An Introduction from Robyn
At twenty-three (in 1963) I found myself teetering at the edge of an emotional precipice. The merciless scourging of a vitriolic, hate-filled inner-critic relentlessly ripped gaping holes in the fabric of anything I did or thought. Continue Reading >
We are currently in the process of rebuilding our 2000-2012 archives. Visit back as we continue to add stories.
We are currently in the process of rebuilding our 2000-2012 archives. Visit back as we continue to add stories.
The catastrophic illness/incapacitation/financial situation of a former partner draws me back
After a brief siege of scorching days, the weather has been deliciously moderate for an Ojai summer–hi 80’s instead of low hundreds.
This month the challenges are frequent but only of the small, niggling sort
I sit here drunkenly enveloped in the rich, fragrant musk of night blooming jasmine. At dark, it begins wafting in through the window over my desk.
As summer fruit ripens, I discover a lump in my breast
We are being blessed with delightfully moderate, livable temperatures after our early heat wave in late April. Such bliss! Summer fruit is ripening on the trees.
The cracking open/releasing from the bodywork continues–mirrored by my sorting undigested bits out of my compost pile
Orange blossom petals fall in drifts of fragrant “snow” as the flowering season peaks and completes itself. Tiny little green infant oranges are left behind. Still the scent of orange is everywhere, though growing less strong.
A very hard fall in the middle of orange blossom time terrifies me and opens the door to releasing ancient rage and grief
Day by day, more of the lush creamy white oval buds on the orange trees in the orchard all around me are bursting into starry fragrant flower. The annual Bacchanal is upon us!
In the midst of Spring arriving, I take two long weekend trips to family back East
While I was away spring has come almost to full blossom in my gardens: daffodils, freesias, asparaxis, carpets of wild nasturtium, the roses in full leaf and even (at night, when the sun isn’t burning off the oils) the beginnings of the intoxicating scent of orange blossoms. Crickets back in legions.
Immersed in the annual paperwork, yard work and going-through-all-my-stuff rituals that mark my transition into the New Year
For countless days I’ve been getting covered in earth and scratches while tending to my annual winter garden clean up.
Reveling in days of silence or retreat during more than half of the month
Darkness comes earlier and earlier these days. And, blessedly, so do the cooler temperatures. So many of us here are thrilled to see the signs of summer ending at last. Not so many are similarly happy about the shortening days.
Luxuriating in my newly pain-free body, I continue the practice that is so central to my life and well-being:
I am deliriously luxuriating in a pain-free body this month! The release in my sacroiliac has sustained and I am moving blissfully in this newly liberated body.
Delighting in autumn's arrival even as I suffer a month of intense back troubles:
Darkness comes earlier and earlier these days. And, blessedly, so do the cooler temperatures. So many of us here are thrilled to see the signs of summer ending at last. Not so many are similarly happy about the shortening days.
I get to celebrate a special miracle when my very cherished ring–lost during a long and challenging cross-country flight–is actually found
The overwhelming heat continues. There are a few hours each evening and sometimes (when I awaken early enough) another few in the mornings when the more moderate temperatures allow for “normal life” to unfold.
A morning of great despondency after a siege of much rage/frustration releasing leads me to reflecting on the ritual-like process I/we go through as I/we approach thresholds of change in our lives.
The scent of gardenia arrives to weave with the honeysuckle and night-blooming jasmine–Ojai’s sweet summer intoxication peaking!
The Summer fruit orchard gives forth its incredible bounty while the meltdowns of my formerly trusty computer create an extraordinary and overwhelming sequence of meltdowns in me.
In the magic of mid-June into July, I am being deliciously overwhelmed with lush, succulent dead-ripe apricots that fall off the trees into my waiting hands each morning! The Santa Rosa plums are just beginning to blush reddish purple on the trees in the family orchard.
After a 10-day trip back East, I discover that something has shifted in my capacity to be with beloved people in emotionally intense settings–
I’ve come back from an intensely packed-with-being-with-people 10-day trip to the East Coast with almost none of my usual post-travel exhaustion. I am amazed. Stunned by this unexpected newness in me.
In a time of no pulls or beckonings in any direction, I sink lusciously into the "in-between" still time
As April ends in the Ojai Valley, the scent of orange blossom finally fades. Now the air around my cottage is alive with the sweet magic of honeysuckle flagrantly in bloom on the fences around my hot tub and outside my desk window.
In the extravagantly fragrant season of oranges blossoming, we are plunged into war
Mid-March brings the intoxication of a valley full of orange trees burst into early bloom. Their extraordinary, overwhelming luscious fragrance, as always, feels bacchanalian, ecstatic and totally transporting!
Spring exuberantly emerges while I feel still very folded inward, germinating;
I walk the trails these late afternoons, through the coming of twilight and into the star-lighted darkness. While I wander, the last of the day-bird song quiets and owl calls begin.
Pruning back the garden for "winter," finally completing preparation of the new garden patch (started in September)
As so much of the country struggles with snow, ice and freezing temperatures, this little peaceful valley begins it annual amble into spring.
The yearly rituals of going through all of my things, letting go of what no longer serves me;
As always, I’ve spent the past few weeks doing my year end rituals, processes and chores. Around the Solstice I began my annual cycle of going through everything I own: clothes, files, papers, collections of art materials, all the “things” that gather on my altars and in my cupboards through the year.
With an enormous hunger for rest and stillness —always a signal that something big, if as yet unknowable, is shifting deep within me —
The full-grown oranges in the orchard have begun their yearly turning from green to the gold that comes before they actually start becoming orange.