Mj Pettengill

Do we cheer for Our Mother or cry for humanity?

Throughout time, in many dire settings, I have learned that as divided as they appeared to be, people were often bound by their afflictions.

Today, many are intrigued, longing for more information surrounding the history of mass burial grounds in New York City, across the country

No star is lost. It is we who have gone astray. We are finding our way home.

I no longer rely on princes, and frogs have more potential than what we learned in myths. They earned my respect in a much different manner.

I followed the sparkling thread to that alluring place, showing me that the Garden of Eden is here, or it is there.

I was drawn to the giant pines—the elder council—that always beckon me.

It is time to reawaken all that is imaginable and buried deep in the bones of the land.

I wouldn’t have imagined that along with other volunteers at the food pantry, I would be filling out an order for my daughter.

I returned to my rocking chair and sat on the back deck in my flannel nightgown until I felt like it.

Earlier, I would have been captivated by the beauty of the tall fir trees on the shores, or the lighthouse and small cottages...

I send my love to children all over the world. I send my love to the mothers who dream of calling them home.

Timing is everything. Hold onto that torch—your flickering light that is growing by the hour—and let it be your guide.

The best thing we can do is to calmly approach this event as a global time-out, to retreat into our cave, the proverbial womb.

To me, especially after writing them into my life, crows are reassuring, wise, and a good omen.

"You must rely on your instincts and be okay with things getting messy. After all, it’s not about how it looks on the outside..."

We must rethink this way of being so that we may recover wholeness and well-being in our boys turned men.

As maidens, we encountered enchanted places carpeted with a thick layer of vibrant moss—the sphere of death and rebirth.

Those who know me have often heard me say or write, “Trees are my people.” I am not joking.

Poverty is not limited to one’s socioeconomic status; it is often a predicament of the soul as well. —MjP