Yael Nehama

Cold night. Cold, endless night. Filled with anticipation I venture out. Anticipation that fills my heart with the hope of things to come. Snow crackling 'neath my feet. Bright Moon blessing my way. Cold night. Cold, endless night. The path not clear and yet I am walking. Anticipation that fills my heart with the hope of things to come. Wind placing sharp kisses on my cheek. Wise Owl calls the way. Cold night. Cold, endless night. Growing, faintly I begin to see. Anticipation that fills my heart with the hope of things to come. The sun reborn, growing ever brighter. The Light guides my way. Night cannot endure forever. ~Village Wise Woman

I am in pain, much like most of the United States is in pain. It is of a surety that every parent hugged their dear children tighter yesterday. My heart exploded from the heart ache and tears flowed this morning for the parents who lost children and all the families and friends affected. Life will simply never be the same for them. Never. And there are no answers. None to satisfy at least. And then I see this. An offering of, I imagine, a very well meaning person trying to make a statement. I have to be honest and tell you how much I dislike this saying every time I have seen it. I dislike it with a passion and anger that makes me feel like I want to scream at the person quoting it and shake my fists at the  heavens. There are many levels of absurdity to me in this statement  but I am going to simply rant about what I see. Regardless of whether G-d is 'allowed' in schools or not,  to have Him saying violence occurs because He is not allowed in, strikes me as a ridicu

There are times when the darkness surrounding me seems all too much. When I dare to watch or read the news I become more than convinced that we are going to hell in a hand basket complete with rocket boosters. As far as the media and, it appears, the majority opinion is concerned, it is completely hopeless. Couple that with all the apocalyptic movies, the sensationalism of Mayan 2012 and of course let us not forget the zombie apocalypse, I am not sure why we all aren't  curled up in a fetal position in the corner rocking frantically waiting for the end to finish us. I think of darkness. Dark moonless nights. Late nights in Maine where there is no ambient light and the copious stars in the sky give me a feeling of being swallowed up completely. Even there, when the porch light is out, it is not utterly dark. I think of myself. When the dark cloud of despair covers me like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket threatening to suffocate me between my sobs. Even then, when all seems lost,

You ever have one of those days? No, not one of  those days, one of those perfect I-am-in-my-element-and-know-who-I-am days. For some time I have been a bit sad about the fact that, although I love my job as a preschool teacher, I felt it prevented me from doing all the other cool stuff I am supposed to be doing. You know, all that Village Wise Woman-y stuff. And since I need an income, having not yet invested in my vardo so I can take it on the road, I need a job that generates said income. It reminded me of when I was a young mother and I could not so all those 'things' I wanted to do because I was raising my children, you know things like reading books, going to the bathroom by myself and the like. Always missing out. Not that I would have changed it for the world, but why couldn't I have my cake and eat it too. And why can't I now? Well, the obvious answer is I can. And the fact is, I do. This past Sunday reminded me of this truth. It was that kind of a

I. love. coffee. Mind you, it's not just a mere get myself into wake-up mode and move kinda love. No, it's more of a "I worship at your altar, oh goddess caffeina" kinda love. I enjoying the ritual of preparing the coffee and I eagerly await the first glub-glubs of the brewing process. When I begin to hear the gentle trickle of the coffee entering the urn, my excitement increases knowing soon I shall be partaking of the holy elixir. Eagerly I pour a cup adding just a pinch of sugar and cream so as not to disturb the wonderful bitterness of my first morning mug. Breathing it all in I drink...and I drink...and I drank until the coffee seemed to no longer be my friendly goddess but more of a annoying lover who certainly tasted lovely and dark at first but then began to slowly grow more and more bitter and eventually became an upset in my stomach. Oh, the joys of a sensitive stomach. So, what's a girl to do? I really and truly enjoy coffee. I tried tea, chai a

You could chalk it up to the stars I was born under. Cancerian/Moonchildren are known to love their homes dearly, though some could call it a simlple, albeit minor case of agoraphobia. I myself just relish the warm and snug feeling of my home. One would imagine that as much as I love my home, homemaking would be my easiest and finest joy. Well, it is...now. When I was younger it was not, not by a long shot. In my early days of motherhood I lacked the skills and the balance to raise children and keep a tidy home. Since I could not do both, I focused on raising my children because as the poem goes: "The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow, for children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep. I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep." That was my story then. And it made sense, but there were many times thankfully where I could get my house in order, especially as my children grew older. But truth be told, I nev