Today Is My Peaceful Day

Morning light, a warm cup, and a quiet reminder: today is my peaceful day.

Each morning, I begin with a simple ritual.I write in my journal: Today is my peaceful day. I write it at least three times.Then I stand, feel my feet on the floor, glance around the room, and speak the words out loud. These words are more than a mere affirmation.I feel them deep in my… Continue reading Today Is My Peaceful Day

Soft is Not Weak

Sacred fierceness does not always roar. Sometimes it grows quietly, like roots reaching deeper into the truth of who we are.

I read a story many years ago about the goddess Durga and how she restored balance to the world.In the myth, chaos had taken hold — fear, violence, and confusion spreading like wildfire. Even the greatest powers could not quiet the storm. Then Durga appeared.She rode in on the back of her lion, steady and… Continue reading Soft is Not Weak

When We Did Not Turn Away

When we do not turn away, even the heaviest things can rest. Image credit: alexas_fotos via Pixabay.

In our Sunday Women’s Circle, we spoke to the elephant in the room. One by one, each woman faced the feelings churning deep within. Courage became our staff to lean on. It wasn’t only the fear of a world that feels unstable. It was the bitter taste of betrayal. Still, one at a time, we… Continue reading When We Did Not Turn Away

Rooted

There’s a woman seated in the forest, dressed in roots.She’s not trapped.She’s rooted. This morning, I woke shaking.My body remembering.Stories in the world tapping on old doors. “No. Not this again.”I cried.When will it end? For a moment, I wanted the memories gone — erased, buried, finished once and for all. But wanting them gone… Continue reading Rooted

A Doorway, Not a Wound

A short while ago, someone posted something on social media that felt unkind to me.It was a slanted half-truth — just enough distortion to sting. I don’t know this person well. I suspect they were moving from their own unresolved pain. Still, it hurt. It was passive-aggressive. Aimed. And I found myself asking the old… Continue reading A Doorway, Not a Wound