And The Tree Spoke: Nature as Healer {Scene & Story}

And The Tree Spoke: Nature as Healer {Scene & Story}

These trees speak to me and call me by name. They are my medicine. My church. Among the trees, I commune with the Divine.
Nature is a Healer. It is our birthright to follow the medicine that calls to your soul.

Read 10 Comments

Welcome Beautiful Soul :: An Introduction – Writing to Heal, Sacred Self-Care, and Healing Stories

Welcome Beautiful Soul :: An Introduction – Writing to Heal, Sacred Self-Care, and Healing Stories

Welcome beautiful soul. I made this for you:: Here are my best tips on Writing to Heal, creating a practice of Sacred Self-Care, and personal stories for healing + spiritual growth.

Read Comment

Birthday Gratitude:: 39 Things I’m Grateful For

Birthday Gratitude:: 39 Things I’m Grateful For

39 things I’m grateful for on my 39th birthday Because gratitude is a message to the universe that we are ready accept, expand, live.  1. A partner who loves me, mind, body, and spirit. 2. A daughter who has taught me more about joy, beauty, goodness, and truth than other person on earth. 3. Protection from God’s angels. 4. Poetry. Not just poems, not just words. […]

Read 3 Comments

The Joy of Being & Making Humans (Poetry Book Review:: Calenday)

The Joy of Being & Making Humans (Poetry Book Review:: Calenday)

I read these poems over and over as my two-year-old daughter jumps on my back, bouncing – riding me like a horse. I can feel the absurdity of trying to read poetry as she nays behind me and sprinkles fairy dust on my head. Then I finally give in when she pulls at my hair and I’ve had enough and I turn to look at […]

Read Comment

Insist on Joy

Insist on Joy

Where I live in the Midwestern U.S., there is a real struggle happening between the remnants of the last frost and the insistence of spring. Even while there is still snow on the ground in some places, the grass is bright green in other areas. I can feel the trees vibrating as the first buds start to emerge from their branches. I was searching for […]

Read Comment

Listening for your calling

After a particularly restful visit to the woods of northern Wisconsin, I was sitting in the passenger seat of our car as my partner drove us home. I dozed off watching open fields of wheat interrupted by lush pines, rocky shorelines and old Indian lands. In my half-sleep half-dreaming state, I heard my name. “Iris.” I opened my eyes and looked at my partner. It wasn’t […]

Read 1 Comment

Where my stories come from

Where my stories come from

I grew up listening to my mother singing and reciting poetry about God and her homeland. They were stories about farmers and shoe-makers, about dictators and lovers’ serenades. Those stories stayed with me. From a young age, I’ve been collecting stories from writing workshops, theater classes, church pews and my neighborhood playground. I started the first theater group in my inner-city high school and launched […]

Read Comment

On Finding Space and Going Too Far

On Finding Space and Going Too Far

Poetry is my answer when I need space to breath. Poetry and nature. I got a little of both when I headed out to the woods with my family this summer. I had all the space I needed as I headed way out into the woods where I almost got lost with my 2.5 year old daughter. I was planning to swing on a hammock for several days, go […]

Read 3 Comments

Poetry – Mental Health – Everything but the Kitchen Sink

Poetry – Mental Health – Everything but the Kitchen Sink

Pain does funny things to our cognitive abilities. It muddies our vision, fogs our thinking, and makes it insanely difficult to remember important information. I remember, as a teenager, getting my fingers pinched in a door. Damn, that hurt. I let out a string of curse words in front of my uber-religious mom and I didn’t really care at the moment. My cognitive functions shut down briefly.In the moment, […]

Read Comment

The Loud Talker & Mindful Monday: “Like when your mind is full.”

The Loud Talker & Mindful Monday: “Like when your mind is full.”

I’m sitting in the waiting room of the VA medical clinic in rural Illinois…waiting, hyper-aware of everyone around me: The old man in his wheelchair, snoring. The young man in an Army ball-cap sitting in the corner, cross-armed with a very serious  look. The middle-aged man cleaning his fingernails with a folded piece of paper. And me: not white, not old, not man. I try not […]

Read Comment