I knew that I wanted to introduce my self: to acknowledge that my pertinent "credentials" were not my degrees/training. But, rather, that I had been raised by a woman from a very damaged cohort of bitter, frustrated women who'd (during WW II) had a taste of life beyond "children, church and kitchen" before being brain-washed back into that old box again.

Just 10 days short of two years from conception to print. All three of us are totally thrilled with how the book looks and feels. And, we've all had such a wonderful, mostly stress free time producing it.

My garden-in-pots is at the height of its lush, overflowing summer extravagance: roses and dahlias blooming in rainbow colors; lavenders, sages, lantana, lily of the Nile, platycodon, basil, verbena, freeway daises and petunias in all shades of purple;

Part 5: The Possibility of Transforming the Inner Critic

We weather the storms of grief and rage over giving up the hope that we can ever get – from outside of our selves – the loving for which we’ve hopelessly yearned all our lives.

Part 4: A Path to Healing the Mean Mother Woundedness

The journey of re-mothering our abandoned, neglected, wounded and shamed inner little ones can begin with us carving out some small regular bits of time (as little as five minutes twice a week can be a good start) and some safe, private space for inviting them to come and share their feelings with us.

Part 3: Beginning the Journey of Healing the Woundedness

It’s sad but true that, if we didn’t get the loving mothering, valuing and acceptance we all need and deserve as children, no amount of it coming from outside can reach through the time warp to our wounded inner little ones.

Part 2: How the Wounding Happens

We come into this life totally dependent, with (I and others believe) an organismic trust that we will be welcomed and loved (with what these days is called healthy attachment).

Part 1: The Toxic Legacy of Mean Mothering

Those of us who were raised by cold, critical, emotionally or physically abusive, unavailable and/or neglectful mothers, almost inevitably find our selves tyrannized by vitriolic inner critics.

Part 3: The Consequences of These Influences

The pressures and prohibitions from the larger culture and from our family of origin get internalized, becoming a less than conscious template for acceptable behavior; an internalization of myriad external voices becomes a chorus drowning out our own authentic inner realities.

Part 1: The Impact of Outside Voices

We are all, to some greater or lesser degree, affected by living in a crazy-making, too busy, out-of-balance world where the cultural trance of more, bigger, faster, do-it yesterday sets the bar for what makes us feel worthy.

Part 2: The Impact of Our Family of Origin

In addition to external societal and cultural pressures, many of us were raised in dysfunctional families by damaged caregivers. These caregivers had little or no patience, room or permission for us to be allowed to cry

During the months since last I wrote here (at the end of February), I’ve been reveling in the annual miracle of spring blossoming into the fullness of summer in my garden, the meadow and around Ojai.

Some Thoughts on Mother’s Day: Like myriad other women who were raised by cold, uncaring, mean, neglectful or abusive mothers, every upcoming Mother’s Day was a painful trial for me.

While so much of the rest of the country has been being battered by blizzarding snow, gale force winds and below freezing temperatures, Ojai – with days of temperatures in the high seventies and low eighties – has moved exuberantly into spring.

Last December, after two and a half years filled with the tasks of readying and then publishing the manuscripts of both my own book and the companion journal book that Barbara (my amazing collaborator) and I produced together, I was definitely ready for a long season of deep resting.

Far too frequently we see ourselves as doers. This means that in order to feel worthy in our own or [Spirit’s] eyes, we feel we must endlessly work and achieve.

Every year since Solstice 1984/New Year’s 1985, the Grandmothers have blessed me with words and an image for a holiday greeting card. I would then send these out to friends, family, clients and those former clients who still keep in touch.

This week my dear friend Catherine Raio emailed a few pages of wonderful drawings (done using her non-dominant hand) from her Tenderly Embracing All the Ways that I Feel and I Am journal.

As I went further with the exploration, I discovered that it was impossible to figure out to what extent my choices were made from my limitations as opposed to being made from my wholeness.

After a very temperate summer, we’re just emerging from a weeklong siege of very hot and, oddly for Ojai, humid days. This level of heat leaves many of us feeling cranky and beleaguered as it fries the roses to a crisp within an hour of the buds opening.