years ago, an acquaintance told me of having to bring sand in to a job he was doing in the middle east. not that there wasn’t sand there, of course, but because the on-site sand wouldn’t do what he needed done. you see, each individual grain of imported sand had rough, sharp, pointy edges as compared to the grains of sand there that had lost their edges as winds repeatedly blew them against each other. he needed grains of sand with edges sharp enough, defined enough to peel back the layers of accumulated paint he was removing.

i think of that several times today as we settle into a routine, a rhythm. as we find a way to be together as a lineage of women without losing our individual selves and falling back into being a creation that pleases. eventually we’ll delight in the discovery of individual and shared differences, desires, and dreams, but the first few days can be a bit on the scratchy side as the edges come in contact.