I have these distant memories from childhood, when the words in my mind would all start to speak at once. A whirlwind of voices ran circles through little Michelle’s mind, and I couldn’t slow them down or quiet them. That same energy — very hard to name yet so easily felt — would find its way into my dreams, not as words but as strange acts: jumping off high points like swing sets or my grandmother’s staircase, accompanied by that dropping feeling in my stomach. Both the voic

The earliest known depictions of the divine are overwhelmingly feminine. The first sacred symbols we have, etched in stone, shaped in...

Episode Six with Pedro Abreu After a summer break, The Confession Book  returns with an episode close to my heart. This week I sat down...

Tell me what you eat, and I shall tell you who you are. These words from French philosopher and gastronomer Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin...

As I type, I'm nearing the end of my summer reading with The Familiar  by Leigh Bardugo. For most of my adult life, much like many others...

What if I told you that within the depths of your being is a personalized blueprint, a roadmap custom-made for you, offering insights to...

The beginning of the year marks the gradual transition into midwinter, where our inner and outer lives often echo one another in a...

Distraction is a strategy in service of the work. Sometimes disengaging is the best way to engage. Rick Rubin, The Creative Act Hello...

I’ve been engaged in a month-long game of "would I, wouldn't I?" when it came to sharing a December newsletter. Like many of you, I've...

Earlier this year, I made a commitment to write to my heart’s desire, allowing the joy and pleasure of creation to flow through me....