In my own life, I have experienced how a seed of possibility must be protected in order to grow. Protected from my own doubts, or fears. Many a time have I had a dream in which I was shown something new. But the real work comes after such a dream. Just to hold, each day, each night, this possibility in the face of outer appearances.

We sit in circle... six women who are homeless and living in shelters, a colleague and myself. After a silent meditation, I offer a writing exercise that begins with the words, Once there was a seed….

Many years ago, when a dear friend of mine became ill, I took care of her one night. I seemed to lie awake all night, until the early hours of the morning when I fell asleep. I had so much doubt, so much worry. But as I was waking up in the morning, I heard these words: Hope. Love. Joy.  

Always, life calls to us, speaks to us, if we can hear. Life, this living organism, has its own wisdom. I have heard in women’s dreams that there is a way we can be part of that wisdom, directly affecting the life around us. And one of the ways that women can help life is through trust in the unseen, the inner, the soul.

There is magic in a story. Some stories can show us that the divine exists - that there are forces that make things happen. I share this story about longing.

At this season of the year, when we celebrate the point of the darkest time and the time of the returning light, I share about women and the earth.

We share, because we are one. These are the words I heard as I awoke one morning. I had recently returned from a gathering of twenty women who came together to share their dreams, visions, and prayers, for the earth.

I learned a lesson from the salvia plant in my garden. I was sitting on a stump with my granddaughter, beside this lovely bush with tiny purple flowers, watching a bee going from flower to flower.

I am deeply familiar with the beautiful side of devotion. What has been unfamiliar to me is the fierce side. One night, I experienced this other side of devotion in a dream.

The story of a woman runs deep like an underground river. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of it.

Other times, it runs so deep that it lies forgotten - its sacredness nearly lost to memory.