the sacred ordinary

in thailand, spirituality is not just a part of life -- spirituality is life

May 11, 2026

May we see the sacred in the ordinary,

Below, you will find this week’s Sunday Somethings. This is where I share my recommendations, insights, and favorites for the week. Have something you’d like to share, too? I’d love to hear from you in the comments and in the community chat!

In honor of Mother’s Day, I want to share a poem that means a lot to me. Carol Lynn Pearson was my door into studying about the divine feminine. The line from this poem below “I am here. I am female. I am divine.” comes to be sometimes when I need it. So grateful for her beautiful poetry and the gentle way Pearson talks about complicated, hard things.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Message from Mother
by Carol Lynn Pearson, from her book Finding Mother God: Poems to Heal the World

For all those little gifts you gave to
the mythologists and archaeologists
to give to me
I thank you, Mother.

For that precious big-bellied figurine pressed
by Paleolithic hands and the magical naked
outline of you on the walls of caves
I thank you.

I thought I was a Motherless child
in an always Motherless house
and then your little surprises began to come
as did my tears, my grateful tears
for there was your soft and ancient voice:

“I am here. I am female. I am divine.”

Thank you for the word “mother”
spoken centuries before the word “father”
for blood and baby do not lie
but testify that Mother was the First Thing

the power that carried and birthed the universe
and all in it, the sea, the earth, the animals
the upright ones, the men and women who lived
in peace within Her safe cycle and gathered
food to the easy sound of wind and rain:

“I am here. I am female. I am divine.”

I thank you, Mother, for brooding over your people
when the dark times came, when the invaders came
the Indo-Europeans from the north
and the Semites from the desert, turning the birthing
upside down so Athena was born of the forehead
of Zeus and Eve was born of the rib of Adam.

Their gods were male
and their swords were bronze
and they named you Abomination
and butchered and buried you without knowing
they were planting you, for you are the transformer
who turns a seed into a tree, the Tree of Life
who is sturdy and many and grew in all places
the goddess of many names that I read now
on pages made from the tree that speak for the tree:

“I am here. I am female. I am divine.”

Athena—Ceres—Cerridwen—Demeter—Diana—Hathor—Inanna—Isis—Kali—Maat—Venus—
hundreds more—shining black or ivory or red
and each a name that points to Mother.

The past does what the past is and it is gone.
Men are still warriors, but not all,
for many understand
that our very being turns now on our turning to our
Mother, who is ready to correct our view of heaven so that
God Herself and God Himself, who were always One
can join on earth to bless the confused billions.

The next step is ours, daughters of our Mother
and did we ever think She would not uphold us
in our essential mission?

We thank you, Mother, as now we rise
the women with microphones in the halls of government
the halls of justice, of media, of religion
the women penning books and scribbling poems
the women helping women buy a goat or a sewing machine
the women marching with signs and songs.

There is power in our words and our words are these:
“We are here. We are female. We are divine.”