Sophia Bonnie Wodin

“Quick, come and see,” came my partner’s hushed voice in the pre-dawn darkness.  And so I did. There, on our back deck shone the third quarter moon, coming through of our neighbor’s red maple tree, dappling the deck.  It just about took my breath away.  We stood, wrapped in jackets, shawls and blankets, whatever we grabbed in the moment, and gazed in wonder.  Beauty lay all around us: in the shadowy glow of moon light through tree branches stretching across the late-summer gardens wrapping us in the magic of a fleeting moment.  Soon, the eastern sky lightened nearly imperceptibly.  And as dawn grew, the moon light faded, slowly, ever so slowly We never know when a moment of beauty might occur.  Frequently it takes us by surprise.  And perhaps that’s part of its power. I am so grateful to have been bathed in moonlight this morning.  The memory became a touchstone that ran through the day, offering grace my day.  And then I think, how easy it would have bee

Mabon Blessings of balance to all! Many years ago I participated in an Equinox (Mabon) ritual during which we celebrated our ability to balance with a chant taught to us by a woman I met only that time, Beth Carlson : "This is the balancing time Dark meets light All that you need and all you desire meets tonight!" As we move into the Dark-of-the-Year, may the blessings of darkness open us to unknown wisdom and guide us until the return of the light!

Last week-end I had the honour to attend an exhibition of Buddhist Relics called the Loving Kindness Tour.  This international tour has been going around the world since 2001.  Check out their website for schedules and more information.  It is extraordinary. Ancient and Eternal          On the occasion of visiting the Loving Kindness Tour        An exhibition of Buddha Relics to Inspire World Peace We are bathed in diffused golden light pouring down on saffron and ochre robed monks, from a golden Buddha statue sitting under a golden umbrella-Bodhi Tree. In this illuminating glow come sounds of chanting in ancient tongue punctuated by bell by singing bowl by chime by gong. They infuse the soul, inviting it to join with heart body mind: They say, “Open!” Cleansing waters soothe the shadow, inviting it, to come near. “You are welcome here. Feel the waters sweet golden waters transforming waters calling y

My full, round-belly self shines this night.  Sailing higher and higher, the Sun and I play, gifting me this time to shine. Big and luminous, I beam goodness and rejoice that you dance around your fires, in your living rooms, together or alone in my honor! For too many years I shone on emptiness with barely a nod to my majesty.  But the wheel has turned, as it does, and, like the tides I remain.  Can you imagine the power of being for all of this time? The ages gone by, you call history.  To me, they are a moment. There are those who declared me a dead hunk of cold rock held in my orbit around your earth by the mystery they call gravity. I am as different than your cameras and instruments can measure as my dark side it different from my bright. And yet, dark and bright, I am One.  For the bright must always give way to the darkness as the darkness will once again turn bright. In Me is the wisdom of cycles: cycles reflected in your seas, the womb of your ki

Last evening I felt honoured.  The fall cycle of a Writer’s Circle I anchor began with a group of courageous writers coming together for the first time. It is always an act of courage to step into a new situation, to place the sacred words of our hearts on paper and then to share them with others taking that same courageous step. In the midst of our gathering, our collective power was mirrored by a most intense electrical storm.  The lights flickered. Then darkness.  I found and lit candles.  Participants distributed them to writers now spread throughout the house.  The lights came on and off at least three times. Was it good humour that allowed each of us to continue with our story lines or was it a deeper desire?  Perhaps the unexpected surges of external power fed our own potential to know and write our truths. We all have internal critics. We make judgments about ourselves and our words, about our work and our worth.  The ability to suspend those judgments a

Life leads us through many strange and wonderful twists and turns.  The seeds that germinates and grows into a sturdy tree may lie dormant for years before finding just the right circumstances to germinate and grow.  This is such a story. Unabashedly, I am a New Yorker.  I may have lived in many places, London (both of them!), Paris, the English Moors, Nairobi, Mexico and the hills of Western Massachusetts to name some of the many, but my roots and the roots of my ancestors, well two generations anyway, are pure New York. When we moved to Boston, my mother believed that she was living in exile and held that belief until she settled in the mountains of central Mexico many decades later. A few months ago my sister and I were going through some of our parents’ things that had been stored at her house when I found a slim volume that I had thought about frequently over the years, Here Is New York written by E. B. White.  You may know him from Charlotte’s Web , Stuart