Our blogging of this site is now at an end. We will no longer be posting new material on this blog, however the stories already posted will remain available to be read.
Our books, A Week's Worth of Women, and, Food and What Feeds Us, can always be purchased through this site.
It has been our pleasure to share our stories and poetry with you over the past two years.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Last Blog
The Last Blog
Well, it falls to me to write the last blog for a Week’s Worth of Women, as we have known it. Since writing our “Food and What Feeds Us” book together last fall, our week has slowly been diminishing in the representation of the days, until the few of us left have decided to take a hiatus.
I would like to say what this time, with these women, has meant to me and acknowledge this remarkable input of talented voices that we have listened to, cried with, laughed with, and most of all, honored during these years of meeting every week to share our stories. I wish to thank Jyoti for holding our space and encouraging our creativity throughout the dry or juicy moments of laying down our thoughts and reminiscences. Whether the words came easily or not, in the search of the perfect expression, we learned to offer our creativity without judgment or disclaimers. How amazed we would be at the caliber of writing that emerged.
For me personally, I wish to thank each of you for carrying me in your love through one of the hardest transitions in my life. You listened to my heart words, you were my sounding board, you put up with my political rantings, and stood with me in showers of blessings. I love each of you and am so grateful to have walked this length of the path with you. We have grown together, our innermost gut feelings intertwining, until we became one entity, “A Week’s Worth of Women”, in blog and book.
May our journeys be blessed as we morph into another identity. May our endeavors hold the power that we gained from each other. We are strong together and carry that strength into the stories that are coming. I want to hear them all as they spill out of us in a fountain of expression. We are courageous women, taking on the ability to put ourselves out to the world whatever may. We stand as an example to all people that their stories and their lives have value and cry for the telling.
As we know, nothing is ever lost.
Prema Rose
6/20/10
Well, it falls to me to write the last blog for a Week’s Worth of Women, as we have known it. Since writing our “Food and What Feeds Us” book together last fall, our week has slowly been diminishing in the representation of the days, until the few of us left have decided to take a hiatus.
I would like to say what this time, with these women, has meant to me and acknowledge this remarkable input of talented voices that we have listened to, cried with, laughed with, and most of all, honored during these years of meeting every week to share our stories. I wish to thank Jyoti for holding our space and encouraging our creativity throughout the dry or juicy moments of laying down our thoughts and reminiscences. Whether the words came easily or not, in the search of the perfect expression, we learned to offer our creativity without judgment or disclaimers. How amazed we would be at the caliber of writing that emerged.
For me personally, I wish to thank each of you for carrying me in your love through one of the hardest transitions in my life. You listened to my heart words, you were my sounding board, you put up with my political rantings, and stood with me in showers of blessings. I love each of you and am so grateful to have walked this length of the path with you. We have grown together, our innermost gut feelings intertwining, until we became one entity, “A Week’s Worth of Women”, in blog and book.
May our journeys be blessed as we morph into another identity. May our endeavors hold the power that we gained from each other. We are strong together and carry that strength into the stories that are coming. I want to hear them all as they spill out of us in a fountain of expression. We are courageous women, taking on the ability to put ourselves out to the world whatever may. We stand as an example to all people that their stories and their lives have value and cry for the telling.
As we know, nothing is ever lost.
Prema Rose
6/20/10
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Letter to Readers
Dear Blog Readers,
Our blogging of this site is coming to an end the week of June 21st. We will no longer be posting new material on this blog, however the stories already posted will remain available to be read.
Our books, A Week's Worth of Women, and. Food and What Feeds Us, can always be purchased through this site.
It has been our pleasure to share our stories and poetry with you over the past two years.
Our blogging of this site is coming to an end the week of June 21st. We will no longer be posting new material on this blog, however the stories already posted will remain available to be read.
Our books, A Week's Worth of Women, and. Food and What Feeds Us, can always be purchased through this site.
It has been our pleasure to share our stories and poetry with you over the past two years.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
CURRENT WORLD VIEW, PERSONAL
I could say “I am so in love with life on this planet and consider this is a very exciting time to be alive right now.” I could say, “Half the time I am fighting down anxiety attacks and the other half I am in a state of bliss.” And all of these would be true.
It is hard to turn on the TV and watch the oil spill in the Gulf Coast. It breaks my heart and makes me feel sad and hopeless.
I have a strong spiritual connection and I do choose to believe that all is in Divine Right Timing and something good will come of this horrible disaster. The President of the Sierra Club was on the news this morning urging President Obama to begin talks on leading our nation away from oil dependency. That is the most hopeful news I have heard lately and aligns with my own point of view. Finally!!
Being with my horse, just standing beside her, brings me great peace. When I walk out through my green grassy lawn to feed the horses I look over their pasture to the corn field, growing by the minute with all the rain that we had this week-end. I look over the corn field to the trees along the Platte River and thank God to be so close to a water way, even if at the moment it has spilled over its borders. I look over the trees and see new snow on the jagged silhouette of the Rocky Mountains.
For twenty years I have been aware of the Mayan Calendar and 2012 debate. Will it be the end of the world or the beginning of a new way of living? I dread those mornings when my first thoughts are filled with insecurity and worry. Where can I find the strength to live through this day?
For the past six months I have been enrolled in an Equine Gestalt Coaching class. I am as high as kite with this program and all the potential it has for helping people. I love those mornings when all I am aware of is the sun streaming in and the birds singing right outside my window. I am not alone.
The tension comes from balancing the anxiety with the bliss. I feel as though I am on the razor’s edge. Looking down into despair is dangerous but it is hard to pull my eyes up to see the peaceful vision that, intuitively I know, lies ahead of me. Sometimes I want to leave my body as I watch my racing brain and thundering heart come to a “Y” in the road, careening out of control. Will they decide to take the turn together or will the split in the road tear me apart? It takes incredible strength and focused energy to breathe deeply and direct this forward momentum. Sometimes I can’t get there for a long time. But then I do. I always do, eventually.
Trust. Faith. Patience. Love. Vision.
Moonlight on the mountains.
Promise for a new day.
* annette
It is hard to turn on the TV and watch the oil spill in the Gulf Coast. It breaks my heart and makes me feel sad and hopeless.
I have a strong spiritual connection and I do choose to believe that all is in Divine Right Timing and something good will come of this horrible disaster. The President of the Sierra Club was on the news this morning urging President Obama to begin talks on leading our nation away from oil dependency. That is the most hopeful news I have heard lately and aligns with my own point of view. Finally!!
Being with my horse, just standing beside her, brings me great peace. When I walk out through my green grassy lawn to feed the horses I look over their pasture to the corn field, growing by the minute with all the rain that we had this week-end. I look over the corn field to the trees along the Platte River and thank God to be so close to a water way, even if at the moment it has spilled over its borders. I look over the trees and see new snow on the jagged silhouette of the Rocky Mountains.
For twenty years I have been aware of the Mayan Calendar and 2012 debate. Will it be the end of the world or the beginning of a new way of living? I dread those mornings when my first thoughts are filled with insecurity and worry. Where can I find the strength to live through this day?
For the past six months I have been enrolled in an Equine Gestalt Coaching class. I am as high as kite with this program and all the potential it has for helping people. I love those mornings when all I am aware of is the sun streaming in and the birds singing right outside my window. I am not alone.
The tension comes from balancing the anxiety with the bliss. I feel as though I am on the razor’s edge. Looking down into despair is dangerous but it is hard to pull my eyes up to see the peaceful vision that, intuitively I know, lies ahead of me. Sometimes I want to leave my body as I watch my racing brain and thundering heart come to a “Y” in the road, careening out of control. Will they decide to take the turn together or will the split in the road tear me apart? It takes incredible strength and focused energy to breathe deeply and direct this forward momentum. Sometimes I can’t get there for a long time. But then I do. I always do, eventually.
Trust. Faith. Patience. Love. Vision.
Moonlight on the mountains.
Promise for a new day.
* annette
Sunday, June 13, 2010
My Tree of Life
My Tree of Life
I am a bird alighting on a branch of my Tree of Life, evoking the memory of that particular perspective and experience. I write from that vantage point, from that moment in time. What details and emotions arise within that story? I want to capture every nuance and shade of color. I look for the words to recreate that event, that feeling, that inspiration.
I love the writing and am always amazed at the magic of the simple act of bringing pen to paper. Miracles happen in that moment. There is no judgment, just the flow and the trust that the next word and thought will be there to follow the one that has emerged before it. Sometimes I have an inkling of what I am to say but, often as not, the words seem to be bottled up in my pen (or keyboard) and spew themselves out, independent of my mind. Then I will stop and ask if that is really what I mean to say and how I mean to say it. I try not to second-guess the process as I become more amazed at its perfection. Sure, I could say something different, in a different way, but that is my mind getting in the way of just writing.
Someday my Tree will be in full bloom with all the stories and memories that wish to be told. I will call all the other birds and flocks of birds to sit on this branch or other and enjoy the vista.
Prema Rose
5/16/10
I am a bird alighting on a branch of my Tree of Life, evoking the memory of that particular perspective and experience. I write from that vantage point, from that moment in time. What details and emotions arise within that story? I want to capture every nuance and shade of color. I look for the words to recreate that event, that feeling, that inspiration.
I love the writing and am always amazed at the magic of the simple act of bringing pen to paper. Miracles happen in that moment. There is no judgment, just the flow and the trust that the next word and thought will be there to follow the one that has emerged before it. Sometimes I have an inkling of what I am to say but, often as not, the words seem to be bottled up in my pen (or keyboard) and spew themselves out, independent of my mind. Then I will stop and ask if that is really what I mean to say and how I mean to say it. I try not to second-guess the process as I become more amazed at its perfection. Sure, I could say something different, in a different way, but that is my mind getting in the way of just writing.
Someday my Tree will be in full bloom with all the stories and memories that wish to be told. I will call all the other birds and flocks of birds to sit on this branch or other and enjoy the vista.
Prema Rose
5/16/10
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Angels
They sit on high with glorious wings
unfurled in heaven’s sunlight.
On earth, they wear garbs of flesh
and hang around street corners
whispering in the ears
of the homeless and down-trodden.
At sea, they swim with dolphins
and ride the giant whales
from one continental shelf
to another.
These glorious beings
tend to children’s needs,
the human heart’s travails,
and all manner of life
in between.
Tall, stately, glowing from the inside,
they bruise my heart
with their unconditionality,
and cook me until I’m done,
until I get it, let go,
and move on,
as they do at will,
to newer territories,
flowing in the moments
wherever the strains
of Heavenly music
call them.
Jyoti
unfurled in heaven’s sunlight.
On earth, they wear garbs of flesh
and hang around street corners
whispering in the ears
of the homeless and down-trodden.
At sea, they swim with dolphins
and ride the giant whales
from one continental shelf
to another.
These glorious beings
tend to children’s needs,
the human heart’s travails,
and all manner of life
in between.
Tall, stately, glowing from the inside,
they bruise my heart
with their unconditionality,
and cook me until I’m done,
until I get it, let go,
and move on,
as they do at will,
to newer territories,
flowing in the moments
wherever the strains
of Heavenly music
call them.
Jyoti
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