Inner Adult

Summer is most often a time for letting loose, toes in the sand, heat of the sun baking the stress right out of your pores.

I want to invite you into a very different summer cycle: that of the inner adult. Not much fun sounding, eh? Nope. But oh, the rewards.

Now is the time to do some soul exploration. Find your garden seat, your cafe table, your lap with a journal.

  1. make two lists

  2. one list: what is holding you back (that you love, that is part of you, that you know is no longer in your highest interest…..such as behaviors, beliefs about yourself, characteristics that you excuse, etc)

  3. one list: what you will repattern, add in, draft for a new way of being

There is energy right now to support this work. It is always swirling around us, in the stars, with the planets, through conjunctions and sextiles and cosmic squares. No one needs to know much about astrology, or even believe in it, to benefit from what it has to offer.

The whole of the cosmos are in order. Period. Not for the sake of humankind, not with an earth/human orientation. It is all in order. Period. It is perfection. It is abundant and slow and swift and revolutionary and transformative and comforting.

The sun is our most powerful star. We live and die, literally, by it. The moon is guardian of our tides. The cosmos are in a dance that has been going on for eternity and into eternity. Why do we fight this so much? For Christians, there is a fear of offending God, or removing God from “his” rightful throne. But it is that God of Christian understanding which put those planets and stars into orbits. Orbits and locations that are mind blowing. So, ok, I’ll go easy on the folks who can’t yet wrap their minds around the universe.

We are in a phases of retrogrades right now. Some are long, some are fast, some happen several times a year and some come and go only once in a generation. Retrograde simply means that were you to observe a planet’s orbit through a telescope, it would appear to be moving backwards. From an astrological viewpoint, we note where in our charts it is moving over 3 times during its retrograde pass; for that is where the personal work is to be done.

But, even if you don’t want to hear all of that…..don’t worry. It is enough to just engage in the growth assignment that I’ve already listed above. It never hurts us to review where we’ve been so we can let loose and move on. Like shaking yesterday’s sand out of the swimsuit, so we can get it back on the next day.

To your growth and with love,


2 feet 2 places

I have been heard to describe myself as part church girl and part cosmic girl. It is how I see myself. And now I see myself in this way, but through a stronger, more powerful lens.

Because sometimes the way we used to see ourselves was through a lens of wound or lack. And after the fire, we can see those same attributes through a lens of becoming.

It is true. I was brought up 4th generation in my little denomination. Church of the Brethren. Look it up. There is some really good stuff there. In my adulthood, (after a lifetime of Sunday School, choir, summer camps, youth conferences, college that is affiliated, seminary) I became an ordained minister in the church. I am part of the institutional organization. I’ve benefited from it. I’ve honed my leadership skills in it. I am grateful.

I am also jaded, cynical, and able to see it differently now.

Add to this, a high dose of cosmic spirituality, where the Sacred is ginormous and love abounds. I breath easy in this space. And, I am jaded and cautious.

Both worlds are ridiculously amazing and ridiculously in need of caution.

I love them both.

My own soul’s journey in this life has been hard. Not brutal, like that of south and central American immigrants, but on a human scale of hurt and the smashing down of one’s identity, smothered by the infantile needs of others. Through this my mantra shifted from “If Amy’s going to be taken care of, Amy has to do it.” to “If Amy’s going to be taken care of, Amy has to do it.” See the difference? I sure can. Just saying it while I write this I can feel the energy shift. The first one is said with petulant disappointment. The second one is stated with strength.

I am now, this day, again an employed pastor in the Church of the Brethren. Both times I’ve said yes to a congregation have been to vital, interesting, justice oriented, love fed groups of people. I am grateful. This time around, I am bringing nearly 30 years of experience in my groovy new leather bag, and plan to plop it right into the center of this church. They get it all. Because I know now that it isn’t finite. The riches of experience are an abundant flow from a deep source well. What great luck and opportunity to let it gush for these fine folk.

And the cosmic girl still gets to explore time, space, and outer/inner landscapes. Mystery is the threshold I walk confidently through.

All of the grit, the fire, the tears, the temper tantrums and meltdowns, the panic attacks, the disbelief, the insecurity, the face-offs are worth it.

Today, I’m claiming that church girl/cosmic girl sphere of reality. It is within and around and beyond and I intend to explore every last bit of it. It is there here and now, the now and not yet. It is indeed “so above so below”….it is the earth and heavenly experience all wrapped up in one.

And I really really really want you to know that this is not just my story. This is the story. It is redemption and salvation. It is the wound and the healing. It is the Sacred that is always present, whatever your current NOW looks like. Let’s get going. You’re ready.

With Love,


The path to health

There is no path to health.

None that can be marked on a map.

But make a map, you will.

The cartographers of old, had to sail the seven seas through storm and gale, through calm and sun, through drought and scurvy to reach land, and land again. They didn’t always get it right. Columbus thought he landed in India. He was wrong. You are going to be wrong. But you are also going to be right.

For that is the way of it. We journey through deserts and amazonian jungle rivers without a guide, sherpa, or camel. Just ourselves putting a foot here and then there.

Along the way of our journey toward wholeness, we will meet people. We will engage modalities of energy. We will be listened to. We will listen to ourselves. We will learn what our own lived symbolism means.

But you are the only one who can map your journey.

However. The good news.

You are not alone. You are never lost. You can create homebase to come back to, to reflect in, to regather bearings, to get a second opinion. And then go out there again.

When we take our journey on the road, we will eventually learn that the truest journey is within. When you reach a critical mass of wholeness, you’ll know that you can engage your own journey from anywhere. But still, go and be challenged. Go and flourish. Come back to home base ready for the next level.

Do it.

Peace and Courage,


Children in Cages

There are children in cages.

Don’t look away.

Let your heart be broken.

Weep at the thought of your own kids, unwashed, poorly fed, sick, separated from mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters.

Be angry, not at parents who “illegally” bring their children across a southern border. Be angry at political machinations over decades which have left central and south America reeling with poverty, gangs, and no safety. Be angry that the choice is to stay and die, stay and watch your children die/be raped/forced into gangs…..or seek asylum in a country with vast wealth. (seeking asylum is legal).

I have known friends who have traveled for fun and broken an arm or gotten sick in Cuba, England, Sweden, Iceland, Canada….and they go to the hospital are seen, treated and released for under $100. People traveling for fun or education. Optional. No threat of death or loss of children.

But here, where we have the potential for greatness, choose to cage children.

Karma is real. It is also known as cause and effect. You’ve heard of that? We cannot cage thousands of children, mistreat them, demean them, treat them worse than we treat animals, and then be surprised when they grow up and wage war on the US. We are the world we are creating. And it isn’t pretty. Or nice. Or kind. And most certainly not Christian.

So, what are you going to do?

I’m giving money. TogetherRising is where I’m sending my money. It is Glennon Doyle’s organization. She receives no money from this nonprofit. She has kept it administratively nimble so your $10 $20 $100 is used in direct care to reunite families.

What are you going to do?

It is not yet too late. But it soon will be. Let us turn the tide of the story. Let us match the deplorable governmental decisions with high vibration of matchless love. It is not too late.

May your peace be disrupted,


labyrinths of weeds

I’ve walked labyrinths made from stone and seashell, from canvas, on intricate tile. Today’s labyrinth was made of dirt, weeds, and wood chips.

My hubz has his second garden plot in a community garden endeavor. It get full sun, so he has particular plantings there. He invited me along today, so that I could walk the labyrinth there. “Goodness”, I exclaimed. A labyrinth! So I went.

One must go prepared to a labyrinth. Usually it is simply with the willingness to enter in. This farm labyrinth required hearty shoes and jeans. At first glance the eye follows the pathway made of dirt clods. Beloved hubz let me know that the grass is the actually path, and helped me find the entrance. It was a little obscure. I had on sandles at first. Soon, the thistles began to sting. Happily, I had those heartier shoes in the Jeep, and on a swing of the circuit close to the entrance, I slipped off path and re-shod my feet. Much better.

I decided to not get a full view intake of the pathways, allowing the unfolding instead with each step. In this way, the walking forced a pace that could be unhurried, because I might get to the center soon, or late, but I would get there in time.

Along the way were yellow headed dandelions, white fluffy seed headed dandelions, naked without costume dandelions…flourish to spent. There was red clover, white clover, broad leaf plantain, nettles a’plenty. What I really enjoyed was the crunch crunch crunch on the wood chips.

Soon enough, the weathered slats of the compost bin was dead on ahead, but this was not the center. I skirted around it, on the carefully laid path, and kept walking. Again, soon enough, the path ended. It was a place to stand, to turn, to give thanks, to feel the sun. I opened my eyes to see Kurt over yonder in the garden, handmade hoe and floppy hat his companions, bent to his task. My heart always leaps to spy him unaware; no matter the grit, the grime, the machinery oil.

I think it is always tempting, when one knows they are half way through their journey, to take the shortcut to the end. I was tempted now. But to what end? To sit in the hot Jeep and wait? No, I kept crunching along, happy to be moving. My hips ached a bit, but it was a warm, sweet ache of gratitude for getting to stretch a bit after a 2 month hiatus. My goober knees were flexible and strong. Enough anyway. And I was enjoying myself.

A journey is a good thing. One of a thousand steps, or 2278 on a labyrinth. We see life down to its buggy details and blossoming vitality. We get dirty, but are unhurried. We can take a short cut if we wanna, or keep going.

You, too, can walk this labyrinth. It is located at Miller Farm, of Earlham College. Wear hearty shoes and jeans.

With crunch love,


But HOW do I love myself?

But how do I love myself? What is this self love you speak of?

I don’t know.

I asked a friend this just this morning over brunch. I’ve witnessed her self rising over the past 7 years. Our conclusions are that it is simply a journey.

Like going to Europe back in the 60s, 70s, 80s… internet, just a series of word of mouth suggestions for the next train, next hostel, next seaside pad to stay at. But there is no step-by-step process. No one size fits all method toward your true self and the love that is just waiting for you there.

There are components. I think that the most basic component is that of determination and intention. Some people will stumble into self love. But why stumble when you can take the first step out that particular door onto that particular journey.

Be prepared: it will take years. Like the Hebrews leaving Egypt and taking 40 years to reach the promised land. Did you know that this journey is no more than a month, two for meandering, to actually walk? Sure, it is desert and there were animals etc. Not the camino de santiago. But 40 years? The journey to selfhood is long.

Here are some possible components to put in your groovy backpack on your journey to you

  • intention

  • reflection on what you are leaving

  • observing the voices in your head, and making friends with them

  • bringing in new voices that are helpful to where you are going

  • an emotional rearview mirror while you walk forward…..looking back informs us but should no longer form us…take all the peeks backward you need but keep your feet moving forward

  • some shoes that make you feel like a dancer, hiker, badass, queen

  • openness to reinvention

  • soft touches to your actual body and being

  • companions who will reinforce where you are going

  • permission to revert back

  • permission to pick it back up

See? There is nothing cut in stone. My own journey was about mystery, spirit, story telling till I was sick of hearing it myself, a creative moment that allowed me to see new possibilities. I’m clearly still on the journey but more like Bear Grylls rather than a college student during their study abroad year. I’m at a growth level and can take and leave things. I can chuckle when I go into full on Amy-from-Before mode. There were points when I changed jobs and even houses, allowing for blank slates….but mostly it was a process using the environments I was already in. My reactions and responses to people informed me of myself. Did I like how I responded? Why did this person set me off? What are they showing me?

Rather than narcissism, which is self orientation due to woundedness, Self Love is about respect and honor of who we truly are, ultimately spilling out to others.

Story: when I was a newly minted high school graduate, I weighed just 115 pounds. I was at the home of a boy I was dating and we were planning on helping his brother and sister-in-law open their pool the next day. I showed up the next day fully covered. I could not imagine being in shorts and a T or a swimsuit because I knew I was fat. I weighed 115 pounds. I was not fat. But I believed my own stories of always being 20 pounds heavier and a size bigger than all my friends. Later…meaning now….I did become the large person I thought I was then. I would love to think I can recapture that youthful figure, but I won’t. So I must love myself now. A month ago I injured my left knee. My knees are big and fleshy and round and nobody sees my knees. But my Acu-Hubby wanted to do acupuncture on the knee to mitigate the inflammation. I exposed the knee and while he put 5 needles into my flesh, I actually and instinctively spoke and touched my knees the way I would a child who had been hurt, or my dog, or a baby bird that had fallen out of the nest. There was not a moment of judgment or embarrassment or even shame at these large joints that hurt. It was just love. I noted it because it was a rare sighting of Self Love that matched my physical reality. It made me happy.

How did I get there? I shrug my shoulders at that question, while a montage in my mind plays out rituals, conversations, books read, self help, shamanic journeys, soul work and love. The more I love, in general, the more my self love just happens.

The more I love, in general, the more my self love just happens.

And the more self love, the more the wide broadcasting of love to anyone, anything in my view.

To your self love. It is everything.



I pay attention to patterns when they show up from various places, people, and inner ponderings.

This week, geez, it has been about the heart. I listen for a living. This week I’ve listened to the stories of childhoods gone amuck from adult indecision, immaturity, negligence, and badness. I will say and then move on, that all parents who are doing it badly were 100% parented into a wounded place which they never matured out of. But that is another bit of writing.

As I listened this week to the stories of grief and longing about what had been and what never will be, the universe sang in my ears a refrain; we are our own redemption.

I see it like this.

The very skills we developed as kids to survive whatever it was that we were living through (and lets face it, no comparisons here….childhood wounds are childhood wounds. period.)….are our very strengths. A common refrain I hear is “No one would took care of me unless I took care of me.” It is spoken, sometimes with spit of truth and hurt propelling from the telling. It is spoken, sometimes with resignation. Once, I heard it spoken….then a pause……then an inward gaze that lasted a lifetime…and finally “I know exactly how to take care of myself!” Eyes big and bright as if seeing for the first time life on earth from the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. Her own life as she lived it from the center of her knowing heart. I knew that in that moment the one who uttered those words would never tell her story the same way again. She had tasted her own power….that had been there the whole time…..and it tasted like grit and lemon and 60 year old scotch downed in one gulp (swiping her mouth with the back of her hand.)

She knew best how to take care of herself, so she did.

This completely flips the woe to Whoa. It flips the victim into the super hero.

And that is the point. We are all our own super heroes. What would it look like if we as adults, parented and friended with the following:

  • nourishment

  • comfort

  • safety

  • respect

  • curiosity

  • empowerment

  • play

  • failure and getting back up

While also:

  • teaching our kids/engaging friends that they have everything they need to be mighty already within them.

  • guiding their gaze back to self discovery

And I think we can do this now if we are the adults who still carry our childhood wounds. The wound points less to actions taken against our well being, and more to being bereft of any knowledge that we are amazingly gifted to live this complex life.

I watched it yet again this morning with a beloved client who is past retirement and still freighted with bags of burden that were thrust onto him when he was a kid. We’ve taken everything out of those cases, have touched them, have had some fall apart from dusty age. Leave ‘em be. Set them down and walk away. Live the life ahead. ( I find the image of a person walking down a dirt road with that suitcase in hand, but the top is open and there is a line of strewn clothing and objects from the past falling out, until the case is empty and finally tossed aside.)

And this is the core of what I know now to be a healthy, fully alive healing human:

  1. we must acknowledge what happened

  2. walk away from whatever we need to walk away from

  3. craft our living from this day forward according to what we know is best for us

There are about two-thousand other points that go with these three….we have to love ourselves and stop waiting for anything outside of us to love us as we need.

Because we know how to love ourselves and are the best at doing just that.

The magic is that once we begin that healthy self-discovery and self-love….it expands. I love that. Love always expands.

And that is my hopeful thought for this day. Love yourself. Tell your story. Note your power to survive. Craft your life from here on out.

I already love you,


Letting Go

I think this title comes up a lot. It sure does show up in my newsfeeds and memes. I’ve crafted my daily intake to be filled with quality images and words that keep me moving in the direction I’ve chosen.

But yesterday I noticed something. The admonition to “let go” doesn’t always comes with the ‘how to”. We are told to walk away from toxic relationships, to let go of behaviors and beliefs that no longer serve us, to do self care, to endure, to persevere and persist……

But how?

A simple suggestion, I offer. But it is kind of a big idea.


Yes, replace. We so focus on the letting go that we haven’t given much thought to what will take its place. If we let go of a pattern of hours of facebook scrolling, what then will we do? If we change our diet, what then will we eat? If we walk away from toxic family or friends, who will we end up with?

So this is what came to me recently. We replace. We start with what we want. We begin with pushing out what we don’t want.

For example: If we want to reduce Facebook time, put the phone down and go walk around the block. If we want to reduce mindless eating, hop in the car and go to the grocery store and buy those gorgeous strawberries and blueberries (Local and in season is even better!). If we want to change the mantras in our head that lay down reverberations of negativity, self hate, denial, not enoughness….listen to the music that makes you dance and sends you the messages you want to hear because they are true.

Go lay down in the grassy knoll of a local park or farmland, and watch the clouds scoot by. Imagine yourself till you are broad of smile and tingling within. If you need to get some training in so you can change courses, do it. If you need to change where you purchase your clothing because you are changing your visual appearance, do it a piece at a time.

Be you. Fill you with you. In so doing, what you want will displace what you don’t want, and it will come slopping out of the jar. It will make a mess, for sure.

  • People won’t quite know what to do with you and so those negative relationships will drop out of site. Goodbye.

  • You’ll match the quality of your clothes to the quality of yourself and your closet excess of clothes that cover you up will have space for the few magnificent pieces needed to highlight magnificent you.

  • You will both feel lost at sea AND the captain of your own ship, at the same time.

  • The job that sucks you dry will be the money maker for the work you love to do and then one day you’ll hand in your notice and be on your way.

  • The whispery jerks in your head will fade, replaced by Enya sounding angel voices or emphatic declarations like Freddie Mercury that do not offer false support but echo the truth of you as it rolls around freely in your whole being.

Replace. Fill. Spill over.

Spiritual Direction is a great fit for this process. We will tell old war stories and if I suspect your wound is still bleeding out or you are stuck in a place of precious mental precariousness, we’ll make sure you are connected to the right therapist. But if your wound is scabbed and scarred and you are ready to move on, then for your sake, let’s go.

I can’t wait for this to come to be in your life.

With Love,


Compost in the Alley

Our home is bordered by two alleyways. The one on the south side needs regular monthly trimming so that our neighbors’ cars don’t get scratched. The one on the east side is our own little English Village pathway to a beloved neighbor’s house. It is green, and virtually no one drives on it.

But the leaves come down and are mooshed into the pavement by the cars that do drive through. It is not unsightly, but we are urged by our local neighborhood association to spruce things up in the Spring.

Ok. Will do.

With flat shovel in hand, I set out to do this job. It isn’t hard, but is a bit back breaking. I suspect I don’t actually know how to shovel efficiently. But there is discovery of more than physical impact.

There is compost.

Rotted leaves and twigs festoon the alley in a thin layer. Like carpet. Like a parade route the next day. It shovels easily. There is even still the pruned poison ivy vines from last year. I thought they would wither and die. Hmmmm.

As I bent to shovel, I was hit with the updraft of mold, fungus, damp, earth. It was luscious and delicious. And in the rot, there was life.

In the rot, there was life.

Little green sprouts rising from the rich soil of spent leaves. Amazing!

Let’s take this metaphor in a direction that is less praise worthy of compost.

When we do our inner work of letting go and dropping old narratives and mental mantras that do us wrong, where do we put them? Like the leaves that fell last Fall, there has to be a process for proper disposal. Some guides and counselors will call this Psychological Toileting. Isn’t that a fun phrase? It could also be Spiritual Toileting.

It is the process of truly being done with what no longer serves us. A move from surviving to thriving that we must make lest we get stuck, with wheels spinning on the slick, wet refuse beneath. The last thing we want is for new growth out of the old mess. The next to the last thing we want is to repeat the patterns that necessitate survival.

Here are some thought for what you can do with your psychological and spiritual refuse:

  • ritualize the release with fire, wind or water

  • write the full story, with full honesty, including the possible “whys” that someone or something did you wrong, and literally close the book

  • go to the person you’re at odds with and tell your side, then listen to their side, then shake hands and pack up

  • leave this thing as you walk toward a new thing

  • and my favorite…..forgive with a compassionate heart

These things serve your higher goals of growth and maturing. We are all remembering the perfect love from which we came into this earth-life, and honestly, we can enact it now. Our intentions set the motion which we follow through with the body. We release, we forgive, we move forward.

In my east-side alley, where I’ve scraped the old stuff off the pavement, there are stains. the compost has left its mark. But I know, with enough rain, it will wash clean and be merely a memory. And next Fall? I’ll get out there earlier, while the leaves are light and fresh, and clean as the season goes along.

In our inner beings, once we clean down to the stains and imprints, we can let new choices wash away any remnant. We’ll be more aware at the outset of potential obstacles to our well being, and clear them away as we go.

With love and a little stinky dirt under my nails,


Where did it come from?

This year marks 150 years of baseball, and the Cincinnati Reds were the first professional team. I listened to a wonderful podcast of anecdotes from over the years. One of the best stories was one a man called in and said that it was his great-great-grandmother who made the first baseball uniforms for the Cincinnati team. She had a lot of red fabric so that was what she made the “stockings” out of. That is how they got their name: Red Stockings. The historians on the show were falling over themselves with glee, because this was a verifiable story, through letters, notes, and a headline when the dear seamstress passed away.

It is good to know our stories.

It is equally good to know where our information comes from.

In the antique world, the term is “provenance.” It means that a seller but have authenticated whether that end table truly came from the palace in Luxembourg or if it was made to look like it in the back yard shop.

Tell me your stories. I will listen.

When we set down to tell our own stories, there is often a moral pause in our telling, because we want our memory to be true. And in that pause, we often weigh in the fact that siblings or parents or others around at the time of the story’s making don’t remember it like we do. And we begin to doubt that it happened the way we remember.

This is important, especially when our stories that we are unraveling are hard, abusive, exploitative. When our stories are about abandonment, self loathing, parental abstenteeism, we want to get confirmation.

Barbara Brown Taylor once said in a class that when we write memoir, we don’t need to go back and check in with everyone. Our story is true. Even if it looks different from others who were there. She had a student who dropped a project because she couldn’t get all the '“facts” about a beloved Christmas memory to jibe when she spoke with brothers and her father.

There is an idea, that your story, my story, their story, about the same happening, come together to create a holographic whole. But that doesn’t make any one story less true.

What are your stories? Will they shock? Will they make the hearer weep?

When a client speaks to me of their stories, I believe them. I also know that what is being told to me is just part of the story. It is part of the story that the psyche is allowing to be told, or that holds the least amount of pain, or is mentioned to sway me in one direction or another. As a guide, it is my job to hone my expert skills of listening sharply. When I have two clients, on different occasions, tell me differing things about the same event, I’ve learned to not be triangulated. I’ve learned to just work with what has been offered to work with. Because that is the point of that session. What is the client wanting to reveal at that time? What is being offered as a willing peak behind the curtain…just a smidge….a blink… see something.

That “something” is everything. And we can work with that. The bigger scene will escape at some point, and then we’ll work with that. It is really quite a beautiful process.

Your process is beautiful. And it doesn’t have to be perfect before you come and see me. You don’t have to have pledge a statement to be fixed before we can start sitting in the room with the closed curtains. We’ll get there soon enough.

My work with you, with anyone, is an unveiling. A holy process of self revelation. Let’s do that together.

Peace and Joy,