On BEcoming Through Maturing

On BEcoming Through Maturing

New hair – who’s this? Truly. I’m asking this question of myself. As I confront becoming an “older, more mature” woman whose staring at the last third (or end of the third quarter) of life, I want to know Her. Exploring what it means, what it looks like, to become a Wise Woman. For the last few years I’ve been looking up older women for inspiration: celebrities , public figures, women I personally know who emulate and embody what I’m looking for. What do they look like? What do they wear? How does grey hair look? What does it mean to soften? How do they emulate grace? Are they wrapped up in maintaining youth? Are they getting facelists? Botox? Fillers? Are any of those things aligned for me? Do I want to allow the maturing of my visage? Or do I strive against the process? And to what degree? Who is in integrity with the transformation of maturing? Of this I am clear – we get to choose how we want to grow with age. To me, that means embracing certain aspects of aging, and taking the best care of my beautiful body temple, possible. Hardcore workouts are a thing of the past. My body doesn’t want or deserve punishment. It wants and deserves my love. It prefers yoga, dance, stretching, hiking and walking. My body temple doesn’t want sugar anymore. It’s communicating it’s disdain for certain foods and environments. I’m listening. Making this change in my hair is an outer reflection of the inner growth I engage. Cutting off the old, damaged hair and letting my beautiful silver...
Inner Authority

Inner Authority

Speaking my truth is a practice in integrity. It’s part of how I transmit energy and understanding born of intense study, practice, and life experience. While I was born with a renegade spirit, rebellious to the core, questioning, fiercely independent, I fought hard to claim my Inner Authority. Outer authority (to my rebel soul) is something to be questioned, confronted, held to account, and railed against when it’s not born of Service, true justice, or when it doesn’t make sense in a feeling, embodied way. Those times when something just feels :off:. Over time and with great dedication to growth and self-knowledge, I’ve learned and experienced many things that have moved from “intelligent, head knowledge” to full-blown, embodied, deeply anchored truth. At times I find that my truths align with the Truth. Especially when lived and breathed repeatedly. There are (more and more often, lately) many times when my personal, subjective truth aligns with objective, universal Truth. And, I’m all for lining up with what is True and speaking to it, honoring it, sharing it, ANCHORING it. During this era we are living, what is Truth versus what is true, are constantly in question. In some ways I see this as a time of revelation- not in the biblical sense – but in the ways that we are all learning to become adept at discernment and our own analysis. It’s ultimately the search for deeper meaning and the crucial use of our critical thinking faculties. We are coming into our own belief systems, forming those structures, dismantling what’s not aligned or ill-informed. I suspect we will be in this...
The Feminine Wound

The Feminine Wound

I clearly recall growing up and attending public school with an open heart. I also clearly remember the feeling of being ostracized, judged and condemned by my female peers. This during the utterly difficult and confusing time of adolescence. (Add to that family dysfunction writ large.) That time was hurtful and caused me a great deal of pain. I never understood why girls behaved that way, or what prompted such ugliness. I wanted to be friends, to be liked. And, I’m loyal to a fault. There’s a cliché about girls being catty towards one another and competitive. Many clichés exist because they are true. As I grew older and left the era of public school I found true friendships and sisterhood with other women. Many of which are not just intact to this day, but are thriving, nurturing, uplifting, supportive relationships. One of my most profound experiences of sisterhood came as I worked for a short time as an exotic dancer. We were all loving and supportive of one another. Protective even. Each time a dancer would take the stage there was a recognition that sounded like “There’s _________, so beautiful, unique, doing her gorgeous, mesmerizing dance moves. My friend and ally.” And, that was certainly the case. We had to stick together and look after each other. I’ve always been the kind of person, the kind of woman who loves other women. I celebrate them, befriend them, offer my best. There’s a strange awareness that has pervaded many encounters with other women along the way, one of intimidation. I have rarely felt intimidated. Rather, they were intimidated by...