Hic sunt dracones

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Hic sunt dracones

Apparently, the more frequently used phrase during the Medieval era was “hic sunt leones,” to denote areas on a map that were considered unchartered territory. Off the map. Beyond that which was known. There is one extant example of “hic sunt dracones” - here there are dragons from 1504 CE. I am going to use that one.

When I checked in for the Bone Marrow Transplant, they very kindly gave me a schedule of what medicine I would receive what day, color coded, each day clearly demarcated, the two days of receiving cells highlighted in a different color.

Then nothing. Hic sunt dracones.

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Letter to my children: Naps and Petticoats

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Dearest Beloveds,

About a two years ago I had this idea for a collection of musings entitled, Naps and Petticoats. Aside from being a rocking title, I thought the first piece would be a place for me to share some of the methods I use to unwind and some of the things I do to deliberately spark my joy. So here goes - why wait?

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Divine intermediaries, sauna prayers, and cultural appropriation

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Divine intermediaries, sauna prayers, and cultural appropriation

Part of the global nervous breakdown permeating all of our lives comes from the endemic emotions associated with the shattering of traditional heirarchies. My brother-in-law wrote a brilliant book describing this breakdown in the media (shameless plug alert) - but I want to talk about it in terms of God.

Obsessed might be too strong a word, but let us say I am very captivated by Meggan Watterson’s Mary Magdalene Revealed, especially her chapter on Thecla. The chapter is called, “The Girl Who Baptized Herself,” and that pretty much sums up her story…

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Letter to my children: Laughing contests and carnal pleasures

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Dearest Beloveds,

A few days before I headed to the hospital for my Bone Marrow Transplant, we were at dinner.

“Let’s play Animal, Vegetable, Mineral!” Clamored Bean.

“Hmmm, I am not quite sure that Momma can handle another game like last night. What was I trying to guess - a Cheetar?”

“No, Momma, it was a CheePho, half cheetah half phoenix.”

“Right, okay, I think my head may have exploded with that one.”

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 1

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 1

The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips*

This Fairy Tale, though not considered part of a canon as of yet, has aspirations for great things and expects to confound all expectations. Much like our heroine.

Once upon a time there was a princess who grew up in a beautiful land of marble and gardens. She was told she was smart and beautiful and accomplished. She was told to be a good friend, to keep her elbows off the table, and to clean up her own mess. Her education was beyond compare. Our princess was exposed to language, arts, music, travel, and food in addition to her formal education which taught her discipline, curiosity, and the joys of intellectual investigation and creativity. And math.

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My Princess Tower writing retreat time

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My Princess Tower writing retreat time

When I made myself the list of what I wanted with me in my rebirthing space I did not anticipate several things. I did not realize I would feel so grateful and energized to be on my own schedule, to not be in charge of chores, or schedules, or so completely and utterly thrilled to write.

I have been in my Princess Tower for five days.

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Letter to my children: Why Books are Amazing

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Dearest Beloveds,

You two are growing up surrounded by books, words, dictionaries, library visits, grammar corrections first thing in the morning,* visits to the Atlas to look at Madagascar and talk about lemurs, and visits to Dadda’s Anatomy textbooks when your Momma wants to show you where the AV node is to talk about the Sun in your body. Your Momma and Dadda feel truly blessed that we are able to give this to you. Your Dadda, ask him, and your Momma because I have loved books my whole life.

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Letter to my children: Facetime and Fishes

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Dearest Beloveds,

I am so grateful I am doing my time away from home in a world prepared by Covid to live online. Yoga classes, Facetime, therapy appointments, healings with Rob Wergin - all are accessible from my chair in my princess tower.

I am happy to be seeing you regularly (even if only in 2 dimensions) because I am hoping that way when I am home I won’t be as shocked by your 6 weeks of growth. That satisfies some parts of me that are missing you - but not all of the parts.

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Adieu my Bone Marrow, A Dieu

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Adieu my dearest bone marrow. Go with God. My beautiful marrow that made my blood all of these 45 years. Carrying oxygen, carrying back CO2, finding cuts and providing scabs, regulating my temperature, bringing blood sugar so I can see again when I am blind with hunger, all of it - I am so grateful for all you have done for me. Thank you - you can rest now.

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Letter to my children: On presents

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Letter to my children: On presents

Dearest Beloveds,

I want to share these anecdotes with you for two reasons. Primarily when I write them down I get to relive my joy. Additionally I savor the stories of my childhood that I have been told. Despite the potential for teasing as they are shared in the years to come - I think they are wonderful, uplifting, amazing. These personality nuggets make up you as you - glorious, unique, and inimitable you. They are treasures because you are treasures.

About a week before Christmas both of you became concerned that you wanted to give gifts.

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Letter to my children: On deep breathing (how consciousness is really listening to the Voice of Love)

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My dearest Beloveds,

First let me say this. It makes your Momma very happy when the fingers pointing the moon are pointing to the same moon. Moreover, the fingers are in agreement as to the best path to the moon. What do I mean by that?

I mean that the same lessons your Momma learned in Conscious Discipline match what I am learning meditating with Joe Dispenza, practicing Kundalini, listening to Rob Wergin’s latest Divine Transmission Calls, and reading Megghan Watterson’s Mary Magdalene Revealed. All of these threads in your Momma’s life are teaching me the same thing with differing nuances and details - as though each of them is coloring the same picture blindly and yet the masterpiece emerges - all colors and edges intact without a muddy mess anywhere.

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