AND we struggle. Both at the same time. 

This? Being a woman who has figured out the unique gift the universe has given them? Putting it in service of your goals? Looking like someone who has swallowed the moon? It’s what I want for you, more than nearly all else. It’s what you deserve.

And yes, me too. 

May it be so.

If I had a Book Group

Nov 4, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

I ordered a book a few weeks back, but have basically avoided it since it arrived. Well, until a couple morning’s ago when, reinforced by strong coffee, I opened it up and dove in. Since then, I’ve barely put it down: The Wisdom of Your Body: Finding Healing, Wholeness, and Connection Through Embodied Living by Hillary McBride, PhD

If I were hosting a bookgroup, this is DEFINITELY what we’d be reading and discussing together! Here are at least a few reasons why I’m so taken by what’s within these pages:

  • An appreciation of my body, not to mention any semblance of acceptance, is a long way away for me; it always has been.
  • I grew up in a world that prized the split of body from mind; thinking reigned supreme. Even though I no longer accede to this, it is still what my brain (and body) are used to.
  • In full transparency: I don’t know how to come home to my body. But I want to. I pretty sure I’m not the only one.
  • I have often felt, especially in the last 5+ years or so, that learning of and practicing embodiment is the “final frontier” for women (including me). It seems to me it is what “remains” as it relates to our ability to fully embrace our inherent and ever-present wisdom and strength.

If any of these things sound or feel remotely familiar, read on . . . I’ve included a few of the most poignant quotes I’ve highlighted so far.

Regardless of our circumstances or what we have been told about bodies, remembering and reuniting with our bodily selves is a radical act to undo our need to earn our worth. . . 

. . . many of us have forgotten ourselves as bodies. We did so in order to survive the pain or to be compliant, but in the process we left behind so much of the beautiful. 

. . . body-image research shows that the closer we get to achieving our ideal appearance, the more conditional our sense of self worth becomes, and the more we fear what it will cost us when our appearance inevitably changes.

I used to think that the sacred place where I met the Divine was always somewhere else, somewhere that was not “here” in the rhythms of my daily life. But now I see that the Holy is very much here — my body is a sanctuary, a mobile home of the Divine.

So good, yes?

A quick addendum: I had this written and ready when I happened to see an email that included the transcript of a recent sermon by Nadia Bolz-Weber. I couldn’t not include at least an excerpt for those of you who, like me, have an understanding (or lack thereof) of your body that has been heavily influenced by the church.

“The wildness of human variation isn’t a mistake — it is a sign of the glory of God — and yet we made it a sign for the value and ranking of people. Leave it to humans to take a gift and turn it into a curse.

But your body — your body is not a curse, it is a chariot.

It is a glory and a wonder. An individual container of the holy. It is a glimpse into the image of God. And it deserves so much love and respect for it has carried you through every day of your life — even every day of Jr High. Think of THAT.”

You can read the whole sermon here. It’s brilliant. She is.

Worth repeating: “. . . your body is not a curse, it is a chariot.”

May it be so.

So, I’ve written a book…

Oct 19, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

The subtitle is “A Braided Essay on Women and Silence and Shame.” And it’s published, printed, physical, able to be held in my (and your) hands. All for a VERY particular reason. Well, far more than one, actually.

I wrote this in the context of my writing group. Just another piece to be offered in the safety and vulnerability of that sacred circle of four. And in truth, I didn’t think all that much about it. It was crafted. It was edited. It was strong, yes. But something happened when I read it out loud, when I told a story I’d nearly forgotten about, and then experienced it seen, heard, and honored. Something happened, yes; and something changed. With MUCH encouragement, it was clear that more had to be done.

So I (mostly) overcame my every fear, every internal caveat and objection, every reason to not make it available, every conceivable excuse, and now here.it.is.

I hope you will buy it. NOT for any money it might make for me (which will be a VERY small percentage, believe me), but for the following five reasons:

  1. Women need their voices heard and stories told. ANY form that encourages such, no matter how unconventional, needs to be encouraged, supported, and then replicated – again and again.
  2. The story I am telling is mine, to be sure, AND you will find your own story in the midst. It is a story that all of us have known in one way or another – that is too often unspoken, but in-the-water; that needs to be told, acknowledged, and yes, seen, heard, and honored.
  3. Once you’ve read this for yourself, it is my deepest hope that you will buy more copies – for your sisters, your daughters, your friends; that it will provide women the courage to no longer remain in silence or shame, but to speak and be seen.
  4. Something powerful happens when we allow ourselves to actually and finally birth that which has been gestating within for months (if not years); to move that which has stayed sheltered and ostensibly “safe” into the wider and visible world. And it is the celebration of such that welcomes and blesses. I’m inviting you to be part of that with and for me.
  5. It is only in naming what is true – no matter how hard – that we can hope for change. And so, that is what I have done.

I still feel afraid about putting it out into the world. My heart is racing, my hands are a bit sweaty, and I can compile a list a mile long of all the reasons I shouldn’t – which is exactly why I must. But here’s the thing: no matter my trepidation, my inner-critic (or even/especially the external ones), something has already been profoundly healed in my writing of this story and even more, in the publishing of it. I can’t begin to know the outcome of such in its entirety, but on some level it doesn’t matter. I’ve honored the story, the creative process, and my very self. And your purchase, far more, your reading and sharing of this work, confirms all of this AND reminds me (and all of us) just how powerful a woman’s story truly is; just how important it is that it be told.

Thank you for witnessing this with and for me; for participating; for seeing, hearing, and honoring – me.

Click here to buy Throwing Stones

You can read more about Throwing Stones by clicking on the image of the book above. There you’ll see more of my words and the words of those who have already read and heard it. Of course, once you have read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts, as well.

My lie about writing and time

Jul 1, 2007 | Writing

I’ve been thinking more and more about writing – my desire to so, the things I so want to be able to say, the hopes I have for myself and my daughters as it relates to such. The more I think about it the more I wish I had more time. “If only I could take a couple of months off…just to get started.” “If only I could afford to just write and not have to juggle work and all the rest of life!” “If only…” Dangerous words I’ve fallen prey to before.

But this afternoon I picked up a book I’ve had on my shelf for many years: The Right to Write by Julia Cameron. Here’s what I came across in the third chapter:

One of the biggest myths around writing is that in order to do it we must have great swathes of uninterrupted time…The myth that we must have “time”–more time–in order to create is a myth that keeps us from using the time we do have. If we are forever yearning for “more,” we are forever discounting what is offered.

OK…I get it. I wonder what would happen if I repeated “I have plenty of time to write” as often as I’ve said, “I just don’t have enough time to write”? ‘Think I’ll give it a try and maybe, after chanting this affrmation a few times, I’ll actually start writing and stop chanting!

Oh yeah, that’s what I’m doing right now!