the goddess circle.

I'm sure you've all heard me rave about Goddess Leonie and her Goddess Circle, right?

After much talk, I decided the entire topic needs a post of its own. And so here it is. The Goddess Circle.

Never heard of Goddess Leonie and her fantastical, wonderful online biz? Start here. And then read her love story. And then read her daughter's birth story.

I found Leonie back in February 2011, at a particular time when I was having a dark night of the soul. I don't think I'd ever felt so low. And lost. I'd dragged myself out of the shower, blotted my tears, and curled up into a ball in bed, totally disconnected with my world and disillusioned with life, feeling so much sorrow and hopelessness that I felt physical pain. I'll always remember that night. I clutched my newly-acquired smartphone with a death grip as I trolled Twitter (I had recently become enamored with it!), alone in the dark with just the glow of the screen. And that's when I found Goddess Leonie. The tears were long gone hours later once I'd read all four parts of her birth story, dug through archives, read every sidebar link, watched her videos and listened to her contagious laugh and felt her spirit. I felt her through the screen and across continents and seas and I truly believe: Goddess Leonie found me and helped me through that dark, dark night.

I just, got it, you know? It clicked. It felt right.

I needed more.

And so that April I took a big breath and decided to do something I'd never done before: I joined her online women's circle. Her Goddess Circle. I spent the money. I joined an online community. I braved my fears and began sharing bits of myself there, slowly. I tried out the meditations and dabbled in the e-courses and downloaded every poster possible.


I had no idea how much I'd fall for this thing.

And that's why I'm here, almost a year later, telling you all about it. It's changed my life in ways I couldn't even imagine, and I want to share it with everyone I know.

My favorite parts of the Circle:

The Radiant Goddess e-course. By far, the best one I've tried yet. I'm still listening to the meditations and making the recipes from that course. (In fact, I think I want to give it another go! They're always there for you, so if you want to do it again you absolutely can.)

The Circle Guide groups. Within the Circle, there are these smaller, more personal groups led by a Circle Guide designated by Leonie. It took me a really long to feel comfortable and safe enough to share in there, and having Goddess Sara's group was absolutely what eventually got me talking. And now, our little group has become so close -- I love those women. Also, there are threads for every possible topic you could think of -- this season, I even joined a holiday ornament swap.

There's this little video Leonie made, a little mini-workshop about protecting your energy that I recall at least once a week. There's no link for it, but I promise you -- once you join and watch it, you'll think totally differently about human interaction.

The 2012 Creating Your Goddess Year Workbook and Calendar is another bit that comes free with membership. It's practically worth the money in and of itself! I joined halfway through 2011 so never really fully filled out the 2011 Calendar, but this year I'm all about the 2012 one. I love it. LOVE it.

I'm just finishing up the Creative Goddess e-course now. It's a 6-week program, but I started it in August! Ha. I love that I can take my time with it and really dive into all the videos, meditations, and projects. I never really thought of myself as a creative being until doing the course -- it woke something in me, and now I can't think of any other way to be :)

And there are of course all the meditations. Some are long, some are only 4 minutes (I like to keep the shorter ones on hand on my iPod for quick pick-me-ups). There's a fabulous Divine Dreaming Meditation Kit that I've listened to more times than I can count. And the Releasing Fears meditation. And the Healing Rains one. Okay, they're all amazing.

All of these kits, workbooks, e-courses, meditations -- they're all available for download so you can keep them for whenever you need them! And as Goddess Leonie releases more products and genius creations, you automatically get access to them as a member of the Goddess Circle.

(And don't forget all of Leonie's free stuff. I have bookmarks upon bookmarks in my browsers of posts that just totally touched me. I watch Goddess TV whenever I feel like I need a little more connection. The How to Be a Morning Goddess Manifesto revolutionized my mornings. I've printed out countless posters and they've become my bedroom art. It's all magical.)

For only $99 a year, I couldn't say no. (And she's totally understanding and lets you do a $33/month payment plan, which was awesome.)


Hurray! My own little testimonial to Goddess Leonie and her fantastical Circle. I've wanted to write this for a long time. This is so, so important in my life now. That's why I want to share it with you. If you have any questions about the Circle, don't hesitate to email -- I love talking about it! If you're interested in joining, I'll see you there :)


*As a matter of transparency, I'll tell you that I'm a proud affiliate for Leonie's works, which means I get a percentage of each sale that goes through from these links :)

a small part of my day

There is a quiet stretch of highway winding its way through the mountains, running alongside rivers and railroad tracks,

where there is absolutely no signal.

No cell phone reception. No service to reach Pandora. Not even enough antenna strength to get in a single radio station.

For those three minutes as I drive along, twice a day to work and back, I breathe. I remember the world still exists even without constant connection. Sometimes I worry about getting a flat tire or breaking down on the side of the road and having to walk the long distance to the closest gas station (and in the rain and snow this worry is multiplied), but mostly

I'm able to love this small -- yet powerful -- part of my day.

full disclosure

The lowest point of my day was sitting at a toddler table trying to spoon yogurt into the mouth of a very uninterested child, listening to a symphony of sippy cups as the kids all joined in slamming them down onto the fucking table over and over and over again amidst crying and coughing in my face and red paint strewn all over my knees and sleeves, and wanting nothing more than to stand up, throw the yogurt in the sink, and walk out.

The highest point of my day was realizing that this feeling of  never getting out, of it being impossible to leave and  just totally stuck in this point of my life, is completely untrue.

holiday season

It's finally here, and today I'm starting The Holiday Joy UP, hosted by Hannah Marcotti. It's ten days of gratitude, joy, and magic, and I'm already loving every minute of it.

How fantastic, to soak yourself in love and joy in the weeks leading up to the holidays, and create exactly what it is you'd like for yourself this season.

(And bonus! It's a pay-what-you'd-like course. So, my naysaying inner voice had no reason to convince me not to do this. And you can too.)


I'm thinking this is the perfect way to begin the holiday season. Cheers :)

courage in yes

today.

gratitude journal

the kitchen holiday

I'm so excited. And proud. And giddy, too.

My sister has finally started a blog.

A food blog!

It's been in the works for awhile and, being the perfectionist goddess that she is, Rachel's finally gotten it just right.

And it couldn't be better, or more Rachel.


Check out The Kitchen Holiday (she brands it as "invigorating cooking to soothe and enliven your senses") and stay tuned for more scrumptious recipes she's got up her sleeve. (Seriously, this girl has plans.) So far, she's posted about apple and caramelized onion tarts and pumpkin spice pancakes, complete with adorable iPhone photos of culinary life in her tiny D.C. kitchen.

I think you'll love her just as much as I do!

we can burn brighter than the sun.

In love. Deep, sweet love.

If only my car stereo speakers could blast this louder.


found via soul rebel

life lately.

Oh, it's been hard.

Hard but good and busy and full as well.

We lost power for ten days. Ten days is a long time to be without power. Emergency shelters were quickly set up and street captains volunteered and everyone sort of pulled together. But, as a friend put it, it felt more like "coming out of a deep depression." Being so totally disconnected and in the dark (literally and figuratively!) can do a number on the soul. So, we're glad it's over. Now for the catching up and cleaning up to ensue in full force. (And there's still a lot of it.)

I'm suffering from yet another sinus infection, the first of the season. Which is so, so disheartening, seeing as how I had nose surgery just five months ago to prevent this very thing. So I've been coping with these all-too-familiar symptoms -- low, low energy levels, constant headaches, aching ears, wicked congestion, painfully sore throat -- by doing the bare minimum. I'm not very good at this.

Amidst all this, I've been re-learning (yet again) how to take care of myself during my cycle. I always seem to forget, and I think it's just a matter of not having fully learned these lessons yet. I'm taking comfort and guidance in Hannah Marcotti's words. (They feel like heaven-sent sacred passages.) And remembering tea and moving slowly and the power of saying no.

My birthday didn't nearly go as planned. And yet, here I am -- 24. My parents gifted me with a prized new lens that hasn't come off my camera since. I'm in love. And so curious as to what she can't capture beautifully.

I've also fallen in love with habit, this month especially. Taking comfort in all the wise words and collective daily photography feels like a sweet soul medicine. (And I've been featured, once!)



I'm curious to know where your lives have been, lately, too. I hope you're all well :)

{this moment}

 {this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Inspired by SouleMama :)

a grateful birthday.

So. Here it is. Teetering at the edge of twenty-four years, my life. Almost a quarter of a century! Tomorrow, I will have been on this Earth for a complete twenty-four years. And will be about to swoop into my twenty-fifth year.

This feels huge to me.

Transformative.

Revolutionary.

Of course, this is still only my second birthday since I decided to take them back. To reinvent them. To devise a totally new definition for its term and meaning.

Of course.

Of course this is huge. It is huge.

A birthday contemplated for weeks (months, even). Meticulously planned. Cautiously organized. To use my best truth and judgment to masterfully create a day celebrating my birth into a new year.

This is huge.

Last year, I was shocked to realize I didn't have to be vulnerable to other peoples' whims. To be subject to their moods or words or wallets. Why yes, I thought. I don't even need to be around anyone at all. And so I did just that. I took myself away for the day, without work or cell services or greetings of birthday wishes, away across the state to a cozy little Ayurvedic spa where I pampered myself silly.

Alone.

Gloriously alone.

Did you know some people celebrate their birthdays alone every year? I hadn't.

Yet I did just that. I made no plans for a party or seeing friends. I went home that evening and had dinner with my parents and that was that.

It was utterly satisfying.

This year, I've thought long and hard about how I'd like to celebrate.

And when I really tuned in and listened, I heard a tiny little voice wanting friends at this birthday. A select few, hand-picked people.

It started with a small list in my journal, meticulously deciding who I wanted to invite in to this day.

It grew to sixteen people.

And most of them are able to come. What a shift. Not only from last year, but in my life.

So my birthday night will find me settled into a cozy mill-turned-restaurant, listening to live music and toasting with friends on my sides.



And yet I'd like to be alone on this birthday, too.

Alone, yes.

On Saturday I'll shut off my phone and drive up the coast, with no destination. With nothing but a loaded iPod and a tank full of gas and a map, perhaps.

To give myself space for celebrating and breathing and looking back and looking ahead. For applauding myself and giving myself a birthday present.

I used to make lists on my birthday of all I wanted to do in the coming year. But now, gratitude feels extra important. I'd much rather realize all I've done in my 24th year, since I turned 23.

Once I did this, and made a list in my journal of all I could think of, I was astounded. Just look.

In the past year, I have:

: quit a job that didn't serve me the night before my last birthday
: opened an Etsy shop
: asked for an early raise, and got it
: found a new job in a creative field, closer to what I'd like to be doing full-time
: discovered GoddessGuidebook.com, and let it transform me
: joined an online women's circle
: started meditating
: joined Twitter
: let my sweet cat go
: totally reinvented my lunch hours
: realized I feel most like myself with long hair and let it grow
: started truly journalling
: did a raw food cleanse
: took back my birthdays

Leaps and bounds! If you had shown 20-year-old-Ruth this list, even 23-year-old-Ruth, she would have scoffed at it. Wouldn't have believed it.

This life is a beautiful thing.

solitude is blessed.

For lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless
and lonely is healing if you make it.

Cause if you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay.

:: Tanya Davis ::

things are changing.

Things are shifting. Change is afoot, waiting to make its mighty entrance.

I can feel it.

Can you?

The sun is in Scorpio now and my cells must be remembering when I first came alive, under this sun and during this season, almost 24 years ago now.

It is remembering.

Last week I decided to take myself for a long walk through the sunny woods, and as I was making my way up the hill from the field beyond my parents' house, I nearly stepped on a massive garter snake, frozen in the leaves. Time stood still and he stared up at me with bulging, beady eyes and as soon as I screamed and tried to change my step just an inch to the right (almost falling over), he slithered away through the dry leaves and vanished. As soon as I recovered from the fright (I can't remember the last time I ever saw even a tiny garter snake in this yard), I had a good laugh. I went inside, flung open my copy of Animal Speak, and read this:

           Anytime a snake shows up as a totem, you can expect death and rebirth to occur in some area of your life. This rarely reflects an actual death but rather a transition. Look for a change in conditions and a movement to new life. . . . . It can also reflect that your own creative forces are awakening. The stimulation of the kundalini usually has physiological as well as spiritual consequences. Physiologically it can activate the sexual drive, bring more energy, etc. Spiritually it can stimulate greater perception of how to apply your insight and intuition. Your own vision and and intuition will become more accurate.

Of course. Of course. Transition, rebirth, new life, applying intuition. Of course.


The desire for recalling my gratitude for the previous days has strengthened. Somehow, it feels extra important right now to be remembering these things, these tiny little slivers of everyday life that are actually huge, revolutionary moments to be stored away in my brain. This feels SO important.

Two days ago I forgot to write these things down in my journal, and instead listed them mentally as I fell asleep. The next morning at work, a father of one of the children in my classroom gave me this: (Ashley, my coworker, received one also)

And with this heartfelt (and so random!) thank-you note, we each got a gift card for coffee and apparel from the university where he works.

Talk about being grateful and getting more in return, eh?


The Universe is just astounding me these days. Things are changing. Things are shifting. Things are moving.

Things, good things, are coming.

gratitude journal

From Friday, October 21st:

1. Walking in the woods wrapped in a sweater and a scarf.

2. The smell of woodstove smoke.

3. The calling of the crows outside.

4. Serendipitously leaving my cell phone at home all day long, just after I thought seriously about cutting back on technology time!

5. Chats with coworkers about first kisses.

6. The silence surrounding the pond, deep in the woods.

7. This song (oh my gosh, this song!) :

inklings of consciousness.

In South Africa, I awoke.

I had been in a deep sleep, one of those slumbers where the entire world can't touch you, where you're oblivious to the sounds of doors closing and people shouting outside your bedroom and someone at your bedside snatching your favorite book from your nightstand.

I didn't hear any of it.

But even though these slumbers can be so deep and all-encompassing, all it can take is a breeze to brush against your hair or a change in temperature or a whisper in your ear to slowly bring you to consciousness.

Consciousness. That's it, isn't it? The stuff of life?

After living in South Africa for four months almost four years ago, I began to come to. I began to feel the bed beneath my body and the blankets covering me and the pillow supporting my head. I wasn't wiggling my toes or opening my eyes and I still had no idea where I was and I surely wasn't moving about, but I heard the whisper.

"Enough, Ruth. It's time to wake up."




My mind couldn't comprehend. I had been tossed (quite voluntarily) into this deeply broken country which was in the midst of years upon years of healing, and the disparity was just too much to make sense of.

Gated mansions to my left, corrugated metal shacks to my right.  

No. This couldn't be.

I have seen destitution before. I have spent a year working in an inner city public school and have traveled to Haiti with an immersion group. In Hartford -- the poverty didn't nearly compare. In Haiti -- there was zero wealth to compare the poverty to.

South Africa felt totally, totally different.



It was also my first time living far away from home, on my own. I needed to be present enough to take care of myself. I needed to fly 22 hours there. I needed to obtain very foreign currency from my US bank account. I needed to get myself to class. I needed to be on my own in a first grade classroom, where Xhosa was the  main language. I needed to live in a house with ten strangers. I needed to be away from everyone, and everything, I knew, while navigating spotty internet and expensive cell phone service.

To be dead asleep while trying to manage these things is incredibly difficult.

Which is why I needed to wake up.



Slowly, bit by bit, without even being aware of it, consciousness crept into my mind. Table Mountain mesmerized me. The wild, natural landscape of KwaZulu-Natal inspired me. My two very best friends I had made supported me. The people of Cape Town taught me of their journeys.

And also, anxiety became a regular companion. A natural companion, amidst the disparity and confusion and just-awake stupor. As I came into being, birthing myself into this new world, my mind was trying so hard to keep up.

But something shifted. Hugely.



The thought of ever returning to South Africa brings immediate pangs of nervousness and anxiety and churning, and yet --

it calls to me, like a birthplace.

Looking through these photos from that trip soothes my soul, despite the anxiety. They remind me of how asleep I once was, how far I've transitioned out of that very basic survival mode, how much more conscious I am today. And how much more conscious I'll inevitably become tomorrow, and the day after that, and a year from now.


It's good to look back, and realize.

i want the feeling.

I want to stand beneath the bright white light of a full moon 

and throw my arms and heart open wide and proclaim to the world: 

"Yes! This is it. This is my life! . . . . . And I'm happy!"

I want to be so bursting with life that I can't even contain it.

waiting and becoming.

 

"After nearly two years, I had absolutely nothing tangible to show for two whole years of my life.....I wanted my new life to start yesterday. So why was it taking so long?.....Have I mentioned that I'm really bad at waiting? I wanted to fast forward through the whole process and find out where I was going to BE. Which means (you guessed it), I was definitely not living in the moment.....I've since realized that those two years were critical, potent, fertile years of development, during which I planted all the seeds that are now blossoming.

I now call those two years my Waiting and Becoming years."

:: Dr. Lissa Rankin ::

a horse-y photo shoot

A glimpse into my shoot last week for my dear friend Lauren and her mom, riding at a show at Independence Stable in Belchertown, Massachusetts.



There's something about documenting a person (or animal!) at their happiest, most natural state that makes me yearn for more of this.

I think I'll recruit my mother and little sister to be my next models.

as it was born to do.

"When a bird takes flight, we don’t study the way it looks, 

or how it flies, or if it should be up there, 

defying gravity and fear and perfection. 

It just is – a miracle, a bird flying as it was born to do. 

Just like you and me."

:: Leonie Dawson ::

note to self.

Good morning, dear readers.

Rain is falling and I have a hot mug of chai nearby and a dark, quiet house all to myself and finally a morning off from work

and things are looking brighter, today.


Yesterday, I walked down to the pond and stood at its edge, and spoke aloud of the things I want.  I told the Universe (or God, or Goddess, or Great Spirit, or what-have-you) that I intend to get these things, but that I need help. I then wrote down a lengthy list of all that I needed to do back at home that night, and then all of the things that I wanted to do, afterwards. (I always have such trouble distinguishing the two.)


That short little walk through the woods, after a really messy day, did wonders for my soul, I'm sure of it.

Note to self: Step into nature more often. It's more healing than you'd think.

this mess of your life is your life.

Jen Lemen once wrote:

"This mess of your life is your life."

And I remember feeling bowled over backwards, like I had been smacked in the face, only really I felt like I was falling uncontrollably forwards, towards something good, something healing.

Like I was diving into something true.

On days like today, when everything seems off-kilter and backwards and unbalanced and wrong and just plain messy, when I just want to go back to bed and do it all over and try, try so hard, for something to give and a lightbulb to go off in my head while I think, "Oh yes! That's it! That's what I needed to make this day right!" these kinds of days make me feel like my life is just a jumbled mess and forGod'ssake, get with it, Ruth.

And yet, this jumbled mess of my life is my life. This is it. In between the waking up late and the tired aching body and the irritating coworkers and the salad for lunch that went soggy and the wishinghopingpraying for a more satisfying kind of job and the growing list of tasks I keep stored in my brain as I drive and the snowball of guilt and regret that tumbles behind me on a regular basis and oh yes! the ever-present sadness of the death of my sweet, soul-companion kitty just days ago --

this is where it's happening.


And so I let it all in. It was around 11:00 this morning, and I decided to just give in. I didn't wallow, and I didn't self-pity, I just accepted it. I fell into it.

Yes, today life sucks. I'm feeling totally overwhelmed by it and just don't have the energy and support to pull myself up out of this hole. So I may as well sit and take a breather, while I'm here.

This acknowledgement, this owning of it, helps.

This mess of my life is my life.


But I'm coming to believe that it's in these messes where the real good stuff happens.

hard as flint.

As for life,

I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen—
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort—
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?

: Mary Oliver : 

today's the day.

Stella was introduced on this blog, and I feel like I wrote about her all the time.

And now I'll say goodbye on this blog.

Thank you, Stella.

solace.

"Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's all right."

: Corrinne Bailey Rae, Put Your Records On :

today.

(A few photos of life spinning by, in my blog absence.)

There's time to be awake and time to be asleep. Today, there was time to scrape by at work, fall in love with this post, take a hot shower, and write this post. Not much else. Except for sleep.

When I feel my menstrual cycle rolling in, my body craves sleep. The tiniest detail of life causes feelings of overwhelm and defeat to spring up, and so today, I'm thinking that my easiest possible solution is to give up on the resistance.

Good night :)