One of the Goddess’s best friends was a cardinal—a bright red bird who loved to play with the Goddess and the Sun.

My vet said, “She's telling you thank you for letting her go.”

Change is part of who we are.

White supremacy culture tells me that I’m only "good" if I’m perfect, treating all falls as hard stops.

The changes that take place in winter are a kind of alchemy, an enchantment performed by ordinary creatures to survive.

The real holy of holies happens in sobriety when relationships with self and others are healthy and whole.

Surrendering to the truth of my addiction has been the most empowering act of my life.

I feel sad to lose a spiritual practice that I can now recognize, honor, and appreciate.

The most life-giving coping strategy—for me—is to attune to a voice calmer and wiser than mine, and allow that seeking to be its own expression of faith.

Sometimes, I know I'm hanging onto a part of my life that I'll eventually need to let go of...but not just yet.

I take care of myself first, because I am deserving of exquisite care. I take care of myself to maintain the capacity to help others. I move and stretch my body every day. I spend time in nature, attuning my senses to the earth's wisdom. I ration my daily exposure to the news....

As we move deeper into the season, There are some things we know. Fall brings a growing darkness That we cannot escape. The nights become cooler And take on winter’s chill. The leaves on the trees and blades of grass Try on new suits of yellow, orange, red and brown....

One of my most treasured New Year’s traditions is coming up with a word for the year: a single word that I want to be the theme for my entire year. When I’m questioning what’s the right thing to do, I will look to my word of the year for guidance.

Sometimes grief sends notice ahead of time; sometimes, it shows up as an unwelcome, uninvited guest.

The work of forgiveness is so challenging—the actual work of it. The naming, grieving, empathizing, releasing. It’s like a death. A death of what we wanted, what we expected, what we’d hoped for, what we deserved and didn’t receive….We don’t get to control other people or outcomes. I am...

It was my inadvertent letting go that made this wild, interdependent beauty possible. And at that very moment, I knew I didn’t need that sort of control anymore.

When I internalize cultural messages about the definitions of success or failure—or anything, really—I undermine my own sense of self-worth.

Outside of the meditation hall, we plan for the future and think of the past. But so often we replay past regrets and worry about future events to the point where we’re no longer present in the present.

And so I bury my cauldron today I fill it full of salt and place it in the warm earth. Cradle it Persephone! Hold and rock and heal this womb. Take my woes and transform them. I was supposed to be this perfect gateway, and hold the balance of life and death. Well I held life, for a brief moment.

This has been published with "they/their" pronouns; please use the most fitting pronoun in your setting. Claimed by death, we remember [Name]'s life Blessings for a life well lived Blessings for their peaceful departure Blessings for their shared friendships Blessings for their humor and wisdom...

Once I quit drinking, my inner voice and I began the harder work: that of creating a life from which I do not need or want to escape.

"We can change. People say we can’t, but we do when the stakes or the pain is high enough. And when we do, life can change."...

God is not a distant force, far away. God is in the beating of our hearts and the backbeat of a funky baseline. God is in a four-on-the-floor drum fill, and in the achy joints and sore muscles the day after.

On my worst days, it is gravity I am most grateful for: the way the earth pulls at me from her core, yearns for me, keeps me pressed tightly against her surface. When my own core is hollowed out, when I have no more mass than a leaf dead on the branch, still this is enough for the earth to find me.

Be it real or metaphor, whatever is in your backpack, or your briefcase, or your purse that you’ve brought into this sanctuary that is weighing you down: leave it behind. Whatever you are carrying that is keeping you distracted, or caught up in shame, or guilt, or hopelessness: leave it behind....

We call forth the life of our faith by igniting our chalice. This spark of new beginnings invites us into a sacred space to reflect where we have been and where we are going. Even knowing that this particular flame will intentionally end with our ritual extinguishing, we fear not its end… For we...

“Now,” the yoga instructor said, “begin to chant GOD GOD GOD as you vigorously circle your arms.” Oh boy, I thought, Here we go. Of course it couldn’t just be arm circles.

Spirit of Compassion, remind us that our task as humans is not perfection, but faithfulness.

Week by week, the candles remind us that fear and hopelessness recede as more warmth enters the world.

This is the season of endings and beginnings.

So much undone. So much to do. So much to heal in us and the world. So much to acquire: a meal a healthy body— a fit one— a lover a job a better job proof we have and are enough just around the corner of now. And up against it the reality of all that falls short and the limits of today. We honor...

Fire consumes, and casts a bright light. May our chalice flame consume our regrets for the past, our fears about the future, and our worries about today. May it light for us a path of joy and peace.

The things to do have been done, well, for the most part. The people we need are in place, almost. We are ready, or as ready as we will be. Bless this most perfectly imperfect beginning. May we find the right people to do the right things as we go....

Spirit, I would really rather not learn this. Didn’t think I needed to. I thought someone else could do it. Thought a leader was coming to do it. Thought the young people could do it. Or the elders could do it. Or the professionals. Or I don’t want to learn it ‘cause it means letting go of...

Someone had broken into our garage. We picked our way through the space, storage tubs strewn about, ready to make a list of what was missing: two wool sweaters and half a tent. Someone was suffering a misfortune here, but it wasn’t us.

This Releasing of Covenant was created to end the final worship service of a settled ministry. Minister: For [number] years you have offered me your free pulpit and the freedom of creativity in worship, gifts for which I’m grateful. I hereby return the ministry of worship to your able hands. Use...

"I went back to church thinking that it would be like an epidural, like it would take the pain away… that church would make the pain go away. Faith and church was not an epidural for me at all; it was like a midwife who just stood next to me saying, 'Push. It’s supposed to hurt a little bit.'"...

For almost thirty years after coming to the United States, I didn't fully understand the cultural cues around me. Initially, this gave me the false sense of liberation. I often interpreted uncomfortable situations to be my fault, as an ignorant immigrant. Trying hard to assimilate, I unconsciously suppressed what came naturally to me.

What if everything always went according to plan? At first, we might accomplish more of what we think we need to accomplish. And it may seem less stressful, at first, being able to anticipate what happens next. But after a certain amount of time (and that amount would vary person to person) the...

One: It may be the hardest thing we will ever do, Many: Caught up in our self-righteousness, honing our pain. One: The one who offended may not deserve forgiveness Many: And we are not obliged to offer it. One: Why, then, should we forgive? Many: Because we have all caused pain....

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious...

When my 85-year-old parents moved into their retirement home five years ago, my Dad found a comfortable role schlepping mats, blocks, and straps into the room where the Sunday yoga class was held. He was the only male, but it didn’t take him long to be an active member of the class instead of...

We offer blessings for life and the end of life. Blessings for the dying. Blessings for the caregiver, holding love and carrying burden. Blessed is the Body. Youth claimed by death. Elder claimed by death. Blessed is all creation moving toward one ending in order to begin again. Let us Bless the...

The new year calls us forward, filled with mystery. As we turn toward that new year, we take a final glimpse of the past year, and reckon with all that it held for us. There are baskets moving through the aisles with pens and something called flash paper. It’s specially treated paper that...

May the next ten days be days of reflection, introspection, and peace.

Note: #FOMO means "Fear of Missing Out" and #YOLO means "You Only Live Once." These are accompanied by hashtags because their acronyms originated out of the Twitter-style writing (limited to 140 characters, with hashtags that connect you with other posts about the issue). Each #FOMO or #YOLO is...

This ritual was designed as part of a worship service/fire communion. Please see that holiday description for more details. Leader: Today’s service is about letting go, metaphoric cleansing and quenching of thirst, setting of intentions, self-anointing, healing, new beginnings and possibilities.

Having let go, Set our intentions, Named our curiosity, Committed our energies, And given ourselves over to lives of balance, purpose and meaning, Let us begin again In love...

Here is where I found my voice and chose to be brave. Here’s a place where I forgave someone, against my better judgment, and I survived that, and unexpectedly, amazingly, I became wiser. Here’s where I was once forgiven, was ready for once in my life to receive forgiveness and to be...

For those we miss. For things long gone. For those who or what we last held in our arms, in our hands and in our hearts — we pray. We pray for memories to stay strong Memories of words and warmth, of actions and stillness. We pray for Love shared and lived, Love to remain with us and with them,...