cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I interviewed for my graduate program without planning to. You see, I was on a mission. Ever since watching a documentary on sex slavery in India that turned my world upside down, I had been meeting with a few counseling graduate students at my husband’s school. We combed through magazine ads and randomly drove down…
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When life tosses you an unexpected moment, you have a few options. Examine your possibilities, jump ship, or quickly come up with a plan and say yes without dwelling on the potential risks. I tend to live my life aligned with the last one. My good friend Alyssa and I had talked about getting away…
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For the month of June the women of Red Tent Living will be considering the theme, “Embrace The Detour”. We invite you to join us by reading the essays and poems offered from our writers, and also by gathering some women in your circle to share your own stories.
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In honor of the tenth anniversary of Red Tent Living, we are featuring a monthly legacy post written by one of our regular contributors from the past decade. Ellen Oelsen is one of our original writers and served on our lead team for years. Her generous and nurturing presence helped shape and cultivate all aspects…
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One night, sitting in front of the family television, for the first time in my life, I sobbed at the end of a touching movie. The year was 1966, and the film Born Free aired in homes across America. The movie, based on a true story, tells of a lioness named Elsa, an orphaned lion…
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I found them gathered on the back deck. PJ pants, hoodies, and hot cups of coffee in hand, my four daughters were circled up and telling stories to one another. The seventeen years that separates them is starting to feel less difficult to close, especially today as the topic at hand is their bodies. The…
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When I bought a hanging pot of pansies last October, it was to replace a broken bird feeder that squirrels kept raiding. We moved the bird feeder to a more rodent-proof spot but were left with an empty porch hook—a spot for hanging flowers, I decided. The pansies were dark purple and glorious. Their pot…
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I can hear her. On the nights The wind screams through the trees And the waves crash In rhythmic chaos On the shore. When night is darkest And bejeweled skies Tell no secrets.
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As I sit here, sipping my morning coffee and gazing out the window at my two teenage sons, I can’t help but daydream about the days when they’ll be off to college and my husband and I will be empty nesters. I love my kids more than anything in this world. They’re the light of…
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Me: Okay, so what if I gave you the chance to speak to take up space and what if I just listened? To your experience To your side of the story? Would you be honest with me? Would you want to speak? Essentially, I am asking: Do you feel safe with me?
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