modern parenting is harmed by the public

I no longer have a Facebook page, so this blog is going to become more bloggy in the future. In spurts, because I just don’t see the point in sharing most of what I would share on Facebook (hence, my removal of self from that virtual world and all social media). I do feel the need to share this particular observation/thought, though.

I currently live in The South. I am from The South and am quite comfortable with certain Southern expectations, as they are typically the expectations of all “civilized” hordes of people: Use your manners and show consideration for others. (In fact, the point of manners is to show consideration for others. They can also be used as a form of artificial hierarchy, but I reject that usage, in general.)

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if you hold on to definitions that harm you

(even when you tell yourself they don’t)

if you believe more in bad than good

(or worse, believe that bad can be good)

if you are forever searching outside yourself

for love

for meaning

for stabliity

for spirit

if you are too dependent upon yourself

for love

for meaning

for stability

for spirit

how will you ever be free?

the oracle

there are times in life when

you realize

your life is not your own;

you are not breathing,

you are breath.

you are not living,

you are life.

in those moments,

those times in between

noticing and being noticed,

you become One


All That Is

All That Was

All That Will Be

(but i repeat myself)

and you are aware that

life happens

in between the moments you claim to live.

there is more to life

than living,

my friend.

there is more to life

than you care to know.


and feel the wonder

of what it means to




I live a life that exists between two worlds. The world we all perceive together and the world many of us don’t seem to perceive at all.

I am guided and loved upon by SO MANY entities that it’s a lot easier to come back to center these days. I see how they’ve always been with me, always watched over me, and I assume it’s the same for all of us. But maybe it’s not.

I don’t consider myself any more “tapped in” than anyone else could choose to be, but I am also aware that we all have our paths to walk. For some of us, maybe all the “unseen” isn’t as necessary for where we’re going and what we’re here to do. I don’t know.

What I *do* know is that I feel restless. I feel ready to leave this place. I want to say I hate it here, but that’s not entirely accurate. It’s more accurate to say that this is the first place I’ve lived and known and literally felt the effects of how pervasive evil is and how intentional evil is and how dense and palpable evil is. Not my first taste of evil, but definitely my first immersion experience in evil.

I just don’t like it here. I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t like feeling all this icky energy consistently. I don’t like constantly having to be on my toes, energetically speaking.

This morning, as I lay in bed pondering my ability to leave this penal colony (that’s how I think of the place I live), I looked to my ancestors. They are always in my mind’s eye. I can see them as clearly as I could see you if you were standing in front of me. And, I was greeted with a wolf snarling and snapping in my mind’s face.

Yay. The ancestors aren’t happy with me leaving.

Instead of looking away, again, I just kept watching. I’d never noticed a wolf amongst the spiritual entourage that accompanies me everywhere in life. I come from the Bear Clan, the oldest clan among the Cherokee. (It was basically disbanded and renamed during relocation and concentrated assimilation times.) I come from the Turtle Clan (still not sure which people this is, except it’s either Cherokee or Comanche). Most of the ancestors that walk with me daily look Indigenous to North America. This is likely why I’ve always felt more Cherokee than African.

Once he stopped snapping at me in anger, he became a person in a wolf’s coat. We looked at one another. I felt the medicine, the message.

“You are safe here.”

This is what my ancestors keep telling me. They called me here. Why? I’m still unsure. But they always want me to know I’m safe.

That’s good, b/c this place doesn’t *feel* safe. Wado! Asante sana! Reminders are always welcome.

“You are safe here.”

I confirm. Everyone nods. Everyone smiles. I am safe. This place is not a safe place, but I am safe. So maybe this place actually *is* a safe place.

Wolf medicine comes to me in waves. Between Wolf and Bear, I am constantly fed in my spirit. We all are truly living in our spirits, but so many of us have forgotten.

The old ways are not lost, they are laid down. Pick them up. Regain your right sight. Regain your wisdom.

You are safe.

momming with the Gospel

One of the reasons I enjoy reading Christian parenting books is because I love being a parent. Since 2005, I have read probably close to 100 books on parenting. I have read the insights of parenting coaches, other parents, grandparents. I have been a parenting coach, myself, and taught some classes in San Francisco when my youngest was a baby. Parenting is my passion.

More than just parenting diligently, I want to be able to have my children say I parented them well. Basically anyone can be a parent; not everyone is a good parent. My latest book on parenting, Gospel Centered Mom: The Freeing Truth About What Your Kids Really Need by Brooke McGlothlin, offered me a chance to read a parenting book that was more rooted in personal struggle than I’m used to. It was an interesting change.

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inspirational read for those who like treasure

I have a thing for self-help books. I can’t help it. I firmly believe in doing my best to overcome any challenges I face in life, including the ones that arise from my personality or thinking habits. One of the “issues” I’m currently trying to heal is my relationship with money. We all have a money story and mine could use some improvement.

One idea I’ve been feeling a close affinity to, lately, is the idea that our lives and bodies are not our own. They don’t belong to us. We will leave them behind at some point and, regardless of what we believe comes next, that is a sobering thought. If I don’t even own my body, the thing that goes with me everywhere and is the only thing that can’t be taken from me, then maybe my understanding of life and the choices we make in it need to shift.

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