Thank you Deborah. Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your vulnerability. Thank you for your humanity. In your words, and in the spaces between them, we all see ourselves too. Looking back lets us know just how far we’ve come. Time certainly does feel like a thief. Those small moments where we found time stand still- still wrap their arms around us. We write on. For forgiveness. For healing. For hope. We write on as an act of resilience which opens up the doors where transformation waits. Just know your words will always be read. Just know we truly are never alone. Thanks so much for Being- Here. It’s definitely a journey. A soul journey. 🙏❤️
Thank you so much, Jamie. Your soul whispering and kindness are truly a gift. It’s amazing how beautifully you express what so many of us feel yet struggle to put into words. The way you capture the universality of this journey we’re all on - and reflect on resilience and transformation - truly resonates. Writing has this incredible power to hold us together, doesn’t it? Let’s keep writing, keep hoping, and keep opening those doors to hearts and minds, bodies and souls, to where new possibilities await. I’m so grateful to be on this journey with you. Namaste ❤️🙏
Wow Deborah, this is heart wrenching, beautifully written and full of wisdom. I too left home at 18, (not my choice) and although I didn't write about it, am essentially estranged from my mother at this point. Also not my choice, and as I read about you reaching out to your daughter I think, what I wouldn't give to have a mother caring so much.
Thank you for mentioning me in your post. I read through the other comments here, and am sitting here in wonder and appreciation of the effect telling our stories has on others.
Kristi, thank you so much for inspiring me last week to finally write about a topic I hadn’t found the courage to explore in depth before. Your kind and encouraging words mean so much to me. Sharing even a small yet deep part of our stories can be complex, challenging and not without its pain.
I’m so sorry for the pain of your family estrangement - it’s such a heavy burden to carry isn't it, especially when it’s not by choice. But as you express so beautifully here, there’s immense power in sharing our stories - not just for ourselves, but for others too. Thank you for sharing yours and for shining love and light onto my words and heart. It means more than I can ever say.
Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your strength & your story. Your path is not easy. Having a compassionate & resilient heart is your gift to this world.
The anxiety goblins are running wild in my house today! With the full moon in full swing, it’s no wonder I’m feeling weepy and all sorts of emotional. I’ve been carrying this story for so long, and though I’ve never shared it before, finally releasing it feels like a weight has been lifted from my soul. Thank you so much for the gift of your generous and steady heart, Maryellen.
What a beautiful haiku! It’s such a love-filled reminder of how even through struggles, like the butterfly, we can find growth and transformation. Thanks for sharing Marisol – it means the world to me! 🦋
Deeply resonant, Deborah, and heartbreaking. The song that came to my mind while reading your story is 'Calling my Children Home' by Emilou Harris https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dz-SWm3Gvvs. It makes me cry every time. But I don't want to overlay my experiences onto yours. Just want to let you know that as a mother and grandmother, sister and daughter, I know this pain deeply. Especially the shattered heart when a child leaves home...
"Echoes of pain pass through generations," you write so beautifully as you stand strong, your heart broken like waves crashing onto the shore again and again, to be refilled with the never ending love of a mother "the love amidst the pain of absence" as you say.
I am full of admiration how you have come to understand this painful ancestral pattern as a gift. While I too understand that this is the only thing we can do, to accept the box full of darkness as the gift it intended to be. A heartfelt thank you for sharing your story 💗🙏
Oh Veronika, your response touches my heart so deeply. Thank you for sharing your own experiences and reflections with such tenderness and empathy. As I type this, I find myself weeping whilst listening to the song you left a link for, ‘Calling My Children Home.’ It’s so poignant and the chorus keeps looping ...
"I’m lonesome for my precious children
They live so far away
Oh may they hear my calling, calling
And come back home some day …"
Your understanding of the pain of a shattered heart, especially when a child leaves home, resonates so profoundly. There’s a deep comfort in knowing that this shared experience of love and loss connects us as mothers, grandmothers, sisters and daughters.
Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Uses of Sorrow,” struck me so powerfully the first time I read it. For it holds a profound truth I’m still learning to embrace amidst the waves of my grief. Since it’s so short, I’ll share it here:
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
Thank you so much for your kindness, light and for seeing the ancestral depth in my story. 💗🙏
Hi Deborah, Still standing, still loving, still be-ing with your beautiful heart. I found myself pausing and pinching the bridge of my nose as I read — felt into the words, allowing the tears as I breathe in the new morning — another day for us to lean into ourselves with the grace and compassion we afford others. To feel into listening, and I feel the heaviness of what has burdened you — the intergenerational patterns and the missing pieces casting shadows of our kin. It too, is part of my inner awareness and ongoing work.
As you say, keep loving fiercely Deborah. Thank you for sharing, thank you for your courage. Sending love your way. ❤️ 🙏 😊
Thank you so much Simone for the gift of your beautiful words - they touch my heart. The way you talk about leaning into grace and compassion, even while carrying the weight of intergenerational patterns and missing pieces, resonates deeply with me. It means so much to me to know my words connected with you and that you’re walking this path with such awareness, too.
As you’ve written so beautifully and wisely, each day gives us the chance to listen, to feel, and to love fiercely. I’m so grateful for your kindness and understanding - it’s such a gift to me. Sending you much love and light across the oceans between us. ❤️ 🙏 😊
Hi Deborah, heart to heart - soul to soul 🙏❤️. So grateful to be on this path and what a gift the connections made in this community … how we bring another thread to our shared being, my tears do spill directly from that heart space. Yes, each day is an opportunity that is sometimes more challenging than others …. I am still learning surrender and acceptance, actually have been working in the next post as more snippets drop in, just wow. Thank you, for your writing, presence and being. My love is returning to you on the current just released by the moon 🌕🙏🌊💙
What a beautiful image you paint in words! Thank you, Simone. Indeed, heart to heart, soul to soul ... on a luminous moonlit current. Each day is a blessing and a journey, and your words are a wonderful reminder of surrender and acceptance. 🙏❤️
After reading your words, I stood still and sank into them, appreciating and feeling grateful for the chance to experience, even through this digital medium, small fragments of someone's life—the grief, the loss, the pain and trauma, the unshared love. It got me thinking about how we share these narratives.
There is more to what happens to us; there are also the things that didn’t happen—the missing love, the missing sense of belonging, the void and empty spaces we’ve had to fill in times of estrangement.
I congratulate you for writing yourself into the world, for being so warm in your words, so kind. I am truly happy that you have found compassion for yourself. You are, without a doubt, an inspiring Crone, and I look forward to reading your insights and thoughts.
Your words transport us to a place from which we return changed. So please, keep writing, keep reshaping the story, the narrative, and your reality into what you truly deserve—to feel loved.
Katerina, your words have touched me so deeply - they feel like a gift. It means so much to know that my writing resonates with you in such a profound way. The way you describe the shared narratives of what happens to us, as well as what doesn’t, captures something so powerful and true.
Your encouragement and kindness move me deeply, and your feedback gives me even more reason to keep writing, reshaping, and sharing. Thank you for truly seeing me and for your beautiful words - they inspire me to keep going!
When I started writing this on Sunday morning, my eldest daughter’s birthday, I didn’t think I’d be brave enough to post it. But I did today, and I’m so proud of myself - and all the tears falling in this moment remind me just how much this healing journey means to me. With heartfelt gratitude.
I can only be happy that you’ve found the courage to write, and I’m grateful that my words reached you, felt them as a gift <3. This reminds me of Gratitude by Oliver Sacks, who was so shy about his writing yet became one of my favorite authors of all time.
He was a doctor, and perhaps, even if we don’t write as a profession, writing finds us when we need it most—when life fails to give us other resources. In those moments, we turn to each other in whatever ways we can.
So keep writing. You never know how you might become someone’s favorite writer or brighten someone’s day, even just a little. I keep reminding myself of this, too.
"writing finds us when we need it most - when life doesn’t offer us other resources". Yessss! That’s exactly what happened to me - I got a pen instead of a parent or maybe my pen has become my parents, siblings, daughter, grandchildren because I love it so! I don't know where I'm going with all these strange thoughts but something stirs deep within as I write about these things.
All I know for certain is that writing is my ‘talking stick,’ the way I connect most deeply with myself and others and the world. Thank you for encouraging me Katerina to keep writing and sharing my stories. Your love and light have brightened my day so much , and I can’t get enough of ‘the full (Blood) moon and the win!’
Beautifully said. The pen becomes a guiding force that creates room, shapes realities, and opens doors—both inner and outer—into the world. It stirs because it's true. We keep writing, we persist, and we move forward. We use what we have and do what we can. And at least, by taking the time to write to each other and share a little of this and that, we’ve brightened the world. <3<3
Your open hearted vulnerability give me permission to look into the ancestral wounds of my own family, Deborah. Through the sharing of our stories we touch others and are touched in return. I went through a two-year span in which my eldest son was estranged from me and our whole family...the break was fueled by drug and alcohol addiction. It was heartbreaking, but like you I found the courage to carry that burden, allowing him the freedom choose his path while sending him love from my heart to his every single day. A traumatic event, which almost landed him in prison, completely changed the direction he was headed. Although it was painful to see him in so much pain, I realize healing had to be his decision. Ram Das said, "we are each here to walk each other home," but in the same respect, we are individually responsible for taking steps in that direction. Be that as it may, as mothers we never stop loving our children, no matter what...
Dear Jenna, thank you so much for sharing such a personal part of your own journey - it moved me deeply. As mothers, it’s so incredibly hard to watch our children struggle in life, knowing we can’t fix everything for them. Your strength in holding space for your beloved son, while letting him find his own way, is such a beautiful example of unconditional love.
I can only imagine how painful those two years were, but the love and trust you sent his way every day are so inspiring. It’s a powerful reminder that while we walk alongside our children, healing is a journey they must choose for themselves. I don't know how many times I've read that moving passage 'On Children' by Kahlil Gibran, taken from 'The Prophet' over the years.
Your story has left me reflecting on my own experiences, and I feel so grateful for this connection. I actually started writing this piece on my eldest daughter’s birthday, which feels so meaningful to me. In some ways, this message is a gift to her - and to myself - reminding me of the strength and vulnerability that motherhood requires. Love and light, Deborah.
I deeply appreciate this post. Estrangement has been very interwoven into my own family's history over generations. Healing has so many facets, and is often left only partly done in my experience. But partly done is something and is a gift. I love the quotes that you included, as I have not encountered them before and feel so very fitting for the moment I am in. This has given me much to reflect on in the coming days. We find bits of ourselves in each others' stories. They are so important to write, even if we don't share them publicly. The writing changes us and helps us to see.
Susan, thank you so much for your kind reflections. It’s deeply moving to hear how you’ve embraced healing too, even when incomplete, recognising it as a gift - a testament to your strength. Indeed, writing is transformative, uncovering and helping us make sense of ourselves, whether shared or kept close. I hope this reflection brings you a little more peace. Stories like ours remind us of the resilience and love that endure as we ‘still stand and still love.’
I’m so sorry that estrangement is part of your journey; it’s a particularly difficult wound to carry. I wrote this post to let others who have felt estrangement know they are not alone in their often silent worlds. My hope is to remind them that the roots of these family struggles often lie in multi-generational trauma, making healing such a complex yet meaningful process.
Be gentle with yourself in this sacred time - these are the days and hours that matter most. Sending you much love, light and hope across the oceans between us.
This is all very moving and also humbling. I read it this morning, but didn't have the time to reply. And then my daughter came for lunch and it was so pleasant chatting to her and I thought of you. We don't have the very closest relationship ever, and she is very different in her interests, but she is kind and thoughtful. How terrible to have so much estrangement. I hope that writing about it brings you some peace. You do so well.
Thank you so much Ann, for your compassionate reply - it means a lot. I’m so pleased you enjoyed time with your daughter earlier; those simple moments of connection are truly precious. It's lovely that you thought of me during your day.
Family estrangements are tough, especially around special occasions, but yes, writing does help me process and find a little more peace. Your support shines through in your words, and it’s moments like these that remind me of how important it is to keep reaching out and sharing.
Thank you so much Sam, for letting me know that my heart spoke to you. It’s more than any poet could wish for. I know you already understand this, but I felt compelled to say it nonetheless - for there’s a unique joy when one poet’s heart speaks to another. It’s a deep connection that goes beyond words, and your understanding feels like such a gift.
I woke this morning to your Crone courage, your gift of reflecting and scribing. I am reminded of the sacrifices that the ancient Greeks gave to their gods. Your soul offering, given to yourself, to Mystery - and then shared - are words for us to 'take in' and savour. Your vulnerability has brought wisdom into a powerful circle of sharing and care. Your words are indeed Gifts given. Deep gratitude.
Catherine, it's wonderful to see you here my dear friend! Your words feel like such a warm embrace - thank you for reflecting so beautifully on my writing. To have it described as a soul offering is humbling beyond measure. I love the connection you drew to the ancient Greek sacrifices - it brings such depth and meaning, and it truly resonates.
I’m so grateful that my words have contributed to this powerful circle of sharing and care. It’s a deep reminder to me of the beauty in vulnerability and connection. Your kindness and thoughtfulness mean the world to me - thank you so much for seeing the heart in my words and for sharing yours with me. All the love in my heart! 💗🙏
Its 10.10pm here in Melbourne under a cloudy sky and I've just stood outside watching the full moon play hide and seek. Or is it the other way around - the clouds are playing. Which ever way ... I thought of the soul friends who gather here.
Thank goodness; these crazy days on other shores call us to 'be' together.
How beautifully you’ve captured the moment, the moon and clouds dancing together as one. It’s heart-warming to know that even under a cloudy sky, thoughts of soul friends bring light to the night.
In these turbulent times, the act of simply 'being' together feels like such a grounding force, doesn't it? A shared comfort amidst the chaos. Thank you so much for this lovely reflection. Sweet dreams dear one.
Thank you Deborah. Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your vulnerability. Thank you for your humanity. In your words, and in the spaces between them, we all see ourselves too. Looking back lets us know just how far we’ve come. Time certainly does feel like a thief. Those small moments where we found time stand still- still wrap their arms around us. We write on. For forgiveness. For healing. For hope. We write on as an act of resilience which opens up the doors where transformation waits. Just know your words will always be read. Just know we truly are never alone. Thanks so much for Being- Here. It’s definitely a journey. A soul journey. 🙏❤️
Thank you so much, Jamie. Your soul whispering and kindness are truly a gift. It’s amazing how beautifully you express what so many of us feel yet struggle to put into words. The way you capture the universality of this journey we’re all on - and reflect on resilience and transformation - truly resonates. Writing has this incredible power to hold us together, doesn’t it? Let’s keep writing, keep hoping, and keep opening those doors to hearts and minds, bodies and souls, to where new possibilities await. I’m so grateful to be on this journey with you. Namaste ❤️🙏
Wow Deborah, this is heart wrenching, beautifully written and full of wisdom. I too left home at 18, (not my choice) and although I didn't write about it, am essentially estranged from my mother at this point. Also not my choice, and as I read about you reaching out to your daughter I think, what I wouldn't give to have a mother caring so much.
Thank you for mentioning me in your post. I read through the other comments here, and am sitting here in wonder and appreciation of the effect telling our stories has on others.
Kristi, thank you so much for inspiring me last week to finally write about a topic I hadn’t found the courage to explore in depth before. Your kind and encouraging words mean so much to me. Sharing even a small yet deep part of our stories can be complex, challenging and not without its pain.
I’m so sorry for the pain of your family estrangement - it’s such a heavy burden to carry isn't it, especially when it’s not by choice. But as you express so beautifully here, there’s immense power in sharing our stories - not just for ourselves, but for others too. Thank you for sharing yours and for shining love and light onto my words and heart. It means more than I can ever say.
I'm so happy to have connected with you here Deborah<3
Me, you, too! <3
Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your strength & your story. Your path is not easy. Having a compassionate & resilient heart is your gift to this world.
The anxiety goblins are running wild in my house today! With the full moon in full swing, it’s no wonder I’m feeling weepy and all sorts of emotional. I’ve been carrying this story for so long, and though I’ve never shared it before, finally releasing it feels like a weight has been lifted from my soul. Thank you so much for the gift of your generous and steady heart, Maryellen.
Be gentle with you & so glad a weight has been lifted. 💞
Thank you. It feels like an act of liberation, as though the 'depth' I've been carrying has lightened a little. 💞
Strain, pain, grief, growth, love.
Butterflies struggle, then soar.
May from all we learn.
What a beautiful haiku! It’s such a love-filled reminder of how even through struggles, like the butterfly, we can find growth and transformation. Thanks for sharing Marisol – it means the world to me! 🦋
Deeply resonant, Deborah, and heartbreaking. The song that came to my mind while reading your story is 'Calling my Children Home' by Emilou Harris https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dz-SWm3Gvvs. It makes me cry every time. But I don't want to overlay my experiences onto yours. Just want to let you know that as a mother and grandmother, sister and daughter, I know this pain deeply. Especially the shattered heart when a child leaves home...
"Echoes of pain pass through generations," you write so beautifully as you stand strong, your heart broken like waves crashing onto the shore again and again, to be refilled with the never ending love of a mother "the love amidst the pain of absence" as you say.
I am full of admiration how you have come to understand this painful ancestral pattern as a gift. While I too understand that this is the only thing we can do, to accept the box full of darkness as the gift it intended to be. A heartfelt thank you for sharing your story 💗🙏
Oh Veronika, your response touches my heart so deeply. Thank you for sharing your own experiences and reflections with such tenderness and empathy. As I type this, I find myself weeping whilst listening to the song you left a link for, ‘Calling My Children Home.’ It’s so poignant and the chorus keeps looping ...
"I’m lonesome for my precious children
They live so far away
Oh may they hear my calling, calling
And come back home some day …"
Your understanding of the pain of a shattered heart, especially when a child leaves home, resonates so profoundly. There’s a deep comfort in knowing that this shared experience of love and loss connects us as mothers, grandmothers, sisters and daughters.
Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Uses of Sorrow,” struck me so powerfully the first time I read it. For it holds a profound truth I’m still learning to embrace amidst the waves of my grief. Since it’s so short, I’ll share it here:
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
Thank you so much for your kindness, light and for seeing the ancestral depth in my story. 💗🙏
Hi Deborah, Still standing, still loving, still be-ing with your beautiful heart. I found myself pausing and pinching the bridge of my nose as I read — felt into the words, allowing the tears as I breathe in the new morning — another day for us to lean into ourselves with the grace and compassion we afford others. To feel into listening, and I feel the heaviness of what has burdened you — the intergenerational patterns and the missing pieces casting shadows of our kin. It too, is part of my inner awareness and ongoing work.
As you say, keep loving fiercely Deborah. Thank you for sharing, thank you for your courage. Sending love your way. ❤️ 🙏 😊
Thank you so much Simone for the gift of your beautiful words - they touch my heart. The way you talk about leaning into grace and compassion, even while carrying the weight of intergenerational patterns and missing pieces, resonates deeply with me. It means so much to me to know my words connected with you and that you’re walking this path with such awareness, too.
As you’ve written so beautifully and wisely, each day gives us the chance to listen, to feel, and to love fiercely. I’m so grateful for your kindness and understanding - it’s such a gift to me. Sending you much love and light across the oceans between us. ❤️ 🙏 😊
Hi Deborah, heart to heart - soul to soul 🙏❤️. So grateful to be on this path and what a gift the connections made in this community … how we bring another thread to our shared being, my tears do spill directly from that heart space. Yes, each day is an opportunity that is sometimes more challenging than others …. I am still learning surrender and acceptance, actually have been working in the next post as more snippets drop in, just wow. Thank you, for your writing, presence and being. My love is returning to you on the current just released by the moon 🌕🙏🌊💙
What a beautiful image you paint in words! Thank you, Simone. Indeed, heart to heart, soul to soul ... on a luminous moonlit current. Each day is a blessing and a journey, and your words are a wonderful reminder of surrender and acceptance. 🙏❤️
❤️ 🙏 🤗
After reading your words, I stood still and sank into them, appreciating and feeling grateful for the chance to experience, even through this digital medium, small fragments of someone's life—the grief, the loss, the pain and trauma, the unshared love. It got me thinking about how we share these narratives.
There is more to what happens to us; there are also the things that didn’t happen—the missing love, the missing sense of belonging, the void and empty spaces we’ve had to fill in times of estrangement.
I congratulate you for writing yourself into the world, for being so warm in your words, so kind. I am truly happy that you have found compassion for yourself. You are, without a doubt, an inspiring Crone, and I look forward to reading your insights and thoughts.
Your words transport us to a place from which we return changed. So please, keep writing, keep reshaping the story, the narrative, and your reality into what you truly deserve—to feel loved.
Katerina, your words have touched me so deeply - they feel like a gift. It means so much to know that my writing resonates with you in such a profound way. The way you describe the shared narratives of what happens to us, as well as what doesn’t, captures something so powerful and true.
Your encouragement and kindness move me deeply, and your feedback gives me even more reason to keep writing, reshaping, and sharing. Thank you for truly seeing me and for your beautiful words - they inspire me to keep going!
When I started writing this on Sunday morning, my eldest daughter’s birthday, I didn’t think I’d be brave enough to post it. But I did today, and I’m so proud of myself - and all the tears falling in this moment remind me just how much this healing journey means to me. With heartfelt gratitude.
I can only be happy that you’ve found the courage to write, and I’m grateful that my words reached you, felt them as a gift <3. This reminds me of Gratitude by Oliver Sacks, who was so shy about his writing yet became one of my favorite authors of all time.
He was a doctor, and perhaps, even if we don’t write as a profession, writing finds us when we need it most—when life fails to give us other resources. In those moments, we turn to each other in whatever ways we can.
So keep writing. You never know how you might become someone’s favorite writer or brighten someone’s day, even just a little. I keep reminding myself of this, too.
Enjoy the full moon and the win!
"writing finds us when we need it most - when life doesn’t offer us other resources". Yessss! That’s exactly what happened to me - I got a pen instead of a parent or maybe my pen has become my parents, siblings, daughter, grandchildren because I love it so! I don't know where I'm going with all these strange thoughts but something stirs deep within as I write about these things.
All I know for certain is that writing is my ‘talking stick,’ the way I connect most deeply with myself and others and the world. Thank you for encouraging me Katerina to keep writing and sharing my stories. Your love and light have brightened my day so much , and I can’t get enough of ‘the full (Blood) moon and the win!’
Beautifully said. The pen becomes a guiding force that creates room, shapes realities, and opens doors—both inner and outer—into the world. It stirs because it's true. We keep writing, we persist, and we move forward. We use what we have and do what we can. And at least, by taking the time to write to each other and share a little of this and that, we’ve brightened the world. <3<3
Your words shimmer with truth, a testament to the pen’s quiet magic! Thank you, Katerina. <3<3
Your open hearted vulnerability give me permission to look into the ancestral wounds of my own family, Deborah. Through the sharing of our stories we touch others and are touched in return. I went through a two-year span in which my eldest son was estranged from me and our whole family...the break was fueled by drug and alcohol addiction. It was heartbreaking, but like you I found the courage to carry that burden, allowing him the freedom choose his path while sending him love from my heart to his every single day. A traumatic event, which almost landed him in prison, completely changed the direction he was headed. Although it was painful to see him in so much pain, I realize healing had to be his decision. Ram Das said, "we are each here to walk each other home," but in the same respect, we are individually responsible for taking steps in that direction. Be that as it may, as mothers we never stop loving our children, no matter what...
Dear Jenna, thank you so much for sharing such a personal part of your own journey - it moved me deeply. As mothers, it’s so incredibly hard to watch our children struggle in life, knowing we can’t fix everything for them. Your strength in holding space for your beloved son, while letting him find his own way, is such a beautiful example of unconditional love.
I can only imagine how painful those two years were, but the love and trust you sent his way every day are so inspiring. It’s a powerful reminder that while we walk alongside our children, healing is a journey they must choose for themselves. I don't know how many times I've read that moving passage 'On Children' by Kahlil Gibran, taken from 'The Prophet' over the years.
Your story has left me reflecting on my own experiences, and I feel so grateful for this connection. I actually started writing this piece on my eldest daughter’s birthday, which feels so meaningful to me. In some ways, this message is a gift to her - and to myself - reminding me of the strength and vulnerability that motherhood requires. Love and light, Deborah.
I deeply appreciate this post. Estrangement has been very interwoven into my own family's history over generations. Healing has so many facets, and is often left only partly done in my experience. But partly done is something and is a gift. I love the quotes that you included, as I have not encountered them before and feel so very fitting for the moment I am in. This has given me much to reflect on in the coming days. We find bits of ourselves in each others' stories. They are so important to write, even if we don't share them publicly. The writing changes us and helps us to see.
Susan, thank you so much for your kind reflections. It’s deeply moving to hear how you’ve embraced healing too, even when incomplete, recognising it as a gift - a testament to your strength. Indeed, writing is transformative, uncovering and helping us make sense of ourselves, whether shared or kept close. I hope this reflection brings you a little more peace. Stories like ours remind us of the resilience and love that endure as we ‘still stand and still love.’
I’m so sorry that estrangement is part of your journey; it’s a particularly difficult wound to carry. I wrote this post to let others who have felt estrangement know they are not alone in their often silent worlds. My hope is to remind them that the roots of these family struggles often lie in multi-generational trauma, making healing such a complex yet meaningful process.
Be gentle with yourself in this sacred time - these are the days and hours that matter most. Sending you much love, light and hope across the oceans between us.
This is all very moving and also humbling. I read it this morning, but didn't have the time to reply. And then my daughter came for lunch and it was so pleasant chatting to her and I thought of you. We don't have the very closest relationship ever, and she is very different in her interests, but she is kind and thoughtful. How terrible to have so much estrangement. I hope that writing about it brings you some peace. You do so well.
Thank you so much Ann, for your compassionate reply - it means a lot. I’m so pleased you enjoyed time with your daughter earlier; those simple moments of connection are truly precious. It's lovely that you thought of me during your day.
Family estrangements are tough, especially around special occasions, but yes, writing does help me process and find a little more peace. Your support shines through in your words, and it’s moments like these that remind me of how important it is to keep reaching out and sharing.
a remarkable story, Deborah. i loved this line, "thirteen poems, fragile attempts to give my voice its first expression."
Thank you so much Sam, for letting me know that my heart spoke to you. It’s more than any poet could wish for. I know you already understand this, but I felt compelled to say it nonetheless - for there’s a unique joy when one poet’s heart speaks to another. It’s a deep connection that goes beyond words, and your understanding feels like such a gift.
I woke this morning to your Crone courage, your gift of reflecting and scribing. I am reminded of the sacrifices that the ancient Greeks gave to their gods. Your soul offering, given to yourself, to Mystery - and then shared - are words for us to 'take in' and savour. Your vulnerability has brought wisdom into a powerful circle of sharing and care. Your words are indeed Gifts given. Deep gratitude.
Catherine, it's wonderful to see you here my dear friend! Your words feel like such a warm embrace - thank you for reflecting so beautifully on my writing. To have it described as a soul offering is humbling beyond measure. I love the connection you drew to the ancient Greek sacrifices - it brings such depth and meaning, and it truly resonates.
I’m so grateful that my words have contributed to this powerful circle of sharing and care. It’s a deep reminder to me of the beauty in vulnerability and connection. Your kindness and thoughtfulness mean the world to me - thank you so much for seeing the heart in my words and for sharing yours with me. All the love in my heart! 💗🙏
Its 10.10pm here in Melbourne under a cloudy sky and I've just stood outside watching the full moon play hide and seek. Or is it the other way around - the clouds are playing. Which ever way ... I thought of the soul friends who gather here.
Thank goodness; these crazy days on other shores call us to 'be' together.
How beautifully you’ve captured the moment, the moon and clouds dancing together as one. It’s heart-warming to know that even under a cloudy sky, thoughts of soul friends bring light to the night.
In these turbulent times, the act of simply 'being' together feels like such a grounding force, doesn't it? A shared comfort amidst the chaos. Thank you so much for this lovely reflection. Sweet dreams dear one.