Thanksgiving, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Thanksgiving, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

I watched my husband play the Incredible Hulk in a psycho-drama workshop we did together many years ago.  He startled me with his “acting” talent and ability, transforming from the kindhearted, tender man I knew him to be, when he appeared on set painted green and angry.  Freedom and power exuded from every cell of his being.  I felt joyful. 

I wanted to feel THAT! 

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Spiritual Significance, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Spiritual Significance, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

My husband and I were talking about the meaning and the journey of moving from external success to the internal, personal experience of significance. This is a very personal, internalized journey, individualized for each person and often requires a guide.

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Forgiveness, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Forgiveness, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

“Forgiveness is nothing less than the way we heal the world".

   -- Desmond Tutu, The Book of Forgiveness 

I was a terrible oldest sister.
 
In our dysfunctional family filled with addiction and anger, yet held together in intense love and loyalty, I raged and cried and felt isolated.

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Friends in High Places (a.k.a. Angels), by guest blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

Man’s a foolish creature, always at war.
Surrounded by his angels, that he chooses to ignore.
~ Nathan Bell –  “Dust”


The lyrics above are of a song I recently discovered thanks to Apple Music’s “you may also like.” That feature is an angel itself. I’d probably still be listening to MC Hammer or Color Me Badd if it weren’t for modern day technology. Or Paula Abdul. 

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Truth Tellers, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Truth Tellers, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

I have been watching a special “comedy” routine by Hannah Gadsby. She is a wonderfully strong person who is intelligent, funny, well educated, and successful. She taught me lots about feeling connected in a way we all long for, beyond gender and power.
 

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She's Not Mine, by guest blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

It’s 4:30 in the morning. Actually it’s 4:33, but who’s counting?

Obviously, I am.

I’d love to be able to tell you that I’m up because I’m committed to my yoga, or that I just finished my hour-long meditation practice, but if you’ve read this post here, or if you have known me for more than a week, you know that anything that requires “practice” is not going to happen.

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My Stories, Myself, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

My Stories, Myself, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Driving into Arches National Park in Utah, I have this joyous feeling: I have never been so happy in my life! I am with my beloved husband and two glorious grandsons. It is a precious time.

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Why Their's and Not Mine?, by guest blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

We woke up this morning to a large red ring around my daughter’s belly button. Thankfully this episode was on a regular weekday instead of a Sunday. It was like God listened when I prayed for some weekend medical relief, or rather wrote all about it here. He must of forgotten, however, that we were just at the doctor yesterday for her 7 year check-up. 

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