
These Old Stories
One of the beautiful byproducts of women gathering to express themselves creatively is that we share and process stories together. Our nervous systems sync up as we tell our stories. And most remarkably, those voices in our heads, when exposed to daylight, get disarmed. We come to realize how common and actually banal they are, and we let them go.


“My Name Is Jennifer and I am an…”
I am not sure why I am so sensitive about being put in boxes. Here I discuss my labels and wonder what I should label the offerings at the Elder Flower. Are we doing Yoga for Recovery?


