Dear Community,
Sunday, I led my first in-person Intuitive Writing Workshop since the pandemic at the charming Indigo Yoga Studio to a lovely group of curious and courageous women.
I am not lying when I say it was the highlight of my weekend. The pureness of the present moment and doing what I love gifted me the healing medicine of inspiration, ease, and connection.
One of the things I love most about leading these classes is the sense of belonging and connection it brings and the synergy and intimacy that can be co-created in an hour and a half.
As the women shared their experiences and intentions and listened as they read their stories, you could hear the spoken nods of acknowledgment and sense the silent whispers of "Me too."
By the end of the workshop, women were exchanging hugs, tears of release, smiles of gratitude, and ways to stay in touch and continue writing.
Though I have been leading these workshops for a few years, the magic that happens when we feel safe to be seen, sit in the discomfort of vulnerability, and brave our honest hearts continues to amaze me.
Today, I share a darling poem and potential prompts to use as jump-off lines.
If you enjoy the poem or try the prompts, I would love to hear about your experience and story; leave a comment or reply to this email.
Thank you for being here.
“Courage is the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, a work; a future. To be courageous is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences.” David Whyte
The Whole Self
By Naomi Shihab NYE
When I think of the long history of the self on its journey to becoming the whole self, I get tired. It was the kind of trip you keep making,
Over and over again, the bag you pack and repack so often the shirts start folding themselves the minute you take them off.
I kept detailed notes in a brown notebook. I could tell you when the arm joined, when it fell off again, when the heart found the intended socket and settled down to pumping.
I could make a map of lost organs, the scrambled liver, the misplaced brain. Finally, finally we met up with one another on a street corner, in October, during the noon rush.
I could tell you what I was wearing. How suddenly the face of the harried waitress made sense. I gave my order in a new voice. Spoke the word vegetables like a precious code.
Had one relapse at a cowboy dance in Bandera, Texas, under a sky so fat the full moon was sitting right on top of us.
Give me back my villages, I moaned, the ability to touch and remove the hand without losing anything.
Take me off this mountain where six counties are visible at once. I want to remember what it felt like, loving by inches. You put in the whole self – Ill keep with the toe.
But no, it was like telling the eye not to blink. The self held on to its perimeters, committed forever, as if the reunion could not be reserved.
I jumped inside the ring, all of me. Dance, then, and I danced, till the room blurred like water, like blood, dance, and I was leaning headlong into the universe,
Dance! The whole self was a current, a fragile cargo, a raft someone was paddling through the jungle, and I was there, waving, and I would be there at the other end.
Potential Prompts / Jump-off lines
I gave my order in a new voice
spoke like a precious code
a current, a fragile cargo
When we practice aligning with our true self and nature, we begin to embody and trust our inherent wisdom. We learn to listen to our intuitive knowing and honor our pace and capacity. We awaken and co-create with our inner landscape and outer experiences with more grace, clarity, and understanding.
Knowing yourself more deeply will empower you. Knowing yourself awakens you to your ability, unique gifts, and what matters most.
From a place of sincerity and curiosity, maybe consider the following prompts:
What does it mean to offer your authentic self to the world?
Write about a journey or experience that lead you closer to your whole self.
Grab a pen and paper or your favorite journal. Begin with one or more of the prompts. Use them as a starting point, repeat them throughout your writing, or choose a line from the poem that speaks to you.
Set your timer. Write for 15 minutes, pen never leaving the page. Trust the words that flow.

And the nodding continues -- so glad to have been part of that meeting. And thank you for the David Whyte prompt.