CoAbode

By Sage Lynn Knight

…The path of powerful change is not masculine or feminine, action or stillness, but the beautiful life force created by the slow dance of the two, with an awareness of our center, our hara, our tan tien, our belly, as the fulcrum upon which the compass needle is balanced. How do we do that? Slowly. By bringing the masculine life spark into the feminine stillness, the feminine intuitive power into the masculine action.

When we sit and breathe, and surrender the mind to the breath, with nothing to do, we attain clarity. When we breathe into the heart, we connect to what we love. When we move into the world from that place, our meditative time is not simply something on our schedule, but the way we inform our day. When we move slowly enough to notice what is really happening in ourselves, in our bodies and in all around us, we experience the magic of a slow dance, and who does not love a good slow dance? We deeply notice our partner. There is contact, connection, and presence with one another. The subtle movements are noticed and hold power, and we feel the aliveness of new possibilities.

What would happen if today, you release all pressure of making the right choice, of doing the right thing, of producing the perfect result, and at the same time, you take one small step in the direction of what matters most to you? As you take that step, you listen to your body. You feel into your belly and your heart. You notice your breathing. When you go slowly enough, you can hear your body telling you where to go. It takes courage to listen! It takes courage to dance. It takes surrender. And it takes practice. The more you practice, the more you will trust yourself, and the more you will enjoy. Fortunately, your partner is divine.

Sage Lynn Knight is a licensed spiritual counselor, Director of the Agape Women’s Ministry, and fine jewelry designer who is deeply committed to Peace on the Planet through the empowerment of our direct intuitive connection to Source. For a free evaluation of your own Belly Power, take the Belly Power Quiz at www.GenerationsOfWomen.com. While there, be sure to peruse the gorgeous selection of Belly Power Pendants, all with beautiful bellies!

Posted by CoAbode at 10:54 AM | Permalink

By Sage Lynn Knight

We live in a time of great dynamic change. How do we live in this time with power and wellbeing, creating change consciously versus being at the effect of it? We have this amazingly sensitive instrument called a woman’s body. Let’s explore its beauty and power in the area of change.

Once upon a time, all of the earth’s religions were based on feminine principles. The earliest religious artifacts are images of women’s bodies. Why? Because we performed the holiest and most powerfully practical function in town – birth. And we appeared to do it without any assistance from men. As a race, we were not always hip to the link between sex and birth. After all, sex did not always lead to a baby. What was obvious was the cessation of menstrual flow during pregnancy and the fact that all babies came from the women. Birth was necessary for the tribe’s continuance, and women were revered.

At the same time, we saw the connection between women and the earth. A woman’s body provided everything necessary for the baby and the earth provided everything necessary for us all. This may be why we tend to treat the earth and women with equal levels of honoring. A father carries the pattern in that almost invisible seed he plants; a mother is the very material from which our bodies are formed.

How are you like the earth?
Are you juicy like ripe fruit bursting with life?
Are you solid, like a mountain, strong in your convictions?
Are you deeply rooted in the rich soil of your mother’s teachings, like an oak tree?
How are you like the earth…?

Sage Lynn Knight is a licensed spiritual counselor, Director of the Agape Women’s Ministry, and fine jewelry designer who is deeply committed to Peace on the Planet through the empowerment of our direct intuitive connection to Source. For a free evaluation of your own Belly Power, take the Belly Power Quiz at www.GenerationsOfWomen.com. While there, be sure to peruse the gorgeous selection of Belly Power Pendants, all with beautiful bellies!

Posted by CoAbode at 10:50 AM | Permalink

'Nice Girls Can Be Naughty': A series of articles, By Erica Miner
Excerpted From Erica's Novel, Travels With My Lovers:

My thoughts briefly drifted again to Eric, whom, I feared, would judge me harshly if he had been aware of today’s events. Within a matter of minutes, however, Regina and I had entered the hotel lobby; and as we were rushing to the elevator to rejoin my precious but mischievous son, I glanced for a brief instant at the lovely drawing of ancient Florence, which hung on the lobby wall. It was labeled “Fiorenza” – very evocative. But I still preferred the contemporary Italian version of the name: Firenze – the city of Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, the city with which I had fallen in love at first sight, the city whose heady atmosphere and burnished roofs embodied for me the phrase “Italia.”

As we sped down the hall and to our room, I looked down at the delicate cameo locket dangling between my breasts, and I vowed that I would someday give it to Regina for her unwitting bravery that day. As soon as she was old enough, I would say: “to remember our time in ‘Fiorenza.’ ” The wee one must have known I was thinking about her, because she turned to me and gave me the biggest, most grateful tired smile, as if to say, “I don’t want to go anywhere ever again.”

*************************************************************

Personal Narrative By Erica Miner:

"What takes precedence over a mother’s paranoia about what someone else – in this case, my hubby – thinks about her? The reality of her children’s needs, of course. Nothing was more important to me at that moment than having living proof that my son was safe: neither paranoid thoughts of the kids’ dad nor evidence of the beauty of the city of Florence, which had inspired me from the moment I set eyes on it. I was focused on one thing only: seeing that Julian was okay. As I reflect on this experience in my long-ago life, it occurs to me that a certain bonding took place between me and my daughter at that time. Her patience and forbearance, way beyond her tender years, helped me realize – and appreciate – what a trooper she was. She remained so during much of this fascinating but daunting voyage to Italy. She nurtured me when, at age 5, her father left us to cope on our own. And she, now grown up and on her own, is still that generous with her caring to this day. Where would we all be without the compassion and support of our moms?"

Posted by CoAbode at 9:47 AM | Permalink

I want all women on the planet to go to sleep at night knowing that our babies are safe and sound, our families’ needs met, and that we belong in the circle because who we are and what we contribute is of deep value to our community.
I want all women to have the time to play with our lovers and our children, the courage to share our dreams and the practical support to make them real.
I want all women to have enough safety and empathy with our sisters to acknowledge all of the pain that has weighed us down and then have the guts to let it go.
I want each woman to love her own body and her own being exactly as she is, one moment at a time, thereby giving permission for our mothers and daughters to do the same.
I want us all to accept ourselves as imperfect wives, mothers, daughters and sisters, thereby opening our eyes and hearts to the real beauties we are.
I want each woman to feel free to say ‘Yes!’ when she wants to, ‘No!’ when she means it, and ‘I’m sorry’ only when there’s cause; and to never again apologize for being who she is.
I want us once and for all to declare loudly from a mountaintop or silently to the moon, ‘I Am Enough’ – and know it always.

Take care of the precious gift you are. During this season of giving and receiving, remember your self-care practice, because the most powerful, beautiful gift you give is the life you live. And I am sograteful that you are walking this journey. Blessings.

Sage Lynn Knight is a licensed spiritual counselor, Director of the Agape Women’s Ministry, and fine jewelry designer who is deeply committed to Peace on the Planet through the empowerment of women and through our direct intuitive connection to Source. For a free evaluation of your own Belly Power, take the Belly Power Quiz at www.GenerationsOfWomen.com. While there, be sure to peruse her gorgeous selection of fine jewelry, including Lucy-The Original Woman, Leela-The Dancer, and Lora-The Single Breasted Woman, all with beautiful Bellies!

Posted by CoAbode at 10:48 AM | Permalink

Pseudo Mom, By Lori Hughes

The Real Parents would often return on a Friday afternoon, thus freeing me for the weekend. But this time they wouldn't come home until Saturday evening so my Pseudo-kid and I spent the day at the mall, assembling perfect outfits that I would never buy. I don't like to shop. I don't like to wear clothes. But I always enjoyed the artistry with which my Pseudo-child could combine color and texture, shape and style and she loved doing it so I indulged her. I had planned to have dinner with my Pseudo-daugther before the Parents arrived. She had asked for spaghetti "with butter only!" She had agreed to eat salad but apparently she had changed her mind. I encouraged her to eat a bit of tomato. I insisted she eat 3 slices of cucumber, usually her 'favorite'. I enticed her with a promise of olives. She ate some lettuce. But the spaghetti sat until it went cold and she complained that it wasn't any good without having taken a bite. I wanted her fed and happily ensconced in front of the TV before the Parents got home. Why? I suppose it suited my sense of completion. A job well done. Accomplishment. See... I'm the perfect Pseudo-mom and everything that went before, all mistakes, arguments and locking device foul-ups can't be counted against me. I don't know who I thought would be keeping score but I felt the need to chalk up some points of my own.

Sadly, my version of the perfect ending was not to be. We argued about eating spaghetti, a food with such dubious nutritional value it hardly deserves discussion at all. We stared at each other with quiet resolve, certain the other would soon give in. We simmered with anger. We hated each other. And somehow during all of this, the cat crept up on the table and settled down between us, its pink, whiskered nose hovering dangerously near the spaghetti. I grabbed the cat and dumped it on the floor. "He licked it!" She crowed. I had a very good view of both the cat and the noodles and I knew he hadn't so much as opened his mouth. "He did not." "Yes. He did!" She was fiery and defiant, certain she would win this battle as she had so many others and I was just as determined to wrest from her this tiny victory before taking my weekend off from non-motherhood. "Eat the spaghetti!" I growled. "No!!!" I heard a car door slam and realized the Parents had arrived. Torture almost over, but still. One mouthful, please. Just a mouthful. One tiny bite so that I may report that dinner is, at least, in progress. I turned to the door. "Your parents are home. They won't be happy if you don't eat." She smirked at me. "I can't. The cat licked it." I walked toward the door to welcome my friends, my deliverance from irritation. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, determined not to let her get the best of me I saw two things. My Pseudo-daughter languishing before her plate of uneaten food and the cat, standing on the table, hovering over the noodles. The front door opened, the little girl smiled and the cat... licked the spaghetti.

When I last discussed these things with my Pseudo-child she did not remember it as I do. She swore it was rice not spaghetti and had no memory of the cat. She remembered well the dismantling of the door lock but insisted she drew no conclusions about life or anything else that morning. She once assured me that her psyche bears no scars as a result of the time she spent with me but I sometimes wonder if that's true. She developed a rather strong desire to study abnormal psychology somewhere along the way. Hmmm.... I wonder why.

Posted by CoAbode at 9:43 AM | Permalink

'Nice Girls Can Be Naughty': A series of articles, By Erica Miner
Excerpted From Erica's Novel, Travels With My Lovers:

Apparently so. The concierge answered my frenzied call from the cop’s phone.

“Yes, my friend Julian, he is here.” I could almost see the concierge’s broad smile as he spoke. “I gave him the key to the room,” he continued.

Relieved, but a bit embarrassed, I thanked the police chief and smiled at his squadra, who smiled back. Dragging a hungry and whiny Regina - who, being the bright-eyed early riser in the family, had been up since the crack of dawn. I hurried back to the hotel, ready to thoroughly chew out Julian – though I was secretly proud that he had negotiated the confusing streets successfully and without mishap. Thank God Florence was small - a lot smaller than New York.

*************************************************************

Personal Narrative By Erica Miner:

"Okay, how many of us have had this immense ambivalence about how bright our kids are? When they outsmart us, it hurts our egos but makes us proud all the same. It’s a sign that they’re growing up, which in itself causes conflict in our minds and hearts. We want them to stay little forever, yet we also want them to become independent and productive citizens of society. It’s one of the reasons parenthood is the most difficult job on earth. Does it get any harder than this?"

Posted by CoAbode at 9:41 AM | Permalink

Pseudo Mom, By Lori Hughes

There are unpredictable pitfalls to living in someone else's home. A Pseudo-mom-away-from-home must learn to adjust for things are not there to accomodate your habits, your whims, your... addictions. In those days I was a super caffeine freak. I didn't start the day without a snootful of high-test espresso followed by a bottomless cup of extra dark coffee. But my Pseduo-home was not equipped to cater to my needs and the early morning drama of preparing for school made it nearly impossible to grab more than a single cup of weak Mr. Coffee style brew. Perhaps this explains the peculiar case of The Lock That Would Not Open. The front door had its own unusual ticks. The top and the bottom lock worked, the middle one did not. There was a key for the bottom but the top was locked from the inside by a knob or the outside by key. I don't know why on this particular morning I could not seem to unlock it with the same habitual ease that had worked every other morning but, on this day, at this time... I couldn't unlock the door! I had the key to the lock which I could unlock from outside but... I was on the wrong side of the door and could not get outside to unlock the damn thing. My little friend sighed heavily and sat on the stairs as I tried every latch, hook and gadget.

Finally, running late, foggy brained and all too aware that my Pseudo-daughter was rolling her eyes at my inept fumbling, I did what any sensible person would do. I got out a butter knife and dismantled the lock. Yes, I did. I took it off the door. It was a fairly simple assembly, a tiny dead bolt that probably wouldn't have withstood a well placed kick from a reasonbly healthy adult. I would have used a screw driver but had no idea where they kept such tools or even if they had them. But the butter knife worked well enough and we were soon free and out the door. I still don't know what she made of this entire affair. I thought about it at the office, over an endless cup of super-strength coffee. What lesson did she learn about life that day? What did she take away from that experience? I put the lock back together again that night. She never said a thing, my little darling, but the next morning when I put my key in the lower lock, she reached up and twisted the little knob that opened that tiny dead bolt.

Posted by CoAbode at 9:38 AM | Permalink

'Nice Girls Can Be Naughty': A series of articles, By Erica Miner
Excerpted From Erica's Novel, Travels With My Lovers:

Meanwhile, impressed as I was with how seriously Italians seemed to consider the disappearance of a child, the reality was that no further progress had been made in the search for my little guy. In reality, Julian was a resourceful New York City kid and could probably hold his own on the streets of any city. But I was still fraught with anxiety, all the more since I was plagued with fears about what Eric would think if he knew about the situation. I loved my husband dearly, and I didn’t want to worry him needlessly, but I had no particular desire to incur his wrath. Finally, in desperation, I had asked the policeman in charge to phone our hotel, just in case my son had somehow managed to find his way back there: was Julian that clever?

*************************************************************

Personal Narrative By Erica Miner:

"Talk about mixed feelings! Was I just kidding myself that my seven-year-old’s New York street smarts would serve him well enough to help him survive in a foreign city? Was it wishful thinking on my part? Adding to this was my worry about what my husband would say when he found out, countered by my inner sense of injustice, which made me ready to blame it all on his absence. To say I was confused would be an understatement. Crisis does that to you, at least that’s been my experience. Has that been yours as well?"

Posted by CoAbode at 9:37 AM | Permalink

Pseudo Mom, By Lori Hughes

Mornings are new beginnings, each moment is a fresh start. And sometimes it's a hangover from last night's discontent. My Pseudo-daughter woke up cross and insisted she would not go to school. I, of course, insisted that she would. She knew I wasn't kidding but victory was not without its price. Breakfast turned into a negotiation. "I'll make you an egg." "I want cereal!" I gave in. "But we don't have the kind I want" she complained. "Then you can't have it, can you?" She ate an egg... slowly. I was dressed and had her clothes ready by the time she finished but she was chasing the cat. When it finally escaped into the back yard I snagged my little treasure and offered to brush her hair. She spied the pants and sweater laid out on the bed, crossed her arms tightly, a scowl on her face. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I'm not wearing those!" She kicked her foot in the direction of the bed. Apparently, pants were simply out of the question. She was, and still is, a total fashionista and whenever I need to update my wardrobe, she's the one I turn to. I tried to explain that we were having a typically Californian cold snap... a single month of frosty mornings and gloomy afternoons that required warm clothes if one wanted to play outside, which I knew she liked to do. Still she refused. I pressed the point. Until I realized we were having a classic case of the dreaded contest of wills. She had me on the ropes already. I had allowed it to descend into the "Oh yes you will-Oh-no-I-won't" phase of negotiations and checkmate was a mere move or two away... odds in her favor. She had already won. If I had jammed her into a pair of pants against her will my defeat would have been more devastating. "Fine. Which dress do you want to wear? And you will take a sweater to school." Of course I carried it in to the school and hung it on her personal coat hook because she wouldn't touch it.

Her superiority thus established we quickly fell into a daily routine. A comfortable balance between the silent treatment and gleeful misbehaving. I did my share of both. But despite these twists and turns, these gnarly curves around which we built our new Pseudo-relationship, we had not lost our knack for perfect companionship. With the back of her head jammed up against my nose, we curled up together in front of the TV watching reruns of The Patty Duke Show or The Wizard of Oz (she had memorized all the dialogue for both). Her mother often complained that she could not curl up comfortably with her daughter in the "right" position because the kid never sat still and mom couldn't see the TV. (I couldn't convince mom that this was, in fact, the correct pose... you are the chair... be the chair) I didn't care. I'd already seen every episode of The Patty Duke Show and it hadn't changed so what's to see? Half of The Wizard of Oz is in black and white and the munchkins didn't do it for me anymore... the music didn't need to be seen to be appreciated. Besides, she'd be in bed soon and I could watch a hockey game then. Maybe that's the difference for a Pseudo-mom. Quality time is just being there, smelling their freshly shampooed, still slightly wet hair and being the chair... no pressure to interact. Just be. Very Zen. Very tired. Good time to take a nap.

Posted by CoAbode at 9:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)